She cocked her head at him and asked, "Pretty sure?"
"Yeah, you may have to grovel a bit, but I think it’s a given he'll forgive you."
"Grovel?"
Gunner nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I hear a home cooked meal goes a long way in the groveling department." His father had told him about the cakes and cookies she sometimes brought into the Walrus. If the woman could cook? Getting an invite to dinner was a stretch, but hey, in for a penny, in for a pound.
Her smile lit up her face. "Well, if you see that guy, tell him to come by for dinner on Sunday night."
She started walking back up the hill when he called out to her. "What time should I tell him to be there?"
"Tell him to come at seven." She didn't turn around, but he could hear the amusement in her voice.
He walked the shoreline and then headed up to his own house. He took off his shoes in the garage, placing them on the rack just inside the door of the kitchen as he entered. His clothes landed in a heap inside the laundry basket on his way to the shower. He cranked the knobs and waited for the water to warm. He gazed at himself in the mirror and mentally groaned. He leaned closer. Fuck. There was a grey hair in his beard. Just one, but it was there. Didn't that just make him feel old as fuck? At forty, his body was still in good condition. The training he did on a daily basis kept him fit, although he'd scaled his workouts down from the rigors of day-to-day training in Coronado. Granted, he wasn't as fast as he used to be, and it took longer in the morning to loosen up after a hard workout then it did when he was younger, but didn't that commercial say forty was the new thirty? Get over yourself, Kincade. He snagged the offending grey hair between his thumb and index finger and yanked. His eyes watered. Holy shit-balls. He regretted the decision immediately. Fuck, that hurt.
The steam from the shower finally started to crawl over the glass doors calling him into the warmth. The run had relaxed him, and the conversation with A.J. had gone better than he had a right to hope. Talking without bodily injury or incidental exposure was an improvement. Well...a rueful chuckle echoed in the confines of the glass-enclosed shower. No more denial about his attraction to her. Not any longer. A.J. walloped every one of his ideal woman requirements with a one-two punch.
Gunner ignored the urge to reach down and rub one out while thinking about all the boxes that woman ticked. Instead, he showered quickly and got out. He may be old-fashioned, or hella stupid, but considering the things he'd recently learned about her, he figured she deserved someone who would respect her. Maybe he'd get a shot at being that man. A wicked grin spread across his face. As a matter of fact, he'd make it his objective to be that man. Target acquired.
Chapter 7
A.J. had witnessed Gunner's charm as he worked the crowd from behind the bar, but she'd never had the full force of it turned on her. This week had been insanely busy. Tessa had called in sick, so A.J. stepped up and pulled Tessa's scheduled shifts. At first, she'd thought she'd imagined the attention…the small touches that seemed to come out of nowhere and last for only moments. As if reading her mind, Gunner's hand rested lightly on her back as he walked behind her at the bar, letting her know he was crossing. She glanced up from the blender drink she was making, and he winked at her. A.J. felt the fire in her cheeks.
A gorgeous brunette leaned against the bar. A.J. poured the strawberry daiquiri, added whipped cream and a split strawberry to the top. She handed it to the woman who had ordered it, added the cost to the woman's tab and turned her attention to the new arrival. "What can I get you?" A.J. wiped the bar in front of the woman and slipped a paper coaster with the Walrus' logo on it in front of her.
"I'll take him." The woman's attention was focused down the bar where Gunner poured draft beer for an order he'd taken.
"Sorry, don't think he's on the menu. Do you actually want a drink?" A.J. held on tightly to the grip she had on her fake smile. The woman's interest in Gunner nudged emotions she didn't want to admit to feeling.
"Whoa, a little hostility there?" The woman drew her eyes from Gunner and gave A.J. an obvious once-over and immediate dismissal as if she wasn't even to be considered as competition.
"I'm sorry if you thought so, we are very busy. Please place your order or move, so the people behind you can be served." A.J. placed her hands on her hips. It was something she did to take up just a little more space. Being small-statured her entire life, she'd learned how to stand up for herself, be a little bit louder than most, and not back down when she knew she was right. It had worked for the most part, until Marcus.
