Loch and Key: McLaughlins, Book 3

by Shelli Stevens

  The front door swung open and they both glanced back to see Ian strolling out.

  “Dinner’s about ready, you gals coming?”

  “I’m hungry enough to eat my arm off, so aye, I’m coming.” She nudged her brother in the side. “Took you long enough.”

  Ducking under him before he could get her in a headlock, she slipped past him and down the stairs of the porch. She glanced back with a laugh, but it faded. Ian had already changed his course and helped his pregnant wife to her feet, planting a tender kiss on Sarah’s lips.

  Feeling a bit intrusive on the tender moment, she turned her attention away and sought out her niece to let her know it was time to come to dinner.

  “What are you having next, Chief? This one’s on me.”

  Brett grimaced and set down his now empty pint. If he had a next one he’d be getting a little too close to being buzzed. Something he prided himself on was always being sober around his sailors. Even if a good amount of them were considered friends, he still had an image to uphold.

  Tonight was just going to have to be another missed opportunity to get their chief drunk.

  “I’m good. Thanks, Roberts.”

  “But it’s your birthday, and you don’t turn thirty-five every day, Chief,” one of the guys across the table pointed out. “Come on, one of us can make sure you get home okay.”

  Thirty-five. Hell, how had he gotten so old? Only three years until retirement. It sounded unbelievably close, and yet felt like dozens of years away.

  Even if he’d preferred to hang out at his apartment and catch the baseball game alone, he couldn’t turn down his overeager sailors, most of whom he considered friends, who’d insisted on buying him dinner and beers. Well, two beers. He was cutting himself off.

  “I’m switching to water. Thanks, though.”

  The table of men grumbled good-naturedly but didn’t slow their drinking. Which was another reason Brett kept his ass sober. Someone needed to keep an eye on these guys and make sure the designated didn’t drink.

  Since they were in a restaurant brewery type place, the designated was the poor nineteen-year-old who was old enough to die for his country but not old enough to have a beer.

  But the boy took it in stride, keeping up with the conversation and seeming to enjoy every moment of the evening. Besides, Brett didn’t doubt for one moment the young sailor found ways to drink outside of the bar situation.

  “Holy shit. It’s Petersburg,” one of the guys muttered.

  “Petersburg?” Brett searched his memory, and came up with the sailor who’d discharged honorably out of the Navy last year.

  A quick glance behind him showed the familiar guy standing at the hostess area of the crowded restaurant. Same features, except he’d grown his hair out long.

  “He’ll be waiting a while for a table with that other party over there taking up half the restaurant,” Roberts pointed out. “We got room here since a couple of our guys took off. You all cool if I invite him to chill with us?”

  “No problem at all,” Brett drawled and pushed his beer aside to reach for the water. It’d be nice if their food arrived soon.

  “Shit, Petersburg isn’t alone. Do you see who his date it? It’s her. That totally hot chick.”

  “Dude, yeah, isn’t she that hot waitress?”

  Ignoring his sailors’ discussion about Petersburg’s apparently hot date, Brett just shook his head.

  “Yeah, the one from McLaughlin’s Pub.”

  Wait, what? That caught his attention. Swiveling in his chair he slid his narrowed gaze beyond Petersburg. He hadn’t seen her at first because she’d been standing directly behind him, but now that the former sailor was heading their way, she was following and in no way hidden anymore.

  Fuck. It was Kenzie.

  “I’d nail that ass so hard.”

  Without looking away from Kenzie he couldn’t tell which of his sailors said it, but Brett slapped the table in the nonverbal command to shut it.

  God, he couldn’t argue with the statement, though. Kenzie looked sexy as all hell.

  She wore a black dress that somehow managed to be sexy and modest as it hugged her every luscious curve. Her hair was down, looking extra shiny, and she was wearing makeup. There was no doubt in Brett’s mind that the two were on a date.

  Especially from the you’ve got to be shitting me look on her face as she followed Petersburg to a table full of men.

  Several emotions slammed into him at once. Raw desire. Eagerness at seeing her again, and, most of all, guilt. Fuck, the guilt consumed the other two in a fiery rush.

  Whatever rage she directed his way, he would take it. Hell, he deserved it.

  She hadn’t seen him yet, that much was clear. He had to wonder if she’d make some kind of scene when she did. Though Kenzie hadn’t given off the drama vibe the night they’d gone out.

  Being a man who met conflict head on, he didn’t even entertain the idea of trying to sneak off before she saw him. Instead he turned back in his seat, stretched his legs out under the table and stared straight across the table and kept his back to her.

  Shit would hit the fan, or…fuck. They’d soon find out.

  This guy had to be fuckin’ kidding. This was a first date. A bloody first date and he was going to squeeze them into a table full of random men she didn’t know?

  This was beginning to feel like a plot from some bad porno. Especially the way the first man had looked her over like she was the entrée at dinner. Next she’d learn the whole lot were construction workers or Navy men or something. Any minute now she expected to hear stripper music or some shite.

  Kenzie’s jaw ached from how tightly she clenched it and, for a moment, she debated turning on her completely impractical and painfully pretty heels and walking right back out the door.

