Laws of Attraction

by RC Boldt

  Shoving her beer at Kane, barely waiting on him to grab it, she walked out the doors, needing to get some air. Because she was pissed. She didn’t want to be the woman who needed rescuing. Didn’t want to be the woman who needed men to help extract her from an awkward situation. She’d been fending for herself for far longer than most. She was adept at handling herself, at handling situations like that.

  Blowing out a loud breath, she exited the large bar and walked out onto the sidewalk, the music fading the farther she got. She was less than ten yards away when she heard her name being called.

  “Lee.”

  Whipping around, she was prepared to light into the person who had chased after her when she had thought she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to be bothered. But once faced with who had followed her, she felt the breath catch in her throat again at the sight of him. However, his next words distracted her from his appearance.

  “Don’t be upset with them.” His light blue eyes seemed to shine brighter in the glow of the street lights.

  “What the hell, Laws?” She threw up her arms, her voice rising in anger and frustration. “I don’t need that from anyone. I’ve made it my entire life not needing help from anyone. I can take care of myself!”

  Watching his brows furrow as he stepped closer, his voice suddenly matched hers in both intensity and volume. “Well, you need to deal with it, Ford. Because that’s what we do! We take care of our own! That’s what friends—friends who are like family—do!”

  Eyes widened in shock at the fact that Lawson was speaking to her so … passionately, so seriously, so … without humor had her at a loss for words.

  His expression softened, lowering his voice. “Look, I get it. I do. No one’s ever had your back before. You’ve always had to fend for yourself. But,” he reached a hand out, tentatively brushing back a loose strand of her dark hair, tucking it behind her ear, “you have us now.”

  “You have us now.”

  His gently spoken words seemed to reach out and wrap their arms around her, eliciting feelings she wasn’t even sure she could define. Closing her eyes on a small sigh, she stood there, feeling his gaze upon her.

  “I don’t think I know how—or if I can—let anyone do that for me.” Eyes opening, gazing up at him, she saw the corner of his lips turn upward. While she watched him cautiously, he reached out, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

  “You can, Lee. I know you can. You just have to have a little faith.”

  She wasn’t sure how long they stood there on that sidewalk, caught up in each other. Finally, she realized she hadn’t addressed what had knocked the breath out of her from the start.

  Angling her head quizzically, she asked, “What happened to your beard?”

  C

  HAPTER EIGHT

  Hartley’s second law: Never, ever go to bed with anyone crazier than you.

  Langley’s take: Pretty sure Lawson Briggs wouldn’t have any trouble with that law. But, deep down, I think I may be warming up to his brand of crazy.

  ~

  SHIT. HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN she would just come right out with it and ask him about his beard. Or, more accurately, lack thereof.

  Running a hand over his face, still reeling from the feel of smooth skin beneath his hand, he grimaced. Because, the truth of the matter was, he’d done it for her. He, Lawson Briggs, had done the unthinkable. He had eliminated his pride and joy.

  He’d shaved off his beard.

  Cue the horrified gasps sounding within his own mind. Because, yeah. He had prided himself on his beard, it was true. Yet, he’d decided to go and shave it off.

  Because of Langley Ford. Because of his Lee. Because of the words she’d spoken when they had first met last fall: “I don’t have a thing for beards.”

  Deciding to be direct, he met her gaze. “I did it for you.”

  She appeared to falter for a response. “For me?”

  He nodded, gazing into the depths of her brown eyes. “For you,” he repeated softly.

  Her full lips parted and she breathed out, “Why?”

  How could this incredibly extraordinary woman not know, not comprehend that shaving off his beard was just the tip of the iceberg of the things he’d gladly do for her?

  Stepping closer, eliminating the distance between them, he gave her a small smile, his tone subdued. “You once told me you didn’t have a thing for beards.”

  Her eyes took in his new look, drifting over his face before finally returning to meet his gaze, her lips curving up slightly with mischief. “What if I said I liked you better with the beard?”

  His eyebrow arched, smile widening. “Then I’d say that I can always grow it back. Although,” his arms opened wide, gesturing to himself, “I feel like this might open up doors for me. With, as Kane would say, the youngins.”

  “Really?” Her dry expression spoke volumes.

  Eyes alit with mischief, he pretended to brush off lint from his shoulder. “Yep. Because, as you may have heard, I’ve been told that I’m an absolute delight.” Cocking an eyebrow, he added, “Without the beard, though, I’m off the chain captivating. Am I right? Or am I right?”

  She snorted, shaking her head, and suddenly he had a realization. Folding his arms across his chest, he peered at her.

  “Quick question. I know this is crazy talk, but do you ever break out a genuine smile? You know, a real one where your lips and teeth do this …” He broke off in an exaggerated, broad grin. “And, tada! You’re actually smiling!” Raising his eyes expectantly, he prompted, “Ever happen?”

  “Once or twice,” she answered with a bored expression, but he could see the amusement in her eyes.

  “Pffft. I call bullshit. I think you’re bluffing.”

  “And would you look at that? My night is completely ruined now.” She released a sigh full of mock sadness, brown eyes sparkling with humor. “Lawson Briggs called bullshit. However will I go on?”

