“I’m not,” she agreed, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Do you know my mother has never hugged me? She taught me how to be polite in society. Firm rules, admonishments when we acted like kids in her presence. If it weren’t for Grams, no one would have ever picked us up when we fell and held us when we cried.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “My dad is coming to visit me on Friday, but he’ll be alone. I could never hate my children.” She sniffed. “If I had any.” She sniffed again. “Sorry,” she whispered, swiping a tear away.
Patrick pulled her against his chest, intending to hold her as long as it took for her to settle down. Within seconds, she rested her chin on his shoulder, collecting herself. She brushed a few tears from her cheeks and then nestled her head against his chest.
“It’s a lot harder coming to a new town and not knowing anyone than I thought it would be,” she mumured.
Patrick rested his chin against her soft hair. “You met me and Thane. You’ll meet other people. Think you’re pretty brave to leave your family and live on your own. Hell, when I’m not at the base, I still live at home.”
Marg raised her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m glad I met you. Thanks for being a friend. Not sure why all that came out? But I feel better.”
Her brows puckered, and he smoothed them with his thumb. “I like being your friend, too.” He would most definitely be her friend. Marg had her goals like he did. She just needed a shoulder to lean against. He could be that shoulder. When he was around.
Inside the cafe, they grabbed a small table by the window. Marg said she’d only have a couple bites, but when it came, he couldn’t resist teasing her. He’d ordered apple crumble since he knew she liked it from the other night.
Loading the spoon, the desert topped with ice cream spilled over the edges, he taunted her by lifting it between them. “Just a couple bites, remember.” Her eyes followed the spoon. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she tried to grab it from him, but he shook his head. “Open.”
With a playful grin, she opened her mouth and he fed her. “Mmm, so good.” She slowly licked her lips.
Watching her, he almost lost the feeling in his fingers and dropped the spoon. Every brain cell raced to his other head. He chuckled and then he laughed. “You’re a tease.”
She winked at him and cradled her chin in her upturned palm. The ice cream liquefied on his tongue, his body heat surging. Content, she watched him take another bite.
“You’ve had a lot of girlfriends, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Uh, some.”
“How many is some?”
“Why do girls always ask that? How many have you had?”
“Girlfriends? None.”
“Funny. How many guys?”
“Are you asking how many guys have I gone to bed with?”
“That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”
Without moving her head, she lifted two fingers.
The spoon clattered on the table. He gripped the edge to stabilize himself. “Are you kidding me?” He gawked at her.
She nodded with her chin still perched in her palm.
“Two guys. You’ve been with two guys.”
She sat up with arched brows. “Why? Do I look like a slut?”
“No,” he spurted out. “I just…” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I just kinda assumed…”
“Because I’m a model, I’ve been to bed with a lot of guys,” she finished for him.
“I was wrong.”
“Yes, you are. Now your turn.”
Not wanting to answer, he clenched his teeth.
“More than two?”
He rubbed his jaw with an open hand. “Yeah.” From the smirk on her face, she liked making him uncomfortable. A thought popped into his head. “Was Bruce one of them?”
She shook her head grinning.
He drew in a big breath. “Thane?”
Blinking with surprise, she sat back in her chair. The glint of amusement gone. “Why would you say that?”
Idiot. He shrugged. Why had he gone there? She wasn’t a Frog Hog. “I should get you home.”
He’d turned a perfectly great date into a tense misstep. She’d already admitted to being with only two guys. A girl like Marg would never fall for Thane’s come-ons.
Marg walked beside him back to the bike without uttering a word. He needed to apologize to her, again. He barely knew the girl and yet he’d managed to run out on her, then reel her back in, and then cut the line one more time. Thane had been right, he needed to keep things simple with Marg, but she managed to tie him up in knots whenever she set her baby blues on him.
They reached the bike, and he offered her a helmet. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re…you’re—”
“A slut,” she finished for him as she accepted the helmet.
