by Cat Johnson
She turned toward the counter and spotted the platter as Darci opened the oven. “Smells good, whatever you’re cooking.”
Two more big men arrived. Ali recognized Zane and Thom from the Fourth of July party. Since she hadn’t seen them around since, she assumed they too were newly returned from the war zone.
After a quick hello to her and Darci, during which Ali could have sworn Darci hiked her boobs a little higher for Zane’s benefit, the guys disappeared out onto the deck with Rick and Jon.
The bell rang one more time and Darci moved toward the door. “Brody. Chris. Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year to you too.” Chris handed Darci a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. “For the lady of the house.”
“Aw, thank you. That’s so sweet.”
“They’re from my brother too. He helped me pick them out.” Grinning, Chris hooked a thumb at his brother.
Brody rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I shopped all day.”
Darci laughed. “I’m just happy you’re back and safe, Brody.”
“Thanks.” Brody glanced around. “Where’s everybody else at?”
It was a valid question since Ali could see through the front window that the driveway and the curb in front of the house had filled up with vehicles, but by the looks of the house, there were only she and Darci there.
“Out on the back deck. Go on out, if you want. But tell them the hors d’oeuvres are ready and they’re getting cold.”
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.” Chris saluted Darci with a grin. He and Brody headed the way Zane and Thom had disappeared, and Ali started to think the party was going to be outside.
She watched them go and frowned. “Aren’t they cold out there?”
Darci glanced at the glass door and shrugged. “They’ll be in eventually. Probably catching Rick up on war stories.”
“Stories they don’t want us to hear.”
“Apparently not.” Darci adjusted the temperature on the oven, looking unconcerned about the little posse on the deck.
Ali, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to let the topic go. “But they can tell Rick and Chris, who are both civilians now?”
“I’m sure they’re not spilling any state secrets or anything. It’s probably some stupid stuff we wouldn’t be interested in anyway.”
“Hmm, I guess so.” Stupid stories or not, as Ali transferred the hot mini quiches from the baking tray to the platter she was feeling left out.
Frustrated—in so many ways—she popped one of the quiches into her mouth. The diet started tomorrow, not tonight.
CHAPTER 9
“No. You’re kidding, right?” Rick shook his head as he glanced around the men circling him on the back deck, the cooler full of beer and bags of ice conveniently at their feet. “I don’t believe it.”
“Swear to God, dude.” Zane held his hand up like he was taking an oath.
Jon nodded. “Yup. It’s no lie. We’re supposed to stand outside the door, announce who we are and ask them to put down their weapons and come out with their hands behind their heads.”
“Wait. So are you supposed to be saying this in Pashto or English?” Rick asked.
“Pfft. Both.” Brody let out a snort. “The brass wanna make sure they understand.”
“As if we’re not giving them enough warning.” Thom let out a short laugh. “By the time we tell them in both English and our half-assed Pashto translation, we’ll give them plenty of time to get ready to kill us.”
“You know, because why shouldn’t we give the fighters inside time to mow us down through the door?” Zane shook his head and took a deep pull on his bottle of beer.
“So what are you doing? You’re not really following this shit order, are you?”
Zane screwed up his face at Rick’s question. “Fuck, no.”
Chris smiled. “Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.”
Brody blew out a loud breath. “Ain’t no asking for forgiveness or anything else from the grave.”
“Now guys. You know we’re following orders. We’ve just modified it a bit.” And Jon felt perfectly fine with that.
“Yup.” Zane nodded. “Now after we blow the door, we shout something close enough to what we’re supposed to say as we’re going in.”
Chris grinned. “That way y’all can swear that you said it.”
“Damn right. I’ll swear on my momma’s grave if I have to.” Brody shrugged. “I mean, why not? It ain’t a lie.”
“Hey, it’s printed right on the SEAL website for all to see. Demand discipline, expect innovation. We’re just innovating.” Grinning, Thom shrugged.
Rick shook his head. “Jesus, things have changed.”
Chris let out a burst of air. “You ain’t hardly kidding.”
“Feeling a little better about getting out now?” Jon asked Rick.
“Yeah. Surprisingly. After hearing this shit I am.”
“The good idea fairy is only half of it, man.” Thom shook his head. “They’re so afraid to make any decisions or take any action that we spend half of our time now suited up on standby, waiting for orders.”
Zane nodded. “Seriously. They had us ready and on standby for one mission for five damn days.”
Rick let out a slow whistle. “Damn.”
Chris shook his head. “Makes a man grateful to be a civilian again. And speaking of the advantages of being a civilian, your sister said there’s hot food inside. I don’t know about y’all but I’m fixin’ to get me some.”
“Yeah. We should go on in.” Rick glanced around the group. “I’ve kept you out here talking when there’s scotch waiting inside.”
“The scotch is inside and we’re out here?” Chris leveled a gaze at Rick. “Now that right there is a sin.”
Jon followed the group inside. Food and scotch sounded pretty damn good. He cleared the sliding glass door and spotted Ali right away. She shot him a glance before turning to do something on the counter, which gave him a nice view of her curves. He remembered the feel of those hips beneath his hands and smiled, appreciating the benefits of being home more and more.
