by Claire Adams
I purposely didn’t mention the asshole’s blonde girlfriend who drifted into my mind every so often, heating my blood and calling to my cock like she had a direct line to it.
Tugger frowned suspiciously, raising a dark eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
I shrugged, giving him a cocky smirk. “I’m trying to cultivate a sensitive side.”
His eyes widened, then he busted out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join in. “Did they change the meaning of sensitive without my knowledge?”
“Don’t think so,” I laughed, then crumbled up the wrappers from my sandwich and threw it in the trash bag we kept on hand. “Okay, enough frivolity. Let’s get back to work.”
Tugger threw out his lunch trash too, then handed me a bottle of water from the small cooler we kept, then took it and the trash bag back to the truck. We resumed our work in silence, taking only short breaks to grab more water and lather up with sunscreen, as Jessie insisted.
The end of the day rolled around before I was ready for it to. Fridays didn’t mean what they used to mean. All they meant was the weekend looming wide and empty since relaxing had become a cuss word in my book. I had to keep moving.
“You sure about that movie?” Tugger asked as we loaded the truck.
“Yeah man, thanks. Believe it or not, I’m not in the mood for gunfire and explosions.” Or the strange longing that came with them—for a life that was no longer mine.
Tugger had settled back into civilian life without too much hassle, presumably because it’d had always been the plan for him, and he had something to come home to. He’d gone through the same shit as everyone else when he’d first gotten home, and occasionally still had a hard time with it, but he was mostly okay. As okay as anyone was.
I was restless. It was almost like a part of me was perpetually waiting on marching orders that would never come again. There were times when I considered going back, but I couldn’t. I knew that I would be a liability and I couldn’t allow that.
Tugger frowned at me again, a deeper crease than before digging into the skin between his eyebrows. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little out of sorts. Do I need to be worried?”
“No,” I said immediately. The last thing I wanted was for Tug to have to worry; I wasn’t a goddamn kid. “No, I’m fine. Just tired, you know?”
Tug’s eyes narrowed for a split second, then he sighed and rested his hand on top of his head. “It has been pretty hot this week.”
“Exactly. I’m going to hit up the bank on the way home and then maybe take a swim later.”
“You’re hitting up a bank, and you didn’t invite me?” he laughed.
I flipped him off but grinned anyway. “Tell you what, I’ll share the take with you anyway and Jess won’t have to worry about visiting your ass in prison.”
Tugger broke out laughing again. “She loves my ass so much; she’d visit me anywhere. Bank’s on the other side of town from here though, you sure you don’t just wanna go on Monday?”
Waving off his concern, I loaded up the last of our equipment. “Nah, I’d rather get it done before the weekend. There’s gotta be a branch around here somewhere; I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, I think there might be one on Cooke. Let me know if you feel like coming over or getting a beer or something over the weekend?”
“Will do; have a good one, brother.” We slapped palms, said our goodbyes, and Tugger headed off to his truck, identical to mine with our company signage on the side.
I blasted the air conditioning in the cab on the way to the bank, finding the branch on Cooke that Tug had mentioned easily. The place was in a drab strip mall and had shitty security, but nothing exciting ever happened in Stone Mountain.
Pushing through the brown glass door, my eyes fell immediately on the one and only clerk manning the desk. And I’d be damned: the girl was none other than Blondie from the night before. Even in her hideous uniform, there was that something about her that called to me. To my cock.
Well, what do you know, maybe the weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all. I could definitely see myself spending it in her. Her boyfriend was an asshole and since taken was my new type, well—if at first you don’t succeed and all that.
Chapter 8
Juliana
The clock was part of a conspiracy against me. I was sure of it. If it moved any slower, it would have to start going backward. When there were only two minutes left until it was finally time to lock the doors, they burst open, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.
The very SEAL who had starred in my dreams last night looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Except he was better at hiding it than I was. My jaw dropped a little, and he must’ve seen it because he gave a low laugh and flashed me a seductive smile as he walked up to my desk.
Heat flooded my cheeks when I came face to face with the man who’d starred in my erotic dream. In the light of day, as impossible as it seemed, he was even more gorgeous than he’d been the night before. Perhaps the alcohol had dulled my senses last night.
His eyes were dark brown but flecked with the gold I’d noticed the night before, almost like a tiger’s eye held up to a ray of sunshine. They were alive and kind, yet guarded and mysterious at the same time.
A black T-shirt clung to a body that, as I suspected, seemed to have been carved from Italian marble. Hair was slightly damp at the roots, causing it to appear casually, yet stylishly disheveled, or like he’d carelessly swept it back numerous times throughout the course of the day.
Miles of golden skin covered thickly corded muscles, and the bottom of his tattoo peeked out on his bicep, but I still couldn’t see what it was. He smelled different than he had the night before, more authentic. Not like sweat or anything, just musky and manly.
All in all, the effect that he had on my body was unprecedented and entirely ridiculous.