He shook his head, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.
“That’s not me, Patrick.” She turned her gaze to the pavement. “I may have made a mistake. Done something I regret now, being too impetuous, but I’m not a whore.”
He pulled on his own head gear. “I know you’re not. Every time I open my mouth around you, I seem to stick my foot in it.”
Marg gave him a shallow smile. God, he’d truly screwed this up. Driving back to her condo, his mind churned with a way to make it up to her. Or maybe he should think of Marg instead of himself and let Bruce have his shot. The guy probably had an Ivy League education like her, spoke like a linguist and could sweep her off her feet.
Marg hopped off the second he’d stopped at her front door. She handed him her helmet. “Thanks.”
He accepted it and secured it onto the back of his bike. Start talking, man, or she’ll be walking away for good.
“It was nice getting to know you, Patrick.” She put distance between them.
He swallowed deeply. “Yeah, you too.” Aw, you lughead.
She nodded once. “Good night.”
Marg paused for only a second and then turned to walk away from him. He shivered when an unexpected warm breeze, caught between the bands of cool air, washed past him.
“Marg.” He didn’t wait for his inner doubts to present some sensible debate. He wanted to see her again. Soon. “Do we still have a date on Friday night?”
“Are you going to kiss me good night?” Her voice held a haughty little tone.
He bowed his head and chuckled. “No.” He said it more to see her reaction.
“Fine,” she quipped and tipped her shoulder. “Bruce did.”
Oh man, oh man. He torqued his brow. “There’s a difference between me and him, Marg.”
She cocked her head. “And that is?”
“When I kiss you for the first time, it’ll be on my terms when you least expect it.”
She clutched her palms together. “I might not feel like kissing you then, Patrick Cobbs. Sure you want to take that chance?”
He chuckled again. Relaxed and straddling his bike, he gazed at her. Smart and beautiful. Most guys would think he was off his rock, tempting fate or her ire. “I’ll take that chance. Let’s do things the old-fashioned way.”
“You make me nuts,” she finally blurted.
An honest laugh erupted from his chest, seeing he was twisting her into a ball of crazy. “This is good training for you, Miss Stines.”
“How?” she barked at him. Her brow squished together.
“Although you say you don’t want to live the life of luxury, I think you’re used to getting what you want.”
Her knuckles collided with her waist. “Are you calling me spoiled?”
“Are you?”
She took a quick step toward him and leaned over. Within an inch of his mouth, her voice slipped into a silky timbre. “No, SEAL, I’m not. You can keep your kisses. I don’t want—”
Execute. His hands palmed her cheeks and his mouth powered down on hers. Every ounce of blood rushed from his head to his heart. Her gorgeous body melted against his, submitting. Holy God in heaven! He’d
been right. Kissing this woman coiled his lust tight.
Their kiss blazed and then ended with a slow burn before he gently pulled away. The corner of his mouth curved. “See you Friday.” He kick-started the engine to life.
“Friday…” she said meekly, gazing at him, still stunned.
He winked at her. Before his lust started talking him into screwing up the start to something incredible, he wheeled around the fountain and rode away.
Chapter Eleven
Kit Harper lay on a lounger in his brother’s backyard with a beer stuck between his thighs. The late October sun warm enough to catch a few rays.
“What’s with the long face, bro,” Randy asked, setting an ice cold beer on his bare shoulder, making him jump.
“Asshole,” he growled.
Randy chuckled and sat on the spare chair, stretching his legs out in a relaxed pose. He chugged back a gulp and cleared his throat. “What’s up, tadpole? You look like someone ran over your lily pad.”
“More like got embarrassed in front of Marg by an asshole.”
Randy lifted his shades and propped them on his shaved head. “Marg?”
“Marg Stines. She’s the gal at the diner the other night. We were supposed to meet up at St. George’s. That fucking dick Austen got in the way. Again.”