"Fine, I'll have some sex on the beach." The woman's voice softened to a purr as she spoke.
A hand on her back preceded Gunner leaning into her. He bent down and spoke to her so no one else could hear, "Are you all right? You look upset."
She glanced up at him. The concern in his voice was echoed in his eyes. She gave him a tight smile and shook her head before she whispered, "The customer is being difficult. Nothing I can't handle."
Gunner kept his head lowered but glanced at the woman who preened under his darted look. He turned his gaze back down to her and smiled before he winked. "You've got this."
Before A.J. could reply he dropped a kiss to her forehead and headed back down to take care of those who wanted a draft beer or bottled beer. A.J. stood there transfixed as she watched him leave.
"Can I get my drink?" The woman's voice snapped A.J. back to reality.
"Sure, you wanted sex on the beach." She grabbed a cocktail shaker and the vodka looking for the peach schnapps.
"No, just give me a Chardonnay."
A.J. glanced up at the woman and shrugged. "No problem, whatever you want."
The woman glanced down the bar. "Evidently not."
A.J. placed the wine on the bar. "Will that be all or are you opening a tab?"
“Since it appears you aren’t serving what I originally ordered…” the woman dropped a ten, "…No need to stay." She turned and walked away.
A.J. spun and rang up the drink, deposited the ten and drew the change out of the register, throwing it into the tip jar that she'd split between Gunner and Tessa at the end of the night. Tessa needed the tips more than she ever would, and A.J. wasn't going to deny her a portion of her income because she was sick.
The kiss on the forehead had unsettled her. Her hands shook. For the rest of the night, each time she'd get lost in the grind of work, a touch, caress, whisper or wink would intrude and nosedive her down the fluttery butterfly rabbit-hole her mind told her to avoid. Too bad her heart hadn't gotten the message. Gunner Kincade angry and avoiding her she could handle, but Gunner Kincade focused, attentive, flirtatious and protective? There was a beast that could easily consume her. She'd let him overwhelm her without a fight. Lord have mercy, she wanted his touches. She coveted them. She thirsted for his attention and ached to have him care enough about her to be protective.
She poured two martinis, added the extra olives that were requested and set the drinks down in front of the two regulars who had a running tab. She spun to log the orders and slammed into a brick wall. Hands grabbed her arms keeping her from reeling backward.
"Sorry, babe." Gunner released her. He winked as he passed by her heading to the cooler.
"Babe?" She whispered the word as she charged the drinks and slipped the receipt into the appropriate folio. A.J. glanced back at Gunner. He was laughing with several couples as he popped beer bottle caps and set the open bottles in front of the customers. He collected the cash and headed back to the till. She surveyed the bar and then glanced at the clock. The crowd was thinning, and nobody seemed to need a drink refreshed at the moment.
She shuffled to the left so Gunner could ring up the last purchase. He dropped the change into the tip jar and jammed the bills down, so they didn't overflow. The crowd had been generous tonight. He shut the till, and spun, leaning on the back shelves. He nodded at the front of the house. "A good night for the most part. I need to go bus the front of the
house. You got this?"
A.J. nodded. He grabbed a plastic bin and headed out to collect their customers’ evening detritus. The 'babe' comment had to be a slip of the tongue. There was no way it was a term of endearment. She scrubbed that flickering fantasy out of her mind and got busy. There was always something to do behind the bar. The hot soapy water called her, so she headed over and made short work of washing and sanitizing the glasses that were stacked to the side of the station. As she rinsed the last glass, she caught the eye of the brunette who had stayed after all, and her one glass of Chardonnay had turned into three. The brunette directed a taunting smile at her before she spun and sidled up to Gunner where he worked clearing a table. Blood red fingertips trailed up his bicep, and the woman leaned toward him. The invitation was obvious. Gunner smiled at her and A.J. dropped her eyes. She didn't want to witness her feeble imagined chances with Gunner vaporize like the apparition it appeared to be. Call it self-preservation. She didn't have to watch this spider catch that fly.