  Unfortunately, she’d chosen tonight to be the first time in a while that she’d allowed her date to pick her up.

  Though, hmm, she could always call Aleck. Then again that wouldn’t turn out well. He’d lecture her for having the gall to try and date at nearly thirty, and threaten—again—to lock her up.

  Folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin to salvage pride, she approached the table of men with the same indifference she did when taking an order.

  She slid a glance around the table of six men and bit back a groan. In fact, fuck it all, some of these men were regulars at the pub.

  “Thanks for letting us crash your dinner, guys.” Carl grinned, shaking hands with the men who stood up to greet them. “This is Kenzie, by the way,” he said to the guys. “Kenzie, I used to serve with these guys in the Navy before I got out to take care of my son.”

  Oh shite, they literally were Navy men.

  The introductions came next. Fast and furious, and she knew she’d never remember names—especially as they were last names only. She didn’t miss the heated glances and big smiles that screamed jackpot as they checked her out.

  “And then this here is Chief Craven. Probably the best guy you could pick to be your superior.”

  Kenzie was so caught up in the introductions that she hadn’t paid much attention to the man sitting with his back to them.

  He turned in his chair and the world around her spun.

  Chapter Five

  The man wasn’t just any sailor, but him. Brett. Her date from seven months ago who’d gone AWOL. Her date whom apparently was a chief in the Navy. Even as a civilian, she knew that was a big deal. Just as rapidly as the shock at seeing him set in, it faded. She was good at landing on her feet.

  Drawing in a quick breath, she did the same thing she’d done to the other sailors. She thrust out her hand and shook his. Keeping her expression blank, she murmured, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Craven.”

  Don’t look him in the eyes.

  Despite her vow not to, she slid her gaze up from his broad chest, only to quickly make eye contact.

  A mistake. There was a flash of surprise there—as if he were shocked she hadn�
�t smashed him over the head with a glass, before his expression became a mask of politeness.

  “Nice to meet you as well, Kenzie.”

  The bastard didn’t even have the balls to call her out on her pretense that they didn’t know each other. She’d expected a clever remark like “we’ve already met” or something. But then that would make him the type of man who dealt with his problems.

  And that’s what she was to him. A big old awkward problem who was about to plant herself firmly at his table.

  “Have a seat. We’ve got plenty of room.” Brett gestured to the two empty spots, not next to each other, of course.

  This was turning out to be a piss poor date.

  At the last moment, two of the sailors jumped up from their seats to switch and give her and Carl seats next to one another. Though she wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing, because right now he wasn’t winning any points with her. Not to mention the switch put her directly across from Brett.

  She hardly expected him to play footsies, but if he so much as tried anything he’d better be prepared to receive a foot in the balls.

  Menus were passed their way as someone admitted the rest of the guys had already ordered. In no time there was a beer in front of them as conversation flowed.

  Or rather, conversation flowed between the sailors, while she remained mostly silent. They made half-arsed attempts to include her, but it was clear the group hadn’t seen each other in a while and were excited to catch up.

  She snuck a glance over her menu at Brett, cursing her luck that while she was on her second date of the year, Brett—her first date of the year—was right across from her.

  He cradled a beer in his large hand, almost lounging in the wooden backed chair. His position managed to be lazy and predatory at once.

  She lifted her gaze higher, for a moment, and found those pale blue eyes watching her. His gaze was narrowed and heated.

  Anger flashed through her and her lips tightened. He had no right to watch her this way—as if he were regretting standing her up. As if he were thinking about what she’d look like naked. He’d made a choice to walk away, so let the arse stew in his regret.

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her beer, arching a brow at him as she took a slow sip. Hopefully he could hear every blistering curse she was blasting him with in her head. Or at least imagine them.

  His lips twitched into a grimace and he glanced away.

  Aye, he knew.

  The waitress arrived, and Kenzie put in an order for the fried pickles.

  “Hey, you sure you want to get that?”

  For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard right, but sure enough, as she cast her date a disbelieving glance, she found him watching her with a critical frown.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The fried pickles.” Carl leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Look, you’ve been doing great with those ab workouts, you don’t want to blow it for five minutes of greasy food that you’ll regret.”

  Her face flushed with a stain of anger and embarrassment. This wanker had just called out her food choice at a table full of men. While they were on a first date. Clearly he wasn’t gunning for a second one.

  “I won’t regret it. I’ll work out another hour at the gym if I have to.” She glanced around the table. “Or does anyone else feel I have some problem areas I should be working on?”

  “Hell no,” one guy chortled.

  “You just keep doing whatever you’re doing,” the guy next to Brett muttered. “You’re fucking hot.”

  In an instant Brett had smacked the guy lightly in the back of the head.

  “Have some respect.”

  The sailor blushed. “Sorry, Chief.”

  “It’s not me you need to apologize to.”

  “Sorry, Kenzie.”

  Most of them were drunk, she realized. The beer had kept coming, pint after pint. “It’s all right. It’s probably my fault for asking such a ridiculous question.”