Randy cleared his throat and shrugged his heavy set shoulders. “So what.”
“He thinks he’s God’s gift.”
Pinching his lips together in thought, Randy sniffed and tilted his head. “He’s over confident. Most of those guys end up washing out. Wouldn’t worry about it.”
Kit shook his head. “He made me look bad in Phase Three. The instructors made me the lead on a boat crew out at San Clemente. My regular team were a bunch of losers, so I was glad to be swapped to the winning boat crew. Cobbs, took over my loser crew, but I ended up with Austen. Cobbs’ crew won, and I lost. I think Austen fucked me on purpose. I owe that sonofabitch.”
“Little brother, you’re going to run into lots of swinging dicks you’re not gonna like, but you have to back your team mate.”
“What if he screws me over on SQT’s? I want this, Randy. I want to be a SEAL like you.”
Randy sat forward. “Then fuckin’ earn it. Plenty of guys want to be SpecForce, and plenty of them are stellar men, but they don’t make it.”
“Why?”
“Fear. Too much confidence, or lack of it. Trying to go lone-wolf. Plenty of reasons. You have to earn your Budweiser the same way I did.”
Sheila, Randy’s wife hung over the balcony. “Honey, I’m heading into town for some groceries. Anything special you want?”
“Nah, babe, whatever you make is great.”
“Love you.” She blew him a kiss and disappeared.
Kit burned with jealousy. His brother had been a SEAL for ten years. Sheila was gorgeous and five months pregnant. His brother had it all. “Marg’s a model. I know we’d hit it off if I could get Cobbs outta the way. Austen keeps playing interference anytime I catch sight of her.”
Randy tucked his empty beer bottle under his chair. “She got a phone number?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, why?”
“Then what’s stopping you from dialing it?”
“Austen’s probably been lippin’ off about me. I never did a fucking thing to him, but he hates me.”
“Kit, stop worrying about what other people think. If you want the girl, go get the girl. Hell, Sheila hated my guts when we first met.”
Kit laughed. “Yeah, I remember when she slapped you across the face at the baseball game.”
“I deserved it. Talking trash to a lady will get you nowhere.”
Kit snorted. “But she changed her tune when she found out you were a SEAL.”
Randy leaned over and pulled another cold beer from the cooler sitting next to Kit. “No, she didn’t. She really didn’t like me then. Knew I’d be gone most of the time. Her dad is Navy, so she understood she’d be raising our children by herself if she decided to take a chance on me. I worked hard to put a ring on that woman’s finger.” Randy tipped the neck of the bottle toward him. “If you want to have a shot at Marg, you need to show her you’re a man worth having.”
Kit burped and shook his head. “Least I wasn’t born in the Heights like Cobbs. The guy probably cut cars apart after dark in that garage he works at. Just didn’t get caught by the cops.” His gaze roamed the small backyard. Sheila had planted shrubs around the perimeter. A few potted plants decorated the patio with the last blooms of summer hanging on for dear life.
Randy eyed him.
“What?” he snapped. “You gonna tell me some shit about it doesn’t matter where a guy is raised? Bullshit. Cobbs is trash. He knows it. I know it, and soon Marg’s gonna know it.” Kit pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. With a flick of his lighter, the end sizzled to life, mesmerizing him. He loved fire. The smell. The complete destruction of anything that stood in its way. He inhaled the smoke deep, enjoying the tingle in his throat.
“You’re not gonna last long suckin’ on those, little brother.”
“I’ll quit,” he said, the cigarette bouncing at the edge of his lip. “After I make it into the teams.” A stream of smoke curled past his eye and he squinted. “I’m getting a tat this afternoon. You comin’?”
Randy grinned. “Sure. What you getting’ inked?”
“My arm. Want a skull and anchor. It’ll bring me good luck.”
Randy finished his second beer and stood up. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Kit jumped up from his chair. “Wanna shoot a round of pool before we go?”