A request for another drink was a welcome distraction. A.J. chastised herself for entertaining such stupid romantic dreams. She made the requested Jack and Coke and drew a deep breath. She needed to pull her head out of the clouds and face the fact Gunner Kincade had not singled her out for special treatment. He treated everyone the way he'd been treating her tonight. She'd make him dinner on Sunday night. They'd have a polite conversation, and she'd go to bed. Alone. Again. Which was fine with her. Men complicated things and were risks to one’s physical health. Part of her immediately objected. Not him, he isn't like Marcus. Great. Just what she needed, a duel with her own brain. No, Gunner was nothing like Marcus, but he was a complication. She came here to put down roots. To find a place away from the drama of her east Texas home and to be happy. Doesn't being happy mean finding a man to share your life with? A.J. growled and quickly glanced around to make sure no one had heard her. Satisfied no one was paying attention to the mental debate raging in her head, she shoved back at the thought. No, she didn't have to find a man. She was just fine as she was. Period. End of story. I am woman, hear me roar. A.J. snorted and shook her head. "Rawr," she snickered. Two more asked for their tab, interrupting her rousing back-and-forth with herself. She busied herself closing out accounts and cleaning behind the bar. Gunner was nowhere to be seen, which was okay. He hadn't had a break all night. It would have been nice of him to tell her he was stepping out, but whatever. A.J. closed out the last tab and called the local cab to come to get one of her regulars after a lively but short-lived argument with the obviously drunk man. She wasn't going to lose their liquor license because someone got behind the wheel incapacitated. It was worth the seventeen dollars the cabbie would charge. She'd deliver Bartlett to the curb along with a soda for the cabbie and then lock the door and put an end to one of the longest nights she'd endured since she took the job. Lord above, her feet ached. If she’d walked an inch, she’d walked five miles. She grabbed the elastic of her bra and adjusted it. The melted daiquiri that a regular had tipped over and splashed her with had long since dried into a distant memory. The stickiness? Not so much. She made a mental note to replenish the hand cream under the bar. Her hands were pruned and chapped from washing and sanitizing an evening’s worth of drink glasses. The minutia of the end of shift matters hadn’t been important earlier tonight, but now with her ridiculous dreams smashed at her feet, the details were needed to fill the void that seemed to have opened inside her soul. She cast her glance toward the front of the house. It was time to go home. Past time, actually.
A loud thud resounded behind her. She gave a startled gasp and jumped two feet. Okay, probably not two feet, but dammit, the noise had startled her. Gunner lifted a keg of beer from the stack of three on the wheeled cart.
"Is that where you've been? Getting fresh kegs?” her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat and observed Bartlett falling asleep in the booth by the door.
"Roger that, and I took out the trash. Why? Was there a problem?" His glance cut through almost deserted pub, instantly tense.
She shook her head. "No. No problem. I just didn’t realize you’d gone to get beer. I assumed you'd walked that woman to her car."
A puzzled expression splashed across his face. "What woman?"
A.J. gave a bitter laugh. "Right, what woman." She watched headlights turn onto Main Street. The cab pulled up outside, and A.J. moved to wake Bartlett.
Gunner's hand stilled her. "I was serious. What woman?"
"The brunette." She nodded her head toward the table where the woman had pawed possessively at him, and then stepped around Gunner and gathered Bartlett. He swayed but stood on his own which allowed A.J. to grab the can of soda she'd put on the table. It took some gentle guidance, but Bartlett found his way into the back seat of the cab. A.J. handed the driver a twenty and the soda. The cabby honked once as he pulled away from the front of the Walrus, and A.J. gave him a quick wave.
A local police car cruised by and the driver slowed to a stop. The window descended and Gary Herman inquired, "Quiet night tonight, A.J.?"
"Yep, everyone's gone. We're closing up." She enjoyed the novelty of a friendly police officer. Especially after the way her tenure at the Walrus started. Well…at least the entire police force for Half Moon Bay now knew what she looked like—so that was good.
