by Cat Johnson
Alpha, Bravo, Charlie—all good letters. And good names. But Romeo left the field wide open for more jokes about him being a heartbreaker.
“That’s Chief Petty Officer Heartbreaker to you, Joker,” Liam added, obviously determined to run out his remaining time before leaving the Navy by torturing Brian.
Cole and Liam both chuckled as Brian’s mood darkened.
“It seems to me you should all be making some phone calls. The big V is coming up and it looks like we might actually be stateside for it this year,” Benjamin “Pops” Popovich said.
Brian frowned. “What the hell is the big V?”
Vagina? Venereal disease?
The first he’d be happy to spend some time up close and personal with after too long of a hiatus. As for the other? He’d had no experience with that to date and he’d like to keep it that way.
What else started with V? He racked his brain and came up empty.
Bear, his team leader, laughed at his frown. “Valentine’s Day. It’s almost here.”
“Shit. Is it really?” Brian asked.
Christ, he hated Valentine’s Day. But how could it be here already? He picked up his phone from where it rested on the bar and glanced at the date on the cell’s display.
February eleventh. Bear was correct. That most dreaded of all holidays was just days away.
Brian mumbled a cuss and flipped his cell face down on the bar again, as if hiding the cold hard truth delivered by the display would change things.
How the hell had it gotten to be February? Wasn’t it just Christmas?
The team had spent Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve and Day—pretty much all the big holidays—in Africa.
That had been real fun. Not.
Just before Christmas, Boko Haram had kidnapped three hundred schoolboys, most likely with the intent of making them armed pawns for the militant group. Two units from SEAL Team Seven, Romeo being one of them, had put a kink in their plans and those boys were all home safely now.
That rescue had been after the massacre of a hundred-and-ten rice farmers in Borno had kicked off their holiday season.
Of course, the team had been sent there too. No one could bring those people back to life, but they could sure as hell teach the organizers of that horrific attack a lesson.
The team had gotten in and out so fast, no one had even known they’d been there. Well, no one except for the targets, that was. But they weren’t talking.
That op had gone by in a blink of an eye. But when the deployment had come to an end, cooling their heels waiting for the transport home after months at the camp on the Horn of Africa had seemed to take forever.
Days. Months. Years. All increments of measurement took on a surreal feel as time in the teams somehow managed to both drag and fly by simultaneously.
Take this conversation about his love life, for example. They were nearing the eternity mark on this topic alone as Gage drawled out, “What’s this? Heartbreaker’s not a fan of Valentine’s Day? How can that be?”
What Brian was not a fan of, was the nickname he’d been saddled with. His teammates seemed to think he deserved it. Brian disagreed.
So he liked to play the field? So what? He never got serious with any one woman so it wasn’t like he was a cheater.
He wouldn’t even consider himself a player. He never misled the women he was with that he was looking for anything serious.
Sure, Brian believed in monogamy—for other people. Believed that once you committed to another person, you stuck with them. Forever.
Forever just wasn’t for him. Commitment wasn’t for him. At least not right now. So he kept things casual. That way they could all have a lot of fun and no one got hurt.
“You didn’t know? Oh, man. Heartbreaker freaking hates Valentine’s Day,” Liam told Gage.
Liam was right about one thing. Brian’s hatred of Valentine’s Day was right up there with his loathing of the name Heartbreaker. But how did Liam know that?
He shot a sideways glance at Liam and wondered how the hell he was so well-versed about his hatred of all things Valentine related.
His aversion to Valentine’s Day wasn’t something Brian talked about—or even usually thought much about, except for during a couple of weeks in February.
Hell, often the team was in some foreign country on an op for the dreaded holiday.
He enjoyed those Valentine’s Days the most. When in the middle of a sausage fest on some outpost the fake holiday he was sure the greeting card companies and floral industry had invented didn’t matter. Not at all.
Then, it was just another day on the calendar. As it should be. The thought was making Brian long for the deployment that had just come to an end.
But apparently he wasn’t so good at hiding his aversion to the holiday, if Liam had guessed his feelings.
That didn’t mean Brian couldn’t try denying it now. “Pfft. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shook his head and then focused on staring at the level of beer in his mug.
“Sure you don’t.” Liam laughed.
“What do you have against Valentine’s Day?” Pops frowned, looking seriously interested in this ridiculous conversation.
“What do I have against Valentine’s Day?” Brian’s eyes widened in shock.
What kind of a question was that?
He barely recognized the group of battle-hardened operators with him.
Brian didn’t know how they’d gotten to this point, sitting around talking about hearts and flowers instead of guns and bullets, but as long as they were here, he felt it was his responsibility to set the guys straight about the worst of all the holidays.
How could anybody like the made-up, commercialized day, when roses quadrupled in price and normal things like having dinner took on a significance of enormous proportions?
But none of that was the real reason why Brian truly hated the holiday.
It was what the day did to the females of the species that had him wishing for an op to whisk him out of the country on February fourteenth.