As the other guys moved toward the food, Rick paused next to Jon. “So I didn’t get to ask you before the other guys came outside, but have you and Ali talked?”
“Sure. We had a lovely conversation when I arrived.”
Rick shook his head. “You know what I meant. Did you talk while you were over there?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, we didn’t. I told you we agreed before I left that we wouldn’t keep in touch. You know that’s an impossible situation.”
“You’re back now.”
“I am.” Jon had a feeling he knew the reason for Rick stating the obvious.
“So are you gonna start things up again?”
Jon swiveled his head to gawk at Rick. “When exactly did you become so interested in my personal life?”
“When I turned in my separation package and was no longer involved in your military life. Wait and see. It’ll happen to you too, when you retire. If you don’t get shot while announcing yourself to the bad guys first.”
“Real nice. Thanks.” Jon couldn’t help but laugh.
The razzing was all in good fun. You couldn’t go through the kind of shit he had with these guys and not be as close as blood brothers. Even so, he wasn’t quite ready to admit to Rick that seeing Ali again had put ideas into his head. Imaginings that might possibly become reality if she were willing.
Jon watched her in the kitchen with Darci, both girls laughing at something Chris had said.
Would she be willing? He had to wonder. He couldn’t offer her anything more than he had before. A night of fun. Maybe a couple of nights if he saw she was okay with keeping things casual. Very casual, because there was no place in his life right now for anything more than that.
Rick cracking open the bottle of scotch caught Jon’s attention. He guessed it was time to drink, and not just the beer in his hand.
> As Rick splashed a long shot into each short glass, Jon eyed the sofa and the reclining chair in the room. “I hope you’re planning on a few overnight guests.”
Chris came around the island and grabbed a glass. “What are y’all lightweights now?”
“No, but we haven’t had anything stronger than the milk that turned sour in the chow hall for six months,” Jon reminded him.
“And it’s New Year’s Eve. Every cop on the force is patrolling for drunk drivers,” Thom added.
“Relax. Everyone is welcome to stay the night. There’s plenty of room. There’s a queen bed in my room and lot’s of floor space and I’ve got a couple of blowup air mattresses in the garage if we need them.”
Jon snorted, thinking they’d slept some places so shitty they’d make sleeping on Rick’s living room carpet seem like deluxe accommodations at the Ritz.
“I’ll just crash with Darci in her room if there’s a shortage of space.” Chris winked at Darci.
Smiling, she shook her head. “Always the joker.”
Jon raised a brow, wondering how much of it was actually a joke on Chris’s part. But just as how his night with Ali was none of Rick’s business, this was none of his.
Thom held up his glass and eyed the level of the amber liquid. “Staying the night here sounds damn good to me. Besides not wanting to drive after I drink this, I’m homeless until the weekend anyway. That’s when the barracks manager says a room will be available.”
“You’re not alone, buddy. There was no room at the inn for me either. You must’ve got on the list before me. They told me it’d be mid-January before I got a room.” Zane sniffed at the glass Rick had handed him, not looking all that concerned he was without accommodations for the next two weeks.
Jon shook his head at the ongoing housing debacle on base. “You know you can all crash at my place for as long as you need to.”
“I know and thanks.” Zane tipped his head. “I’ll likely just rent one of those rooms by the night until my turn comes up. Unless of course, some sweet young thing asks me to crash with her for a while.”
“Pfft.” Thom snorted. “I don’t have Zane’s obvious excess of cash since all my money goes to the ex-wife and I don’t want anything to do with any sweet young things—also thanks to my ex-wife—so I’d be happy to take you up on your generous offer, Jon. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime.”
“Okay, enough women and housing woes. You’ll all stay the night tonight and I’ll cook us breakfast in the morning. But now, it’s time for the toast.” Rick had finished passing out the glasses and stood with his raised.
Champagne glasses in their hands, Ali and Darci stood way off to the side as observers rather than participants in what had become the team’s tradition a few years back.
Rick glanced around the group and when every man had his glass held aloft, he said, “To absent friends and fallen brothers.”
“Absent friends and fallen brothers.” Jon joined the chorus as they echoed the words, then he pressed the glass to his lips. He felt the burn all the way down his throat to his belly. He slammed the empty glass on the counter and blew out a breath. “Phew. Where’s that food you promised? Another shot like that and I’ll be shitty.”
“Here you go.” Ali moved a platter from the counter to the island.
One glance at the bite-sized foods made Jon wonder. Mini anything wasn’t going to satisfy a hoard of hungry SEALs for long, but Darci had promised lasagna and he knew from all Rick’s talk that she made a killer one. It had been a long time since he’d had home cooking. Jon’s mouth started to water just at the thought.
“Try the mini quiches.” Ali gestured toward the tray. “They’re really good.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He grabbed the tiny pastry and popped it into his mouth, wondering if it would be rude to take like six more to hold him over.
“You’re welcome.” Ali sent him a smile so seductive that Jon began to salivate for a completely different reason than the food.
