by L. A. Witt
After I told him one of my wild tales of being overseas, he laughed and almost choked on his drink.
“And none of you were arrested?” he asked, eyebrows up.
“None. Which was surprising—the Japanese police don’t really have a high tolerance for stupid drunken Americans. Not in towns with bases, anyway.”
“I’ll bet they don’t.” He chuckled, and he didn’t seem to mind that we were brushing up against the subject of me being in the military. “Why do you think they let you go?”
“We had someone in the group who was fluent in Japanese. If you’ve got someone who speaks the language, it can go a long way when you’re dealing with foreign police.”
Diego nodded. “I believe that. As long as a cop speaks Spanish or English, I’m good.”
“Well, you’re doing better than me. If the cop doesn’t speak English, I’m fucked.”
“They didn’t make you take a foreign language in school?”
“Eh, I took French in high school and college, but I’ve never had much need for it, so I’ve forgotten most of it.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that happens. To be honest, my Spanish would probably get rusty if I didn’t talk to my family as often as I do.”
“You talk to them often?”
“As much as I can. Calling Mexico isn’t cheap, so . . .” He waved his hand.
“I can imagine.”
He cleared his throat. “You close to your family?”
I pressed my lips together. “Not as close to my sister as I’d like to be, but . . .” I sighed. “That’s a long story. My parents moved to Florida a few years ago, and I talk to them as often as I can. Visit too. They used to come see me, but it’s hard for them to travel now.”
Diego studied me. “Do they know about . . . uh . . .” He gestured at each of us.
“That I’m bi?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded. “They knew I dated a couple of guys in college. They don’t necessarily like it, and probably thought it was a moot point after I got married, but yes, they know. What about yours?”
“My father never knew.” His expression darkened, but only for a second before he shook himself and met my gaze again. “My mother thinks he would have been all right with it, even if it took him some time to get there, but I guess we’ll never know.”
“How does she feel about it?”
“When I told her the first time, she cried.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “That was . . . hard.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, almost whispering. We held each other’s gazes. The topic of our families felt loaded for some reason. Like ground we didn’t need to be walking on right now.
Before I could change the subject, he said, “So your parents moved to Florida? From where?”
“Phoenix.”
“That explains the Cardinals thing.” He sighed dramatically. “I guess I can let it slide.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah, I was born and raised there, and I’ve been trying to avoid the desert ever since.”
“Don’t like the heat?”
“Not really. And I’m pretty sure the desert was actively trying to kill me.”
Diego laughed. God, I loved the way he laughed. “Trying to kill you? How?”
“Snakes and scorpions, mostly. A rattler bit me when I was ten, but it was the scorpion sting that almost killed me.”
Diego blinked a few times like he was struggling to take in everything I’d just said. “Okay, now you have to tell me both of those stories.”
I chuckled. “Well, the rattler was under my friend’s front porch. We were supposed to tell our parents if we saw a snake so they could call one of the removal specialists, but we were dumb kids and thought teasing it would be more fun.”
Diego pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not serious.”
“I totally am.” I shook my head, laughing at the memory. “I got too close, it got pissed off, and . . .” I gestured at my forearm. “It got me.”
His eyes widened. “It really bit you.”
“Uh-huh. No scar, though. I mean, there were a couple of puncture wounds, but then I wiped out on a bike when I was a teenager, and the road rash took out the scar.”
“I thought rattlesnake bites did more damage than that.”
“They do, but I got lucky—it was a dry bite. Scared me more than anything, which was probably the idea. I still had to go to the hospital, and it hurt like a son of a bitch for a while, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.”
“You did get lucky,” he said. “And the scorpion?”
“That was when I was twelve. My friend—same friend—and I found a bark scorpion. Those are the really dangerous ones, so obviously we were playing with it.”
Diego inclined his head. “I’m seeing a pattern here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. So you were teasing it like you teased the snake, and it stung you?”
“Basically. And I was so afraid of getting in trouble for playing with it, I didn’t want to tell my mom. When I started wheezing and puking a couple of hours later, she took me to the ER.”
“Were you in trouble after that?”
I shuddered as I picked up my drink. “So much trouble.”
He burst out laughing. “Sounds like you deserved it.”
“Hmm, probably.” I arched an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were the perfect kid.”
“Me?” He put a hand to his chest. “I was an angel.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, aside from the time my brother and I took our dad’s car out joyriding.”
“Oh really?” I folded my arms on the edge of the table and leaned closer. “How did that turn out?”
“It went fine until we ran out of gas. Then we were fucked.” He sipped his drink. “This tow truck driver pulled over to see if we were all right, and it turned out to be one of my dad’s friends.” Diego grimaced. “You want trouble? That was trouble.”
I snorted. “So much for a perfect angel, right?”
He shrugged, grinning mischievously. “I didn’t say I was a perfect angel. But at least I wasn’t getting bitten by poisonous things I was teasing.”
“Hey, don’t judge me.”