“You,” he smirked when he reached me, leaning over the counter and propping himself up on his elbows, so comfortable in his own skin that if I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve sworn that he owned the damn place.
It brought the beginnings of a smile to my face. “And you.”
“I would’ve asked if you come here often,” he wrinkled his nose a little and motioned to my clothes, “but I happen to know you have much better fashion sense than that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Do you, now? What if last night was a fluke and brown happens to be my favorite color?”
“Somehow, I just don’t see that being true,” he mused, narrowing his eyes slightly. He looked like he wanted to add something, but instead drew a check from his back pocket and slid it across the counter. “I’d like to deposit this, please.”
“Sure thing.” Glancing at the clock, I saw that closing time had come and gone, as if the clock’s conspiracy had been specially designed to make sure that I would still be here when the hunky SEAL arrived. As if.
I did my thing and smiled brightly when I was done. No more flirting, I promised myself. The universe, the clock, and my own damn body all had to chill. The only man I should’ve been seeing signs from above about was the one I was going to have a serious talk with later. A talk I’d been rehearsing in my mind all day.
“That’s it,” I told him.
“Thanks. What’re you getting up to tonight?”
I shrugged, reminding myself of my newly implemented no more flirting rule and toned down the smile that had clearly given him the wrong idea. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll probably end up going out somewhere. It being Friday and all.”
“Your ridiculous boyfriend going to be there?” he asked, one dark brow arched. His eyes seemed harder than before, just a glimmer of something dark in them, dangerous almost. And yet, I didn’t feel one iota of fear. It was the complete opposite, actually.
But that didn’t matter. “Yes, probably, and he’s not ridiculous.”
I could’ve defended Scott more confidently, but lo and behold, I just couldn
’t muster anything more. Especially not after waking up by myself that very morning.
He gave me a long look, shrugging. But there was a flash of mild disappointment on his features that I didn’t miss.
“Okay then, have fun. Hope I’ll see you around.”
As much as I shouldn’t have, a part of me hoped for that too.
“See you around,” I said, but he was already almost at the door.
If someone had asked me 10 minutes ago, I would’ve said that I wasn’t an ass girl, but this guy? My eyes dipped to his jeans-clad ass of their own accord, no permission granted.
None necessary, apparently.
He turned when he reached the door, giving me a cheeky smile before he pushed through it.
Crap! Did he catch me checking out his ass? Crap, crap, crap!
When he was gone, I locked up and forced myself not to think of him on my way home. Instead, I made a mental grocery list, braced myself for the conversation I had to have with Scott, and ignored the fact that the hot guy stayed firmly lodged in the back of my mind the whole time.
Scott was on the phone when I got home, pacing the living room like a caged animal and nearly shouting into the handset. He lowered his voice as soon as he saw me, whispering furiously with a deep crease between his eyebrows.
I raised a questioning brow at him, but he waved me off and walked into my second bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
What was with him? He wasn’t behaving at all like himself. Or maybe this was the real him. I felt like I didn’t know anymore. He was supposed to be sharing my bed and my life, but it felt like we were ships passing in the night. Roommates who sometimes drove together when we went out and almost never came home together anymore.
Despite what Scott wanted that night, I was going out with Amber and the girls. Talking to him when he already looked like my own personal thundercloud was not a great idea. We’d probably both just end up saying things we’d regret once we calmed down.
I busied myself with getting ready for the night ahead, starting by washing off the day with a long, cool shower. Try as I might, my mind kept drifting to that damn SEAL as I lathered myself up with my special vanilla body wash.
He was on my mind through my shower, while I dried off, and as I knotted the towel between my boobs and padded to my closet. I didn’t know what it was about him, but I couldn’t shrug him off, couldn’t stop myself from wanting to look good just in case I ran into him again.
When I chose my red wrap dress that fit me like a condom—Amber’s words when we’d found it at a thrift store a couple of months ago—it was with the SEAL in mind. The same was true for when I slathered my lips with matching lipstick and lined my eyes with dark coal-colored liner.
I squeezed a dollop of hair product into my palms and brushed my fingers through my hair to ensure that it would dry in its natural wavy curls. Last, I grabbed a pair of heels that I knew made my legs look kickass and went to find Scott.
He was in the kitchen, just getting off the phone when I got there, face red and eyes dark.
“You ready to go?” I asked him. “I thought we could start at Penn’s for cocktails and see where the night takes us.”
“Can’t. Errands to run. I’m taking your car.”
“What’re you talking about? What errands? It’s Friday night.” I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. Something was going on with Scott, and I very much doubted that I was going to like what it was once I found out.
He brushed off my questions, scoffing. “None of your business. You don’t see me butting into your business, so stay the hell out of it.”
Barely suppressing an eye roll and a massive sigh, I willed myself to stay calm. “Fine, but I’m not sitting at home while you go do whatever it is you have to do. Drop me off at Penn’s on your way?”
“I don’t have time for this shit,” he muttered. “Gotta get to business.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? If you don’t want to take me, then I’ll take my own car, and you can find alternate transportation.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing my keys from the basket I’d dropped them in earlier. “But hurry up; I don’t wanna be late.”
