by Zoe York
He wasn’t holding his breath. If he stumbled across love, he’d take the leap. In the meantime, he was happy with temporary hook-ups.
But he didn’t like the idea that this woman hadn’t had his full attention the night before. And now that he was thinking too damn much, she wasn’t going to have the good kind of attention this morning, either. He needed to make a quick exit and head home.
He snagged her phone out of her hand. No password. Oh, the innocence. He clicked on her Facebook app. He wouldn’t snoop, he just needed her name. Lila Jovan. And her friend’s name was…didn’t matter. Wrenching his thumb away from the screen, he clicked out of the app instead of scrolling down her list of contacts.
For whatever booze-and-fatigue-induced reasons, he’d chosen this woman last night and until he said goodbye, she was the only woman who got his attention.
He slid the phone back into her hand. With a sigh, she rolled toward him, then squeaked as her palm slide across his bare abs.
“Hi there,” he said quietly.
She cleared her throat, angling her face away from his. “Hi.”
“I’ve gotta get going, but I didn’t want to sneak out.” Sneaking out was never cool.
“Okay. Thanks for last night.”
“I’m sure the thanks should be all mine.” No hesitation. That was key. Set the tone as polite but finished, and she’d pick up on it. From the way she’d eased away from him, she already had.
Her alarm went off again before she could say anything else, and with a shriek, she leapt out of bed, then dropped out of sight, reappearing wearing a t-shirt from the floor. “I totally slept through my alarm, I’m so sorry. I’ve gotta get to work, but there’s coffee in the kitchen if you want something, and the door automatically locks, so just let yourself out. My roommate is probably here, so make sure you’re wearing pants.”
Jesus, what kind of guys did she normally hook up with if they just wandered around her place with their junk hanging out? At least he didn’t have to worry about her clinging to him like a wannabe girlfriend. He watched her gather some clothes and disappear into the bathroom, but from her frantic pace, he didn’t think he could get up and out before she reappeared.
He didn’t have to be anywhere until the evening, so he lay back and enjoyed the uncommon luxury of relaxing on a girlie bed covered in pillows.
Trick loved pillows, and there were only so many a dude could have on his bed before his buddies started to make fun of him. And since his roommate, Miles, had zero boundaries, he couldn’t even keep a pillow collection private.
Maybe while Miles was overseas he could temporarily indulge…
He frowned.
No. While Miles and the rest of their team were overseas, he’d be concentrating on work. Doing his fucking job, supporting them however he could, and filling in where the other teams needed help.
And just like that, the good post-sex relaxation was gone.
He should be overseas with them. It was his fucking turn in the sandbox. But he wouldn’t be there because he couldn’t fucking sleep and couldn’t keep his stupid blood pressure under control on a medical.
Panic attacks.
The medical staff had talked all the way around PTSD without actually naming it, because he’d made it clear there was no way he’d wear that label. He was fine. Just a bit stressed. And there were ways to deal with that and still function in the job.
So far, his commanding officer was being supportive. One tour staying behind. A training rotation, they were calling it.
Once. He’d get a free pass once. If he didn’t get his head sorted out and his health under control, he knew his days as a Navy SEAL would be numbered.
That wasn’t an acceptable option.
Lila started when she came running out of the bathroom, hair damp, fully dressed in what looked like a waitress uniform. “Oh, you’re still here.”
“I’m going, no worries.”
“Uhm…” She made a face. “Okay.”
“Yeah.”
Fuck him. These random hook-ups had to stop.
He gave her a three-minute head start, and when the apartment sounded safely quiet, he got up, used her private bathroom to freshen up, then finished dressing and went to find his boots, which he vaguely remembered kicking off in the living room.
They weren’t beside or in front of the couch. He leaned over the oversized armchair, wondering if they’d been tossed further than his vague recollection indicated.
From behind him, an unfamiliar female voice cleared her throat, then asked, “Looking for your boots?”
Gaby asked the question gently, but it still sounded abrupt in the quiet of the apartment. She actually hadn’t realized anyone was still here.
The oversized man Lila had brought home the night before—the one with the size thirteen boots she’d tripped over this morning, and the super-fine butt she was trying really hard not to ogle—stood up with unexpected grace and turned around slowly.
“You must be the roommate,” he said as he twisted. His eyebrows pulled together when he got a good look at her. “Oh. Hi.”
“Uhm, hi.” She smiled politely. “And you must be Lila’s date from last night. I put your boots by the door earlier.” Which you can use any time now, because I have marking to do in peace and quiet.
“Thanks.” He glanced in that direction, but he didn’t move. Instead, he looked at her again, frowning this time. “You were at the bar last night.”
She had been, for a while, but when her friends hit the dance floor, she’d come home and gone to bed. Early and alone, as usual. If this guy hadn’t slept with her roommate, she’d appreciate that he’d noticed her. But since he had… “What bar?”
“The Wave.” He frowned again. “I’m sure you were there. Red t-shirt, hair in a ponytail with…” He pointed to the sides of his chiseled face. “Loose bits of hair around your face.”
She could feel her face turning red as she shook her head. “You must be mistaken.”
He stared at her for a second, then nodded. “Okay, my bad. Well, see you around.”
She watched him cover the short distance to the door in a couple of long strides, then shove his boots on his extra-large feet, quickly check his pockets—left front, back right, back left. It looked like an unconscious routine, the way he patted himself for all his valuables. He’d probably left something behind after a one-night stand before and it had become super awkward.
Ugh. She hated the judgemental edge to that thought. And she shouldn’t think about him, or his routines, or anything like that. Spinning on her heel, she practically ran to her room, trying like hell not to listen for the click of the door. Not to think about the strange man with the sharp brown eyes and extra-soft lips her roommate would probably never think about again.
Gaby didn’t begrudge Lila for having fun. If Gaby was smart, she’d stop thinking so damn hard and have more fun herself.
Getting out of her head, though…easier said than done.
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About the Author
Zoe York lives in London, Ontario with her young family. She’s currently chugging Americanos, wiping sticky fingers, and dreaming of heroes in and out of uniform.
www.zoeyork.com
Copyright
Copyright © 2014 Zoe York
All rights reserved.