  “Okay, so what about my smolder, though?” He morphed his expression into an exaggerated “sexy” look. “You never answered me the other night. You liked it, right? Be honest. It wowed you, didn’t it? To the point where you swooned a bit? Gone with the Wind style?” He fixed an expectant look upon her.

  And that was when he witnessed the most amazing thing happen.

  She actually smiled, along with a touch of a genuine laugh.

  It was official, his night was complete.

  * * *

  “So, there we were, lost in the midst of downtown New Orleans during their annual Jazz Festival, the crowds rivaling those during Mardi Gras. We’re both pretty drunk and had just been pickpocketed so we didn’t have cash for a cab to get us back to the hotel. Our phones were also long gone with whoever had made off with our money, and I only had the hotel key card along with my driver’s license which I had, luckily, stashed deep into the front pocket of my shorts.” Zach broke off with a chuckle, shaking his head in memory, before continuing. “So Laws turns to me and says, dead serious, ‘Hold my dignity for minute. I’ve got some sketchy shit to do.’ And then he disappears for like ten minutes before he comes back, promptly tells me he’s got forty bucks cash, flags down a cab, and we’re off to our hotel.”

  Langley watched as everyone around their table cracked up with laughter. As the laughs subsided, Zach took a quick drink from his beer. “We’re in the backseat of the cab on the way back to the hotel and I turn to Laws and ask him where the hell he got forty bucks. He turns to me and says—”

  “I’ll tell you once we’re in the safety and confines of our hotel room,” Lawson finished with a chuckle.

  “Man …” Mac ran a hand over his face with a laugh. “Not sure if I want to know what you did for that cash.”

  She watched as Lawson leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Let’s just say, it was a good thing that what goes on in New Orleans stays in New Orleans.”

  “Or,” Zach flashed a knowing look, “it was a good thing he spotted a local bar with a
rainbow flag flying proudly. And that they had a thing for bearded blond men. And that it was also amateur dance night.”

  Choked laughs sounded, amidst the gawking stares from some of their friends.

  Foster was the first to speak. “I’m caught between being horrified that you probably stripped for a bunch of random dudes in a bar, and being impressed that you actually made forty bucks in a ten-minute time frame.”

  “He also had a special message written along the inside of his wrist.” Zach was clearly enjoying sharing this story that the others hadn’t heard.

  “What was written on your wrist?” Tate asked.

  Lawson gave a mixture of a grimace and a laugh. “It said, ‘You can be my private dancer anytime’, listed a phone number and was signed ‘Tiny Tim’.”

  Loud guffaws of laughter sounded from the entire table.

  “Seriously? How did this story never come up before?” Raine asked, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “It was our first Spring Break holiday once we’d started teaching and we made a pact not to discuss it for at least a few years afterward, so it just never came up,” Lawson explained. Looking over at Zach, he gave a slight shudder. “I still have nightmares about having so many beefy fingers tucking money into my boxer briefs.”

  “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” Kane hid his face in his hands, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

  “So, let me get this straight.” Miller leaned his muscled forearms on the table, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Am I to understand that you have a special dance routine for Tina Turner’s ‘Private Dancer’?”

  “And, more importantly, that you’ve been holding out on us?” Mac added, wide grin on his handsome face. “We’ve got to see this infamous dance of yours, Laws.”

  “Ha, ha.” Lawson shook his head before leaning back in his chair with a cocky smile, casually running a hand down his chest. “Frankly, I’m not entirely sure you could handle the moves I’ve got.”

  Collective groans sounded only to be interrupted by the karaoke DJ, Dean, announcing the next singer.

  “And next we’ve got Lawson coming up to sing Adina Howard’s ‘Freak Like Me’.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Foster gave a pained expression.

  Wagging a finger at Foster, Lawson tsked. “Now, now. I take Adina Howard’s hit song very seriously. Just you wait and see.”

  She watched as he took the stage, accepting the microphone from the DJ with flourish, and after the beginning notes of the song sounded, he began to sing. About how he had a little freakiness inside, about needing a roughneck man, and oh … Now, he was adding some interesting and suggestive dance moves to his performance.

  “He’s something else, isn’t he?” The question was posed by Tate, sitting beside her at the table.

  Her lips twisted as she glanced over at the petite blonde grinning at her. “That’s definitely one way of putting it.”

  Leaning closer, Tate’s expression sobered. “He’s a good one, you know.”

  “The man who stripped for a bunch of men for cash? You mean him?” Her tone was flippant, and she waved her hand in the direction of where Lawson was still up on stage, singing and really getting into his performance if his dance moves were anything to go by. “That guy up there, singing about being a sexual freak looking for a man?”

  The way Tate was studying her, she felt as though the woman could see beneath her response. Pursing her lips as if trying to choose her words carefully, Tate focused her light blue eyes intently on her, making her feel a nearly undeniable urge to fidget, and she nearly let out a sigh of relief when Tate turned her attention back to Lawson.

  “Lawson’s like an onion.” The other woman spoke as they both continued to watch Lawson’s performance, which was garnering much attention from the rest of the bar patrons, men and women alike. “He’s got a lot of layers, but you only get a glimpse of those deeper layers if he trusts you and cares about you.” Shaking her head with a small smile, Tate added, “He’s that person who wants everyone to be happy and, if it’s at his expense, so be it.”

