by K. Bromberg
She’s even prettier up close.
What’s worse? When she smiles, her entire face lights up, and the emotion in her eyes dances unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
She’s stunning. Her eyes are too big for her face and her lips are fuller than average to offset a button nose . . . but Jesus, it works somehow in the best of ways.
“Hi.” She offers me a confident smile that both unnerves, and sends a thrill shooting down my spine.
“Heels?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a Wednesday night. Most women don’t wear heels in these parts unless it’s Friday or Saturday, so either you’re looking for a man for the night or you’re here for business,” I say, flirting and offering a warm smile.
“And what business is it of yours if I am, in fact, looking for a man?” She lifts her brows.
“Maybe I’m applying for the job.”
Her smile cracks, and Jesus fucking Christ, I’m stunned. Something about her smile brings so much warmth to her eyes and an approachability that . . .
“Maybe I’m turning you down.” Her eyes flutter up to meet mine, and they don’t match a thing her words are saying.
I thump a fist to my chest. “I’m wounded.”
“You should be. I’m a good catch.”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head, my eyes never leaving the dark blue of hers. I’m rarely taken with a woman. Looks are a plus—and she’s definitely got them—but I reserve my attraction until I know if a woman can make me laugh. A bad sense of humor is a deal-breaker for me.
And a good comeback like that only adds to her allure.
Nixon snickers to my right but I ignore him. I’m sure he’s taking too much pleasure in seeing me get schooled at the moment.
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” I murmur. She licks her lips and if she didn’t already have my attention, she sure has it now. “And yet, here you are.”
“And yet, here I am,” she says and rests her hands on the bar top. No ring on her finger. I can definitely appreciate that.
I nod, her statement telling me she’s most definitely not from around these parts. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You call me ma’am, and I’m going to turn around and look to see if my grandma’s here.”
“Well, if you’re staying in these parts long, you’ll need to get used to being called ma’am every now and again,” I say. “Now, how may I help you?”
“Thirsty and waiting for my friendly bartender to ask me what it is I’ll have.”
I angle my head to the side and smirk. Her words are quick, but her eyes are slow as they run over my biceps while I wipe down the counter in front of her before looking back at me. “Well, Miss . . .”
“Chase. Chase Kincade,” she says as she extends a hand across the bar top, while I repeat her name in my head.
“People in these parts call me Gunner or Gunny or anything of the sort.” I take her hand in mine and shake it. Of course, I hold on to it a little longer than normal—but it’s not like she pulls her hand away either. “Let me guess. You’re a rum and Coke girl.” Her eyes narrow. “A martini then? Extra dry?”
“Too pretentious.”
“Gin and tonic. Bombay Sapphire.”
She purses her lips and nods. “I’ll take option number three with a twist, please.”
I nod and get to work making her drink for her, but my eyes keep flickering over to her as she casually looks around and offers a smile to Nix, who’s no doubt staring at her.
Then I snap my fingers when it hits me who she is.
“Kincade?” She nods, but I swear to God there’s a small startle in her eyes too. “Are you Duncan Kincade’s little sister? I heard he was having a big blowout to celebrate his retirement. Word around base is that—”
“You’re making me wish the answer was yes, but no, I’m not related.”
“So if you’re not Duncan’s sister, are you just passing through or staying a while or . . .”
“Considering you already had me pegged as a Camo Chaser here looking for a soldier for the night, why don’t you tell me what you think I’m here for?” She laughs.
I slide her drink in front of her, cross my arms over my chest as she takes her first sip, and narrow my eyes. “The possibilities are endless.”
“That’s not an answer,” she says coyly.
“Let me see. You’re in Destiny Falls for a temporary stay because you’re determined to find the man that you were madly in love with. He fell in love with the lion tamer, when you’re more of a tiger kind of girl, and now you want revenge.”
She laughs at my lame attempt at humor and shakes her head. “That would imply that I care about a man who cheated on me. Hate to break it to you, but I wouldn’t. Chasing after a man isn’t my style.”
“No?” I ask, loving how straightforward she is.
“No. My time is too valuable to chase after a man who’s not smart enough to see me for what I’m worth in the first place.”
I emit a long, low whistle and follow it with a smile. “Your confidence is quite becoming.”
And it is. A woman who knows what she wants is fucking hot.
Her cheeks flush, and I like that a compliment does that to her. That means she’s not so used to them she’s immune to them.
“My confidence is off-putting to a lot of men.”
“Not this man,” I say and walk over to take care of some other customers. The whole time I’m making their drinks, I’m thinking about the woman at the other end of the bar. Of her incredible smile, warm eyes, and sexy confidence.
And I know without a doubt I’ll be asking her out before the night is over.
I hand over the drink order to Aubrey, my waitress, and then walk back toward where Chase is sitting, laughing at something Nixon’s said.
“You’re back,” she says. “Nix was just telling me here—”
“Let’s hope Nix wasn’t telling you anything about me because he has a hell of a lot of dirt he can dish.”