Randy cranked a muscled, hairy arm around Kit’s head and squeezed like he used to do when Kit was a kid. “Still gonna beat your ass, youngin’.”
He pushed away and grinned. “Maybe, but the one thing I’m not losing is my Trident. Nothing is gonna stop me.”
Randy’s smile dimmed. “That’s a good way to think, Kit, but you haven’t been out in the field yet. You gotta use your head or you’ll lose it and come home in a box.”
Kit nodded. “Don’t want to end up there, either.”
Randy hooked an arm around Kit’s shoulder and they walked toward the driveway. “Why don’t you play nice with Austen and Cobbs until you finish your SQT’s? The instructors are looking out for guys who get along with everyone. If they think you got a vendetta against anyone on the team, they’ll fire your ass out of the program.”
Kit opened the passenger car door. “I hear ya.”
Randy leaned an arm on the roof. “I hope so. Keep your eyes and ears open and a lid on your temper. I’ll do my damnedest to be there the day they pin the Budweiser on your uniform.”
Kit wasn’t worried about the Trident. He’d take Austen or Cobbs out if he had to, just like he’d done with his swim buddy who was a useless sack of shit and didn’t deserve to be a SEAL. The instructors kept harping about relying on your team. Fuck that. He relied on himself. He needed to apply the same consideration to Marg. Sure, she was just one gorgeous chick out of many, but he wanted her in the worst way. Getting between her legs would be fucking sweet. He needed to do a little recon on her and maybe throw a few sharks in the pool to make sure she saw Cobbs for who he was.
The other night at the bar, Cobbs got pissed when he’d mentioned Austen leaving St. George’s with Marg. Maybe Cobbs didn’t know Austen and Marg had a roll in the sack. Which meant Marg probably didn’t want Cobbs to know. He smiled. Leverage was always a good tool during negotiations.
* * * *
Marg picked up the phone after the first ring. “Hey, Dad, I’ll be right down.”
“Don’t I get to come up and see your place?” he said into the intercom.
“Later, I’m starving.” She hung up and rode the elevator down to the lobby.
“Sweetheart,” her father greeted, giving her a hug when she pushed through the front doors.
Marg squeezed him and ignored the hitch in her hear
t when she didn’t see her mom. “Hi, Dad.” He led her to the jag he left parked in front of the lobby.
When they buckled up, he said, “How about Mister A’s? I had my secretary make us a reservation. Haven’t been there for a long time.”
“Sure, Dad. Sounds great.”
He reached over and covered her hand as they drove through town. “Sweetheart, your mother was busy at a fundraiser. She couldn’t make an excuse.”
Marg stared out the side window. “It’s okay,”
When they arrived at the restaurant the Maître D seated them personally. “Monsieur Foster. Mademoiselle Foster.”
“Stines,” she corrected. Her father blinked and then darted a look at the Maître D.
The Maître D didn’t flinch, offering them the menus. “We have a special lunch menu prepared if you’d like. Chef Delacroix is world renown.”
“That’s fine, but ask him to keep it lean and a bottle of Lafite-Rothschild Bordeaux,” her father said.
“Very good, sir.”
“Dad, we could have gone to Wendy’s, too.”
He chuckled. “We’re celebrating.”
“We are?” She relaxed in her chair. “New blockbuster coming out?”
He shook his head. “Your success as a model.”
“I’ve been in a few shoots. I wouldn’t call myself a success yet.”
The server returned with the wine and soon after, an appetizer with scallops, mussels, buttermilk and leek appeared on their table.
“I’ve been keeping track, and your pictures are lovely,” he said.
“How exactly have you been keeping track, Dad?”
He shrugged as he picked up his glass. “To my oldest daughter, whom I’m very proud of.”
She grinned and accepted his toast. “Thank you.” She took a sip and lowered her glass. “Guess you’ve got connections, huh?”
He nodded. “A few.”
Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5) Page 12