  She turned back to face her. “It’s probably a terrible and an extremely loose comparison, but it’s kind of the same thing with you and the others. You want everyone to be safe, to protect those you care for, which is probably one of the reasons you and the others joined the military.” She eyed her, gaze seeming to implore her to understand. “He wants us to all be happy, wants us to not sweat the small stuff, to remind us that life is something to be lived—to be enjoyed. You can’t fault him for that.” Tate’s eyes turned a shade harder, tone firm and commanding, the fierce affection she held for Lawson becoming vividly apparent. “You shouldn’t fault him for that.”

  She held up a hand, watching Tate with amusement. “Easy there, Momma Bear.”

  A sheepish smile came over the other woman’s face. “Sorry. I just—”

  “Take care of your own,” she finished for her.

  “Exactly.”

  “We take care of our own.” Lawson’s earlier words echoed in her mind, reminding her that he had not merely spoken those words to her, but the way he had said them, she had been included in them. This odd mix of friends had, without any question, taken her in, automatically including her in their group.

  And, in that moment, she felt as though she could detect the first sign of the slightest crumbling of the long-established walls of protection she’d built long ago.

  C

  HAPTER NINE

  Charles’ law: Gases tend to expand when heated.

  Lawson’s take: I can tell you what ‘expands’ under heat. Wink, wink. And that ‘heat’ source is none other than a beautiful former PJ.

  ~

  “YOU PREPARING TO KICK OUR butts, again?” Jake, one of the regular participants of the hybrid CrossFit class Lawson led, joked as he walked into the area of the large gym where they were gathering.

  After taking over teaching the class when the former instructor had relocated, he’d discovered that many of the class participants appreciated when he integrated some of the more faster-paced cardio activities into the mix. He had chosen to create a workout which consisted of the fundamentals found in the normal CrossFit workouts and combined them with similar exercises found in the popular Insanity workouts, creating a hybrid workout that kept the students from being bored from too many repetitions.

  He grinned back at Jake, joking, “Why, you feeling sluggish from too much junk food?” It was well-known that Jake was a healthy, in-shape guy—much like himself. Jake was one of the best, most dedicated students in the class.

  “Have room for one more student?” The female voice made both men turn, and pleasant surprise washed over him.

  He flashed her a smile. “I’ve always got room for you, Lee.” Turning to Jake, he introduced the two. “What you may not know is that Miss Lee, here, served in the U.S. Air Force as a combat pararescueman.” He furrowed his brows, looking at her. “Or pararescue woman?”

  Her lips curved up slightly, amused. “Pararescueman is fine, Briggs. No need to be PC with me.”

  Peering up at the clock on the wall, he noted the time. “Time to get crackin’, kids. Let’s head on over and get started.”

  As the others preceded him in walking over to the designated area in preparation, he found his eyes drifting over Lee. Starting from the no-nonsense ponytail that swayed slightly as she walked, over her muscularly toned shoulders and arms, pausing on her tight ass before lowering to her powerful looking quads and calves.

  And had to promptly begin thinking of his grandmother doing God knows what with one of her many boyfriends—yes, she normally had more than one—in her assisted living community.

  Whew. That did it. That made the start of his erection go down. Now, all he had to do was concentrate on everything but Lee and how fucking sexy she looked. How sexy she would look after they worked out, all slick with perspiration and—

  Fuck.

  Time
to go back to thinking about Gran.

  * * *

  She loved working out, especially loved pushing herself harder each time to try and achieve a personal record. And, much to her surprise, Lawson actually worked the class hard, yet not in an overly obnoxious manner. He encouraged and assisted, when necessary, all while actively participating in the workout. She had been enjoying the class, had taken delight in the moment where she could clear her mind and merely concentrate on the workout itself.

  Until about halfway through when her concentration had basically turned to shit. And by shit, she meant that Lawson had pretty much sweat through his sleeveless workout shirt and removed it.

  Yeah. He’d removed it, leaving firm pectorals to be showcased along with the ridges of his abdominals down to the sharp indentations on either side pointing downward. And that smattering of hair, a trail from his belly button downward? Her eyes were riveted to it.

  Riveted.

  To.

  It.

  This particular gym was one of very few whose policy permitted men to workout shirtless, if they should choose to do so. And she had never before wanted to submit a heartfelt ‘Thank You’ note to the gym management for having the policy in place—maybe even give a huge kiss on the lips to the person who had written it into the rules. Because Lawson’s body was a pure work of art.

  No, he wasn’t broadly muscular as was the case with Foster or Miller, but his body provided clear evidence of all the hard work he’d put into it. He was tall, lean, and muscled, and she was hard pressed to detect any fat on him. His body had been nearly mesmerizing as she watched him move fluidly.

  “Lee, you okay over there?” Her eyes flew up, meeting his own which appeared concerned. And why wouldn’t he be? Because she had, apparently, paused in mid-repetition of their ‘ski downs’.

  Paused. To gawk at his body—er, him.