We both laughed, and just like we had over coffee in my kitchen and at this same café yesterday, we lost ourselves in conversation. It wasn’t until long after we’d eaten and a waitress came up to the table that I realized how long we’d actually been here.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” There was a subtle note of impatience in the question. Some thinly veiled encouragement to not ask for anything else.
I checked my phone. “Holy shit. It’s almost midnight?”
“No way.” Diego looked at his phone too, and his eyes widened. “Oh. It is.”
We apologized profusely for overstaying and tipped her almost forty percent for having occupied a table for so long. She locked the door behind us and flipped the cheery Open sign over to Sorry We’re Closed.
Diego looked back at the sign and grimaced. “Poor lady. She probably wanted to go home an hour ago.”
“I know. We’ll have to keep better track of time if we do this again.”
He met my gaze. “Are we doing this again?”
I moistened my lips. “You tell me.”
“We could. It’s fun, right?”
“Yeah, it is.” Especially the part that usually comes after.
“So, sure.” He used my belt to tug me closer. “And there’s also the game coming up.”
“There is. But do you really want to watch that with me?” I smirked. “Because I will rub it in when the Eagles lose.”
Diego returned the smirk. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me, but he snapped his teeth instead, making me jump. “Haven’t you learned not to tease wild animals?”
“If a rattlesnake and a scorpion didn’t teach me, what makes you think you will?” I couldn’t resist a long kiss. He didn’t
object. As the kiss went on, I held him tighter against me. God, he was addictive. “Shame we stayed here so late.” I held him firmly against me. “I was looking forward to taking you home.”
He smiled, sliding his hands up my chest. “Just means you’ll want me that much more when you do get me into bed.”
“Fuck yeah, I will,” I growled as I moved in for a kiss. His lips were still curved into that smile, but they quickly relaxed against mine, and the conversation seemed like it had happened ages ago. I cupped the back of his neck, and we stood there for the longest time, just letting the kiss be its own thing. Not foreplay. Not a promise of more. Not a tease. Just lips and tongues and two men getting completely lost in a long, sexy moment.
When we broke the kiss, his eyelids were heavy, and his smile was adorable with his slightly swollen lips.
“You know, since I’ve got that off weekend coming up . . .” He actually sounded a little shy as he asked, “Maybe we could do something. Go down to Flatstick and dance at a club where I don’t have to work.”
The thought of him out on a dance floor made my head spin.
I quirked my lips, pretending to give it some thought. “That could be fun.”
He grinned, sliding his hands into my back pockets. “Uh-huh. Dance a bit. Fool around. Not have to worry about coworkers.”
“Mmm, I like that idea. Maybe we could get a room too.”
Instantly, Diego went rigid. He shook his head. “No.”
“What? Why not?”
“I . . .” His cheeks colored. “It’s . . . Payday is still a ways off, you know?”
I waved a hand. “I’ll cover it. I want—”
“No,” he said sharply. “If we’re going to do this, we’re splitting it. I am not mooching off you.”
“Mooching?” I shook my head. “No, no. It’s—”
“We split it.” His tone didn’t offer any room for debate.
“Okay. Okay. I’m fine with that. I just want us to be able to relax that night without worrying about getting all the way back to Anchor Point.”
Diego’s jaw tightened. “That shit can get expensive, you know? And I mean, even this . . .” He gestured at the café and avoided my eyes. “I can’t do it very often. I, uh, really shouldn’t even be doing it this much. Twice in one week.”
I touched his chin and lifted it so he was looking in my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. Or going to dinner. Any of it. I don’t mind staying in.”
His lips tightened, and he sighed. “I do want to go out. And I like the idea of staying in Flatstick, as long as it’s one night. I just . . . don’t want to mooch off you.”
“You’re not.”
“Still.” Diego swallowed. “Let’s just stay someplace cheap, all right? I’ll feel like an ass if it’s something extravagant.”
“We don’t need anything fancy.” I gave his ass a playful squeeze. “Just a place to sleep and fuck.”
That seemed to shake some of the tension out of him, and he grinned as he leaned into me. “I love the sound of that.”
“Me too. So, on your off weekend, Saturday night in Flatstick, then watch the game on Sunday?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Good. And I’m sure we can think of something to do between now and then.”
“Mmm, I think we can.” He kissed me again, and I let it linger because why the hell not? Yeah, when I went to work in five hours, I’d be a bleary-eyed mess, but this evening had been worth whatever penance came my way. And yeah, I’d be chugging down coffee, struggling to stay awake, and my brain would probably be all over the place, but if that was the price for a long, perfect dinner with Diego? Fine.
And in a couple of weeks, I’d have him for a night of dancing and an afternoon of football.
I could not wait.
It was a wonder I could function. I’d met Mark over a week ago and wound up in his bed almost every night after work. Neither of us was getting a lot of sleep, but he hadn’t suggested slowing down and I wasn’t bringing it up either.
It helped that I wasn’t at the bar until two or three every morning. The High-&-Tight closed at eleven on weeknights, so I was usually out of there by midnight. Mark sometimes slept for a few hours after he got home from work so he could stay up late enough to see me. I felt kind of guilty about it—if he was half as tired as I was, getting up at six in the morning must’ve been killing him. Whenever he had to be on the boat early and had to get up at five? Jesus.