  “Well, it followed an asinine comment,” Brett murmured, casting a hard glance at Carl.

  There was one thing they could agree on right now, but Carl didn’t notice Brett’s death glare because he was ordering another beer from the waitress.

  Shite. She really ought to cut her losses and simply text one of the girls for a ride home, but there was food on the way and her beer to finish. No doubt about it, she would finish the beer because she’d sure as hell need it to get through this night.

  An hour passed with more beer and food devoured. She’d picked at her own order, all too aware of Brett’s heavy gaze on her most of the evening.

  She’d felt the heat in it and was a bit shocked by the way her body responded. The heat that flowed through her veins and the quickening thud of her heart.

  Why did it have to be him that affected her? After all this time of being numb to any kind of feminine reaction to a man. She had to get her knickers twisted over the one guy who’d made it painfully clear he didn’t want to get involved with her.

  Even if the way he watched her now clearly spoke otherwise. Had the others noticed the way Brett was watching her? Wouldn’t they find it strange?

  Then again, did it really matter? Once she left here tonight she had no intention of seeing any of them again. Though the gym bit might be difficult with Carl. Time to switch gyms. Oh hell, she hated working out, she may as well quit.

  She cast Carl a sideways glance and sighed. Her date was now completely piss drunk. Fuck it all, but she would have no choice but to call someone to give her a lift. There was no way she was climbing into a car with an intoxicated driver.

  While the bill was settled, Kenzie sent a text to Hailey, hoping her future sister-in-law was still awake.

  Minutes ticked by and no reply came. Her heart sank.

  “You ready to go?” Carl’s words were slurred as he pushed back his chair and reached for her hand.

  “I’ll be taking her home.”

  Holy date hijacker, what? Kenzie swung her gaze toward Brett. What was he trying to pull?

  She just barely managed to keep her tone polite. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

  “Perhaps it’s not, but I insist.”

  “Insist all you want, I’ll get my own bloody ride.” Unable to control her temper any longer after such a shite evening, she shoved back her chair and stormed off to the bathroom to call Hailey.

  Brett watched her stride off away from the table, her hips swinging as she walked in those tiny heels. She was furious, and wonderfully sexy at it.

  The pure male response slammed through him in a wash of desire that made his blood pound and his dick take notice. His awareness of her had been simmering all night and was damn near the boiling point.

  It was more than her beauty. She had so much attitude and confidence. That confidence and somewhat lack of filter on her thoughts drew him to her even more.

  He laid down some bills for the check, making sure he paid for Kenzie’s dinner as well, seeing that her date had screwed that up.

  Glancing at the sailor who’d been deemed designated driver, Brett asked, “You’ll be able to take Carl home too?”

  “Sure, Chief, not a problem.”

  Confusion flashed across Carl’s face. “Hey, wait a minute, that’s my date. You’re not really going to take her home are you?”

  “If she can’t find a ride from someone else, then yes.” And he was hoping like hell she didn’t, because the thought of her walking out that door and out of his life again made his chest tighten almost painfully.

  He pushed back his chair, said good-bye to the group and made his way to the front of the restaurant.

  Kenzie had disappeared into the bathroom, and he waited in the hall for her to reappear. When she finally did, she looked ticked off to the max. When she saw him her scowl deepened and her mouth compressed.

  “You find a ride?” he asked quietly.

  She lifted her chin and gave him a cool look. “I’ll fi
nd one. Don’t worry about it.”

  “It’s in my nature to worry. Let me drive you home. You’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t doubt that, I simply don’t much like you, Brett,” she said bluntly. “I would rather ride on the back of an arthritic porcupine than drive home with you.”

  “Arthritic porcupine?” He blinked. “Slow and painful? Is that what you were going for in that statement?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  Her quirky sense of humor. Another check under reasons he was attracted to her.

  “My truck’s out front. How far are you from here?”

  She hesitated, shaking her head. Finally, “Only a few miles.”

  “Let me drive you home.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “It’ll give me a chance to apologize.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she made a tiny sniff of disdain. “Little bit late, don’t you think, Chief?”

  There was no respect in the title, just derision.

  “It’s a lot late, but I’d really appreciate the opportunity regardless.”

  She pressed her lips together and he could see her internal argument. She gave a small, terse nod.

  “Fine. I can’t get ahold of my friends, would rather not call my brothers, and hate spending the money on a cab. Not that you can ever bloody find one around here.”

  He let out a breath of relief, not realizing he’d been holding it. He’d wanted this moment more than he’d imagined.

  By habit, he placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the door. The withering look she shot him had him starting to remove it, until a mocking voice stopped him.

  “I’ll be damned if my Highland hottie doesn’t get around.”

  The tension in Kenzie’s body was instant. He felt her spine stiffen against his fingertips, before she shocked him further by stepping backward, closer to him. As if seeking protection.

  Brett turned to seek out the voice and found a man who looked to be in his early thirties coming down the hall from the bathroom.

  “Arriving with one guy, leaving with another.” The man grinned and took a step forward. “Actually, I’ve got to say, I’m surprised you didn’t take the whole group of men home with you.”