“Where is your car anyway?” I’d noticed it wasn’t parked outside, and at first, I just thought someone had borrowed it again, but if he needed my car for the evening, that clearly wasn’t it.
“Shop,” he grunted, not meeting my eyes.
“What for?” I wasn’t trying to be nosy; I just wanted to find out what was going on with him and why his car had mysteriously disappeared.
I was getting increasingly annoyed with him and worried about his erratic behavior. Scott turned to glare at me as he walked through the front door, leaving it open for me to lock.
“What happened to minding your own business?”
What the hell? I held up a finger to indicate for him to hold up a minute. “First of all, I will not put up with being spoken to like that—”
“Spare me the lecture, would ya?” he sighed, then smiled his most charming smile at me. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just under a lot of pressure at the moment. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Would you please just get in the car and we’ll talk about it later?”
For a long moment, I just looked at him. I didn’t appreciate him patronizing me, but I let it go.
For now.
I huffed out a frustrated breath, crossed my arms, and ignored Scott all the way to Penn’s. When he pulled up outside the trendy bar, I finally turned to face him. “How long are your errands going to take? Will I see you later?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped again, his hands shaking on the wheel under his white-knuckled grip. His jaw was set tight, and he barely glanced at me. “I told you to stay the fuck out of it.”
He was going to give me whiplash at this rate. I gaped at him, arched an eyebrow, and fixed him with a look before I grabbed the handle to my door, launched myself out of it and slammed it behind me without another word.
That talk I’d been meaning to have with Scott had just gotten a ton more serious. I was tired of being treated like shit, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t realize quite how over it I was.
Chapter 9
Pacey
Friday night meant Penn’s would hopefully have a bachelorette party that I could infiltrate. The married partygoers always seemed ready and willing to hook up with a hot former SEAL. I loved bachelorette parties. When women cut loose, they cut fucking loose.
Bachelorette parties, not dissimilar to the male counterpart, seemed to be an excuse to let your hair down all the way, and while I was sure that the post-party guilt was the same as it was for any other party, inhibitions were decidedly lower at these shindigs. Unfortunately, there were no bachelorette parties in sight when I arrived.
The bartender pushed a cocktail on a napkin toward me across the backlit onyx bar: a martini—shaken, not stirred—because if the cocktail was manly and good enough for James Bond, it was good enough for me. The bartender had hardly pushed the drink all the way across the bar before he was off to serve the other patrons clamoring for drinks.
Unlike Rennie’s, Penn’s was always packed on the weekend and tonight was no different. Sleek furnishings of chrome, glass, and wood ably tempered the poured concrete shell of the hip lounge. Its centerpiece was the white onyx bar, which took on the changing colors of lights from the small dance floor.
During the week, it was a low-key place that mostly catered to the young professional crowd. On weekends though, the pace picked up and DJs spun the latest tunes, or one of the local bands performed. It definitely heightened the activity in the lounge.
It was a bit lame for my usual tastes, so I wasn’t a regular in the same way I was becoming at Rennie’s, but it would do just fine for my intentions tonight—find a hot, hopefully taken, woman to bury myself in for a few hours.
Tugger would not have approved, but his movie idea had me gagging. This was an option I could stomach, however b
ad my own post-party guilt might be in the morning. I sipped my cocktail and mentally cataloged my options.
There was a redhead giving me a once-over from the lounge area, and a raven-haired girl rocking the dance floor and drawing the attention of most of the guys in the place. There was a girl with dirty-blonde hair at the opposite side of the bar, a wallflower type with a flowing pink sundress who was biting the straw of her cocktail as she watched the women who were obviously her friends out on the dance floor.
A little ways down the bar from where I was seated stood a brunette with her back to me. She had a pretty decent butt, but none of them held a candle to—shit. The brunette had shifted on her heels, giving me a clear view of who she was talking to, and it was her.
The girl none of them could hold a candle to.
Blondie from the bank.
She was something special, all right. A tight dress adorned her sexy curves in a way that made it look like it had been painted on, and it instantly activated that direct line to my dick. She was stunning, exquisite even, and I was starting to wonder if it was fate that kept throwing her into my path.
Not that I truly believed in fate or destiny any of that shit, but three times in one week when I’d never seen her before, and I had to at least consider the possibility that it was. I was just about to step up to the plate to try and bag her again when I realized that something was off about her.
She wore no traces on her face of the easy smile she’d been wearing when I saw her earlier, of her flirty little gestures or her relaxed movements. Instead, her posture was tight, and her hands were stabbing at the air as she talked animatedly with her friend, a deep frown marring her beautiful face.
A quick scan of our surroundings revealed no sign of her asshole boyfriend either, so it didn’t take a genius to figure out what, or who, had her so worked up. She was deep in conversation with her friend, and I didn’t think interrupting them was going to improve my chances any, but the opportunity would present itself. I just had to wait for it.