Thank God he didn’t mind me sticking around after he’d gone to work. The first few mornings, I’d left with him, but a week into it, he’d murmured, “Just lock the door on your way out,” and he’d been gone. Fine by me.
Today was a Monday morning, and after I’d rolled out of Mark’s bed, showered, and poured myself some coffee in his empty kitchen, I texted Dalton.
You busy today?
Never too busy for you, baby. ;)
I laughed. We’d broken up forever ago but still jokingly flirted. Fortunately, his husband didn’t mind.
I’d never been friends with an ex-boyfriend before, but Dalton? He was something else. Maybe because our relationship had never really gone anywhere, so we’d never really had a chance to piss each other off. He was military. I wanted casual sex, and he wasn’t into it. So I’d told him, anyway. Truth was, I’d started falling for him, and fast, and it had spooked me. I’d said I needed to keep it casual, and he hadn’t been interested. We’d just cooled it and stayed friends. Well, aside from that one hookup last New Year’s Eve, which had been fucking hot. It hadn’t made things weird, thank God, and as of very recently, he was happily married to Chris, who he’d been in love with even before we’d started fooling around.
Today, like a lot of days, I went over to his place to hang out until we both had to go to work. As Dalton pulled a couple of sodas out of the fridge, he said, “So, Chris and I are having a wedding reception at the end of January.”
“What?” I laughed. “Eloping wasn’t good enough after all?”
“Our parents decided it wasn’t good enough.” He groaned. “I mean, we explained why we did it. They get it—if we wanted to be stationed together when we got our new orders, we needed to get married sooner than later. But then we’re probably going overseas, and suddenly they’re freaking out like we need this giant send-off, and somehow that turned into a wedding reception.” He rolled his eyes. “So, our families are flying in, and we’re . . . going through the motions like we aren’t already married.” He paused, brow pinched. “You, uh, want to come? If you don’t, it’s fine, I—”
“Shut up, pendejo.” I squeezed his arm. “Of course I want to come. When and where?”
“Don’t know yet. We’re still figuring everything out. Sometime at the end of January, that’s all I know.”
I nodded. “Just let me know when you’ve got a date so I can make sure Hank lets me off.”
“I will.” He smiled. “And thanks. It’ll be good to have you there.”
I huffed. “Like there’s any question. After pulling last-second witness duty when you eloped, there better be some fucking cake in my future.”
Dalton laughed and elbowed me. “Okay, fine. I guess you can have some cake.”
I just chuckled. I teased him about owing me for being one of their witnesses when they’d gotten married on three days’ notice, but I’d been honored to do it. And yeah, it had hurt a bit, watching another man slide a ring onto Dalton’s finger.
Standing there, watching him exchange rings and vows with Chris, I’d done some serious thinking about my “no military men” policy. I hadn’t been willing to make an exception for Dalton, and that said a lot. Dalton was a guy I could have fallen hard for. Hard enough that I’d been jealous as fuck when he and Chris had started dating, because I’d known without a doubt I’d missed any chance I’d ever had.
“So what’s going on with you?” he asked. “You still fucking that guy? The one from the club?�
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I nodded.
“Yeah?” Dalton grinned. “How are things going with him?”
“They’re . . .” I swallowed. “They’re going really well.”
He inclined his head. “You don’t sound happy about that.”
“I’m, uh . . . nervous about it.”
“Yeah?” Dalton held my gaze. “Why’s that?”
“Besides the fact that he’s a Cardinals fan?”
Dalton snorted. “Yeah. Besides that.”
“He’s military.” I shook my head. “I can’t fucking do that.”
“But you are doing it.”
I shot him a glare.
Dalton put up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’ve been hooking up with him for, what, a week?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Hooking up. We’re just fucking.”
“Uh-huh.” Dalton sighed. “Look, I totally get it. If the Navy had fucked me over as much as it fucked you over, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near it either. But if this guy’s in the Navy and he’s still got you on the hook like this?” He shrugged. “Maybe there’s something there, you know? Even if it’s just sex right now, there’s obviously some chemistry if you keep going back for more.”
Chewing my lip, I stared into my soda. He had a point. “So it probably won’t help if I say we’re going to Flatstick this weekend. Overnight.”
He chuckled and patted my leg. “No. It doesn’t help.” He turned serious. “Like I said, I get why you’re iffy about him. But as much as you’ve already lost because of the Navy, don’t let this guy be another casualty. If you guys really do turn out to be a good match, and you’ve really got a connection with him? Especially if you’re willing to bend your own rule about dating military guys?” Dalton looked me right in the eyes. “Don’t be a fucking idiot about it.”
“In other words, break my rule.”
“Exactly. If he really is your type and he really does push your buttons like you say he does?” He gave my leg a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be stupid.”
Lowering my gaze, I nodded slowly. It actually annoyed the fuck out of me that Mark was my type. That he hit all the right buttons. I hated that the only thing I could find wrong with him was that he was in the Navy. It was a lot harder to say that was a deal breaker when everything else about the man was so close to perfect.