“It’s because it makes women fucking nuts, that’s why,” he told Pops.
“Gotta agree with him there.” Ray offered a rare opinion from behind the bar as he walked past on his way to the beer taps.
“See. Ray knows.” Brian tipped his head toward the old man.
Being raised by a single mom, Brian had seen the crazy himself.
The years she had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, she’d get excited, dancing around the house, expecting it to be some hugely romantic day. A day that might change her life . . . and his.
Of course the day, and her date, inevitably fell short, which left her disappointed and usually led to the end of the relationship altogether.
The years she didn’t have a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day were just as bad. Maybe worse. Then, depression set in.
For a week before and a week after the holiday, she’d drag around the house like her life was over. A trail of empty wine bottles left in her wake.
It had been more than a boy should have to handle on his own, but handle it Brian did. At least until he left for the Navy.
“So no plans then, Heartbreaker?” Joker asked, no doubt being a smart ass. Knowing the question would piss him off.
“Yeah, I got plans. Hey, Ray! You working on Valentine’s Day?” Brian called to him.
“I work every day,” the old man grumbled.
“Then that’s where I’ll be. Right here, on this bar stool. With Ray.” Brian grinned, pleased with the plan.
“Not sure you’re Ray’s type, Heartbreaker.” Zig laughed.
That was exactly the point. No hope of romantic entanglements here. Perfect.
Yeah, Brian hadn’t gotten laid in way too long. Yes, he’d love to remedy that situation and soon.
And sure, maybe on any other day he’d walk over and strike up a conversation with the dark-haired beauty who’d been nursing a draft beer while talking on her cell phone at t
he other end of the bar. But not today. Not three days before the day. V-Day.
The woman he’d been deciding against approaching glanced up and their gazes met briefly. His resolve almost weakened but his determination held strong.
The last thing Brian wanted was a relationship. Steering clear of all women until after February fourteenth had passed was the best way he knew to stay out of one.
After that . . . all bets were off.
“Well, boys. That’s it for me.” Liam stood and threw cash on the bar.
Brian’s attention was yanked off the brunette forbidden fruit and back to his teammates. “What? It’s early.”
“You might not have plans, but I do.” Liam slapped Brian on the back. “I got a ton of shit to handle.”
“Actually, I’m out of here too,” Zig said, tossing a few bills on the bar.
Bear stood, as well. “Me too.”
Brian watched as all of his buddies abandoned him, one by one.
Quitters. All of them.
He sighed. “Fine. See you guys later.”
Alone, he stared into his beer and evaluated the level of amber liquid in the mug before downing a large swallow. He’d finish this one, settle his bill and then he might as well head out too.
Drinking alone was no fun. Even with the hot chick at the end of the bar as scenery. He glanced her way now and saw she’d been joined by some guy.
That figures. A woman like that wouldn’t be alone in a place like this for long.
He reminded himself women, all women, even the hot ones, were off limits until after V-Day.
Shame. But it had to be done. His self-preservation depended on it.
THREE
Alicia drew back as the guy came to stand right in front of her, too close for comfort. Way too close for a stranger.
“Alicia.” He leaned in, invaded her personal space, and wrapped his arms around her.
So, not a stranger then. But still, no one who should be freaking hugging her. She narrowed her eyes and pulled back, out of his grasp. “Do I know you?”
“Yeah, sure you do. Remember? We danced at Jen and Jason’s wedding?”
Now that she thought about it, she remembered dancing with a few of her female cousins and this guy insinuating himself in the middle of their group.
“Come on. You know you remember me. I’m Andrew. You don’t have to pretend and play shy.”
The diagnosis of narcissist flew unbidden into her brain as Alicia cocked up a brow. “I’m not playing, Andrew. And yes, I do remember you. Now. In fact, we actually first met at my sister’s engagement party. You were there with a date. I believe she was one of the secretaries from the office where you work with Jason.”
The office which wasn’t near enough to Coronado that this guy just showing up at the same time she was here could be a coincidence.
Had her sister seriously sent him to McP’s knowing she’d be here?
“So what are you doing here?” she asked.
If Jen had done this, if Andrew was Jen’s latest attempt at a fix-up, Alicia was going to lose her mind. And then her temper.
From what she remembered of this man, he was an obnoxious, self-centered, know-it-all who’d been all over his date at the engagement party—a subordinate from his job, which made it even worse.
Jason’s dog didn’t even like this guy and Chester usually loved everyone.
Alicia trusted animal instincts. Given a choice between her sister’s questionable taste and Chester’s, she was siding with the dog on this one.
“So, funny thing,” he began, still standing too close. “I’d actually just asked Jason recently if you were dating anyone. Then Jen calls the office and tells me you were here and suggested we meet up.”
“Here you go. One order of wings.” The waitress, who had the worst timing ever, planted a platter in front of Alicia along with a napkin and utensils. The server glanced at Andrew and asked, “Should I bring over another setup?”