He was sex-deprived and riding a home-from-deployment high, but Ali could be a dangerous option to relieve his ache. He thought about her far too much considering it was supposed to have been a fling.
Rick poured another round of drinks and someone thrust one into Jon’s hand. At this rate he wouldn’t have to worry about making the bad decision to give in to the temptation of a repeat with Ali. He’d be passed out in front of the television in Rick’s easy chair by midnight.
Jon glanced at Ali and saw the tip of her pretty pink tongue shoot out to catch the melted cheese that ran out of whatever she’d just bit into. As he realized he was standing in the middle of the party with a semi hard-on, he had to think that him being passed out cold might be a good thing.
CHAPTER 10
Darci frowned at Ali’s glass. “That’s not champagne.”
She laughed at the accusatory tone. “No, it’s seltzer. I stopped drinking so I can drive home.”
“But it’s New Year’s Eve.”
“And the cops will be crawling all over the place.”
“So stay here.”
Ali laughed at that. “It looks like you’re going to have a house full already.”
And Ali might have been happy to be one of those overnight guests given that Jon would apparently be one also after how much scotch he’d consumed. But he had yet to speak another word to her since thanking her for passing the tray of quiche.
Now, it was minutes to midnight. Ali knew that if he’d wanted to spend the night with her, he’d already be over here sealing the deal . . . no Navy SEAL pun intended. As it was, Jon wasn’t hovering nearby in preparation for a kiss at midnight.
Ali didn’t need a sledgehammer to the head to tell her it wasn’t happening tonight, if ever. She sure as hell wasn’t going to act like some high school loser hoping the quarterback noticed her hanging around his locker.
“So you’re going to leave me here?” Darci frowned deeper and shook her head. “The only female in the middle of all these guys?”
“We really don’t have a lot of female friends, do we? We should probably work on that.” Even the two people from Rick’s work who’d shown up were men.
Darci waved that concern away. “Just stay here.”
“Why don’t you come home with me? That way the guys will have another bed.” She glanced around at the group of large men. Rick would need the extra space to accommodate them all. Then again, maybe Darci wanted to stay here with at least one of them. “Unless you wanted to stick around here. Spend more time with the guys. You didn’t get to talk to Zane much tonight.”
Ali took a stab at the one guy she sensed her friend had a thing for. Darci screwed up her face at the mention of his name. “No. Do you know what Zane’s been doing the whole party?”
“Besides drinking and eating and hanging out with his friends? No, I don’t.”
“He’s been texting every girl in his phone trying to line up a booty call for tonight.” Anger smoldered in Darci’s eyes.
For her to be that pissed about Zane texting other women meant Ali had most likely hit the nail on the head. Darci was interested.
“Then come home with me. We’ll sleep late. Tomorrow, I’ll make us coffee and cinnamon rolls and we can sit around and watch home decorating shows or whatever. We can put what we want on the television with no men to bitch about it.” Ali knew that the single television and control of the remote was a hot issue in this household since Rick had moved in.
Darci thought for a second. “All right. That actually sounds like a perfect morning. And it will leave Rick to tend to his friends and their hangovers all by himself. If I stay I know I’ll end up cleaning the God awful mess he’ll make in the kitchen when he cooks breakfast for them all.”
“Good. It’s a deal.” Ali raised her glass to Darci’s. “To our girls’ day tomorrow.”
“To girls’ day.” Darci clinked and downed the rest of her champagne. “I need a refill before midnight.”
Jon’s stare caught hers. She held it for longer than was proper for accidental eye contact. Feeling her cheeks heat, she yanked her gaze away.
“Holy shit. Look at the time. It’s almost midnight.” Rick’s announcement pulled Ali out of wallowing in her embarrassment.
She glanced at the screen on the muted television and saw the countdown had begun. The numbers on the screen said it was thirty seconds to midnight.
“I’m ready to toast to the end of this shitty year.” Thom raised his glass.
“Your divorce. My knee surgery. I’m right there with you, man. It was a shit year.” Rick held up his own short glass of liquor and Ali realized all the guys had abandoned drinking beer and settled on just the hard stuff.
“We’re all on the right side of the dirt, aren’t we?” Chris asked. He raised his glass to Thom and then to Rick. “Divorce and knee surgery aside, we’re all standing here together, safe and whole. If this was a shit year, I hope next year is just as shitty.”
“Amen to that.” Darci’s soft declaration came from closer to Ali than she’d expected.
Unexpectedly choked up at the words and the meaning behind them, Ali turned and clinked her glass to Darci’s. “Amen.”
The giant numbers had continued flashing on the television during Chris’s speech until the guests echoed the countdown aloud.
“. . . three, two, one.” The room resonated with a deep, loud, “Happy New Year” that could only be produced by a team of men used to working together. She laughed when she got a look at the coordinated toast made by the circle of guys, shoulder to shoulder, glasses raised high as they all met in the middle.
Then the moment passed. The circle broke and there was back slapping and hand shakes for everyone.
Chris broke off from the revelry and made a beeline for Darci.
“I’m not getting screwed out of a New Year’s kiss.” He tipped his head toward the guys. “They’re all too ugly, so it’s gotta be you, darlin’.”