"You and Tessa tonight?"
A.J. shook her head. "Tessa called out. I'm with Gunner tonight. Silas's son."
"Tessa's sick?"
A.J. smiled at the concern that was clearly displayed across the young officer's face. "Yeah, she thinks she has that stomach flu that has been going around."
Gary nodded. "You need me to wait and take you to your car?"
"No, thanks, Gunner will be here to walk me out."
"Alright. Night A.J."
"Night." She smiled at the budding romance and wondered if she'd ever be so lucky. Tessa and that young officer were a cute couple. She waited until the patrol car turned off the main road before she headed into the silent bar. Out of habit she threw the deadbolt, set the alarm and turned off the open sign before she made her way back behind the bar. The kegs had been changed out, and the dolly carrying them was no longer behind the bar.
The slam of the storage room door confirmed Gunner had taken the empties back to await the manufacturer's retrieval. She grabbed the bleach water pail and started wiping down the front of the house. She heard Gunner sweeping as she scrubbed down the tables and chairs. After she thoroughly cleaned each chair, she lifted them seat down on top of the tables. When she was done, she went to the storage closet and filled the mop bucket. The same one she'd used to drown Gunner that horrible morning weeks ago. Concentrating on the steady stream of water flowing into the pail she let herself relive that humiliation.
"We need to talk."
Startled, she spun, losing control of the bucket. It fell to the floor and tipped sending at least two gallons of water over her feet and his. She screeched, "Don't do that!"
Gunner stood with his arms out from his sides staring at his soaked boots. Her gut dropped, and if there was ever a time in her life when she wished the ground would part and swallow her from sight, this was it. Instead, she apologized, again. "I'm sorry. God, I didn't mean to do that." She might have whined that last comment.
She reached down in an attempt to snatch the bucket. Unfortunately, it coincided with Gunner doing the same thing. Shooting pain stabbed her head at the same time as the echo of the collision radiated through her brain. She hissed and grabbed her head.
"Fuck!"
His roar echoed her thoughts. A.J. dropped to her butt. The wet floor be damned.
"Are you all right? Hey, look at me."
A.J. shook her head, keeping her hands pressed firmly over the knot that was forming on the top of her head.
"Come on, sweetheart. I need to take a look at your eyes and make sure you don't have a concussion.”
"Stop. Just stop that, okay?" She yelled the words with her eyes clenched
shut. Tears of frustration and pain pushed through her lashes.
"I'm not doing anything." His voice was soft and full of concern. His warm arm pressed into hers as he sat on the floor beside her.
She couldn't do this. A.J. opened her eyes and blinked bringing him into focus. "Stop calling me babe and sweetheart. It isn't fair. You can't flirt with me and then go out with other women. I'm not that kind of person. Just go. Leave me alone. I'll clean this up. I just can't play that kind of game." She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands.
"Hey, come here." His words no sooner registered than she was slid up onto his lap. She tensed in his hold. He pulled her into his chest until he rested his chin over her head.
“I’m wet, I’ll ruin your jeans.” She was soaked actually and tired and upset and just…over it.
"Hmmm…it would seem that I’m wet too. Sitting in mop water tends to do that, but I have a change of clothes in Dad’s office, so stop worrying about me. I told you we needed to talk. I did not walk that woman out to her car. I didn't want to. Was the invitation there? Oh hell yes, but she isn't who I want to go home with." His chest rumbled under her ear as he spoke.
A.J. sniffed and wiped her cheeks. "I'm sure you have your pick of the line-up." She tried to move away from him, but he wrapped his arms around her and prevented her from leaving.
"You're probably right, but that doesn't matter. The only person I'm interested in is currently sitting on my lap in a room flooded with soapy water."
A.J. tipped her head back and he moved so their eyes could meet. "Me?" Her voice sounded small and unsure even to her own ears.
Hot SEAL, Single Malt (SEALs in Paradise Book 9) Page 5