“No,” Alicia said, a bit too fast while silently cursing herself that she didn’t request the order be wrapped to go in time. Now she was stuck here, with him.
Ignoring Alicia’s answer, Andrew glanced down at the server. Or rather, down at her cleavage. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great, sweetie.”
As he grinned at the waitress, Alicia made a decision.
“You know what? My bad. I meant to order these to go. I’m not staying. I’m so sorry,” she apologized to the server.
“Sure. No problem. I’ll wrap them up.”
“Great. Thanks.”
With a quick glance at Andrew before she grabbed the platter and hustled away, the server looked relieved to have an excuse to leave. Alicia could commiserate.
With the order being wrapped to-go, that was one problem down. Andrew standing close enough she could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath was proof she still had one, big, obnoxious problem left to go.
Alicia angled her body so she’d be able to slide off the barstool and make a break for it as soon as her order was wrapped and then glanced up at the brutish man her sister thought she would like.
“I’m sorry you came all the way over here. But I have to get home.”
“Sounds good.” His wide grin didn’t match the reaction she’d expected.
Wait. Did he think he was coming home with her?
Oh, hell no. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m sorry.” Not really, but she had to seem polite. “I’m not interested in company tonight.”
Or any night.
Thankfully, the server came forward bearing a brown paper bag and the bill. Time to get out of there.
“Thanks. Keep the change.” Alicia handed over a wad of cash for her food and then turned to her unwelcome companion. “Good night, Andrew.”
“What? No. Come on, Lish. The night is young. We can still have a little fun back at your place. Eat some hot wings. Drink some beer. You know. See where things go.”
Lish? The nickname was the least of the things wrong with Andrew’s presumptions. The biggest problem was he really thought she’d be willing to bring him home with her.
Alicia didn’t have to bring him back to her place for him to eat her food and drink her beer to see where things would go. She knew already, and that was straight downhill, faster and further than they’d already gone.
Jen was going to pay for this one. She silently cursed her sister and said, “No, thank you.”
“I know how to show you a good time.” He reached out and ran one finger down her arm.
He knew how to show her a good time? Seriously?
It was only shock that kept her from laughing at his overinflated opinion of his own sexual prowess.
She didn’t believe him nor did she need his help to have a good time. She had toys that could do whatever he could, and no doubt do a better job of it too.
“Andrew, look. Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to take my bag of food and I’m going to go home. Alone.”
“Come on. Let me at least walk you to your car—”
“That’s not necessary. I’m fine walking alone. Really.”
“It’s no problem.”
Alicia was starting to fear she’d never get rid of the blind date from hell. Another diagnosis flew into her therapist’s brain. Controlling. Self-centered. Misogynist.
Andrew was one of those men who didn’t believe a woman when she said no. The kind of man she had in mind when she and Shelly took that self-defense class.
Sometimes the only thing they’d listen to was a knee to the groin.
“I don’t need you to walk me,” she said with more force, hoping she wouldn’t have to employ any of the moves she’d learned.
“Sure, you do—”
“The lady said she wants to be left alone.” The deep, take-no-shit voice came from behind her. And from above her too.
She twisted her neck and glanced up, way up, to see who had spoken.
The sight had her eyes widening. It was the hottie f
rom the other end of the bar. The one who’d caught her ogling him. Damn, was he tall.
She angled her body so she was between the two men. Facing neither one as they flanked her.
“Stay out of it, buddy,” Andrew said, apparently unfazed that the dark-haired stranger had a couple of inches on him. Not to mention a whole bunch of muscles. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see that.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” The reply was as polite as if he were on a job interview.
“The lady’s with me,” Andrew said, still not backing down.
She wasn’t sure if it was hubris or stupidity that kept him there.
“Are you with him?” the tall, dark and handsome stranger asked, his green-rimmed, copper-flecked eyes focused on hers.
He’d surprised her. She wasn’t prepared to finally be included in the conversation. They’d basically been speaking over her head the whole time.
Alicia was very happy to answer the stranger’s question. “No. I’m most definitely not with him.” She shook her head.
Her self-appointed protector leveled a stare on Andrew and waited. It was the heaviest silence she’d ever felt.
Finally, Andrew read the room and took the hint that he wasn’t wanted there.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “You know what? You can tell your sister to lose my number. I’m not interested. You’re both batshit crazy.”
With that, Andrew stomped out of McP’s, leaving Alicia to watch him go.
Heart pounding, she glanced around the room and saw all eyes on them. Now she was a public spectacle.
Looking up at the man who’d come to her rescue, even though she’d never asked him to, nor had she wanted him to, she let out a sigh. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
She could have handled Andrew on her own. And in a less embarrassing manner too. One that wouldn’t have all of McP’s patrons staring.
He laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.” And she certainly wasn’t going to thank him for making a scene with her in the center of it.
“You might not have asked for help, but you needed it.”