“Nothing bad at all. He’s a good wingman.” She winks at Nix and now, of course, I want to know what they were saying.
“I figured out why you’re here and who you are,” I say to get her attention back to where I want it—on me.
“I told you my name so you know who I am,” she says and laughs. “But please, I’m curious.”
“Chase Kincade is an alias. You’re really a huge pop star who needs a break from the crazy crowds and stalkerish press, so you’ve decided to come to Destiny Falls during festival season for a little reprieve.”
“Festival season?” she asks.
“There’s at least one every weekend this time of year. There’s the Strawberry Festival, the Wine Festival, the Destiny Falls Town Fair. Then there’s the Beer Festival, Summer Fest . . . I could go on and on.”
“Good to know I stopped in a town where I can get lost in the crowd.”
“You have good instincts.”
“Apparently,” she murmurs moments before her lips wrap around the tiny straw in her drink and steal my attention again.
“So, Gunner, if I’m a ridiculously famous pop star, what’s my hit song?”
And that’s a flirt, ladies and gentlemen. A definite flirt. Teeth biting on her straw. Eyes looking up at me beneath fluttered lashes. A soft smile and a continuation of a conversation that she could have let die.
That was definitely a flirt.
I assume my position opposite her, a playful smile on my lips and my hands braced on the counter between us. “You have many popular songs. Gunning for You. Heartbreak Warfare. Battle for Love. But the big one—the one that put you over the top of all the other pop sensations was I Did A Vet and I Liked It,” I say, making a play on a Katy Perry song.
Chase bursts out laughing and even snorts in the process, which is the cutest damn thing. The best part, she isn’t even fazed by it when most women would die of embarrassment.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Gunne
r. That was a good one. Creative. Witty. I love a man who can think on his feet . . . but no dice.”
“No dice?”
“Nope.”
I begin to pour a draft beer for another order Aubrey places—the bar is picking up—and slide a glance over to Chase again. She’s sitting there comfortable as can be in a bar where a lot of men are staring at her.
I like that about her.
Hell, I like a lot about her.
“So, Chase,” I say when I head back her way, “if you’re not in love with a tiger tamer, not a ridiculously famous pop star trying to escape the limelight, why are you here?”
“It’s a bar and I wanted a drink.” She’s coy as she plays with that straw of hers. “That’s it.”
“I was referring to Destiny Falls.”
“I’m doing research,” she says.
“For?”
It’s the first time I’ve seen her hesitate to respond. Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
“My thesis. I’m writing one.”
“On?” I prompt.
“It’s nonfiction,” she states.
“About?” I laugh.
“Deployment and children.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Chase
Gunner stares at me long and hard with those dark brown eyes in a way that makes me feel like he can see straight through the lie I just pulled out of my ass.
Not really my ass.
More like straight from the article I thumbed through in the hotel magazine that was in my room. It talked about the mental and emotional toll deployments took on children of military families.
Gunner kept pushing for an answer. I panicked, giving him the first thing that came to mind.
The upside? I’ll probably never see him again.
The downside? Maybe . . . I want to.
“If that’s what you’re researching, you definitely came to the right town for that,” he says with a strained smile before heading to the other end of the bar where the redheaded server waits with more drink orders for him.
I glance around FU-Bar. It’s dim where it needs to be dim so that people can slink in the shadows if they prefer, and light where it needs to be light, like over by the pool table where a few women are showing off their assets to their dates.
Military mementos are everywhere with each one of the bar’s walls dedicated to a different branch of it. There are flags, pictures, plaques, memorabilia, and more representing someone’s history down the line somewhere.
I have a feeling that within these walls, soldiers, vets, and their families have celebrated as many victories as they have defeats or losses of lives.
The music is low but present, the laughter is loud and frequent, and it seems the man who currently holds my attention is the maestro of all of it with his kind smile and friendly words.
“He really is that good of a guy, you know.”
“What was that?” I ask, turning to my left to face Nix. He’s tall and burly with a dark skin tone that does a good job of camouflaging an array of burn scars I can make out just beneath its surface. His eyes are dark and his smile warm as I meet his eyes.
“Gunny. He really is that good of a guy. We’re talking a true decorated war hero.”
“Is that so?” I murmur and glance over to where Gunner is chatting up his patrons at the other end of the bar.
“Yep. He’s a total badass. Like the kind they hand medals out to during fancy ceremonies with lots of high-ranking people.” His grin is wide and gloating. “So when he asks you out later, you’re going to want to remember that.”
“He’s going to ask me out, is he?” I ask, drinking in Gunner once again. His dark hair, which is a little long over his collar. The cuffs of his black V-neck that are a little tight on his biceps.
I shake my head. He’s so different than most men I find attractive. He’s the furthest thing from sharp-suited-yuppy-looking guys who are always on their iPhone and in between business meetings.
I stare at him a beat longer and wonder what it is about him that won’t let go of me.
It’s more than just his good looks—not that any woman would balk at that chiseled jawline and his broad shoulders—but there’s a magnetic appeal to him. A definite sex appeal. An ease with which he carries himself that says he knows women are noticing but that he doesn’t take it too seriously. That, of course, is part of his charm.
Not to mention his sense of humor. Oh, and his smile too. Jesus, when he smiles it absolutely lights up the room.
You’ll say yes.
You’ll say yes, because you’re smitten with him and your libido is in some desperate need of attention. Attention he can most definitely give.
So I’ll say yes if he asks. I’ll say yes without any shame because there’s something about this unexpected find—him—in this pretty cool bar that makes me want to explore things a bit more.
Besides, how better to find out more about this town—possibly about where Ryan Camden is—than to befriend a local?
And maybe have a bit of fun.
“He is, indeed.” Nix takes a sip of his beer. “Hell, if any more sparks fly between the two of you, this whole bar is going to catch on fire and burn to the ground.”
“I doubt that.”
“Women come in and out of here all the time. Pretty ones. Funny ones. Downright forward ones. He’s rarely fazed by them, but this time around—mmm, mmm, mmm—he’s definitely fazed by you.”
“I—thank you—I guess?” I laugh the last words out as my cheeks heat and my smile widens.
“No need to thank me,” he says and winks. “Just remember that we never had this conversation.”
And the last words clear his lips when Gunner steps up to the counter between us and looks from me to Nix and then back again. “Is he being my wingman again or should I worry he’s telling my deep, dark, sordid secrets?”
“You worried?” I tease.
“Not in the least,” he says, that brilliant smile of his now a bit crooked. “Another?”
I glance down at my empty glass and contemplate whether or not another one will be me overstaying my welcome. “Nah. I think I should head on out. I had a long day and it’s catching up to me.”
I swear Gunner’s expression falls some, and my ego appreciates the sight of it. “So soon?”
I slide some cash across the bar top with a more than generous tip. “Maybe I’ll stop in tomorrow night.”
“Sorry. I won’t be here.”
“Oh?” I hate that I’m disappointed by the mere thought. “Okay.”
“I’ll be taking you out on a date instead.”
“What?” I cough out the word through a laugh.
“Is that going to be a problem?” he asks, his voice low, his smile soft, and his eyes hopeful.
God, he is charming. And good-looking. And . . . “Not at all.”
He nods, his smile turning to a grin. “Good to know. I had to make sure and ask before you’re asked ten more times as you walk out that door.”
“Ten more times?” I ask.
“Maybe five.” He scrunches up his nose. “It’s a slow night so I’m thinking . . . five.”
“And if you’re right?” I lift my eyebrows.
“That’s up for you to decide what my reward is.”
“You like rewards, do you?” I ask coyly.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Our eyes hold, despite someone calling his name. “Meet me at six o’clock tomorrow outside Grandy’s.”
“Grandy’s?”
“You’ll figure it out. See you then.” Gunner winks and emits a chuckle as he heads toward his next customer.
I stare after him as I shake my head.
But he was spot-on. Five times. That’s the number of times I was stopped on my way out of FU-Bar by men giving me half-hearted proposals. They were all in jest but funny nonetheless.
And just as I walked out the door, I looked back to see Gunner smiling at me.
This was not how tonight was su
pposed to go.
The thought is on repeat as I drive back to my hotel, flop back on my bed, and stare at the ceiling.
“So much for going in there with guns blazing,” I note and then chuckle.
Hell, I didn’t even think of Ryan Camden more than once, let alone ask about him. Isn’t that why I’m here?
And to complicate matters more in my little charade? A thesis on deployment and how it affects kids? I told the man I’m going on a date with tomorrow that that was why I was here in Destiny Falls. Now what am I supposed to do when he asks me about said work?
I could be a no-show. That would solve the problem.
But the ridiculously stupid grin on my lips tells me that’s not going to happen.
There’s no way I’m standing him up.
Not a chance.
It’s not just the incredible sex I’ve already predetermined that we’ll have, but more so the fact that he’s going to be my in to finding Ryan Camden.
Then again, maybe it is the sex. Five months is a long time for a dry spell.
Maybe parts of me are already fantasizing about that.
CHAPTER SIX
Chase
“Kelly, it’s so nice to talk to you. It feels like it’s been forever,” I say and lean back against the pillows and headboard at my back, trying not to disturb the stacks of papers all around me on my makeshift desk—the hotel bed.
“It has. I think the last time we all saw each other was when your dad invited me to hang out at the Super Bowl two years back,” he says, the warmth in his voice flooding through the phone.
“Has it been that long?”
“I believe so,” our longtime family friend says. “What can I do for you, kiddo?”
“I need you to find someone for me.”
He chuckles. “Poor bastard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I laugh.
“If you’re looking to find someone, that means he’s wronged you and”—he whistles—“I wouldn’t want to be him when you do.”
“I am not that bad.” I’m met with silence and then a chuckle. “Then again . . .”
He joins in with the laugh. “I’m a little backed up at the moment so I won’t get to it for a few days. If you’re okay with that, then—”