started spilling it all out.
"Gray's dad is the Honorable Phillips from the—what district is it?"
"Fifth," Noah offered. I closed my eyes in resignation. So much for trying to be anonymous. Whatever advantage I'd been trying to achieve through being in entirely different surroundings where no one knew me was lost, but I’d never told Bo and Noah I wanted anonymity so that was on me. I should have went white water rafting in Colorado for a month with a bunch of strangers. I should've packed less gear. I should've avoided that last conversation with my dad. I should’ve turned away from Sam Anderson’s doe eyes. Lots of should haves.
Bo knocked me in the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, it can only go up from here."
"Thanks, man." I gave an obligatory laugh and tried to loosen up.
A few minutes later a rough group of guys showed up. Four of them, varying heights and hair colors, were sporting the same tattooed tough-guy look. They wore sneakers, T-shirts, and chains running from the sagging waistband of their ripped jeans to the wallets stuck in the front pockets. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of bare skin. One of them greeted Adam by knocking his forearm against Adam's forearm twice. Lots of civilians gave the military crap for their uniforms but everyone had a uniform. You only had to look around the table to see it. College kids wore the uniform of lazy carelessness. These newcomers’ clothing, hair, and attitudes all indicated they were in the same tribe. Uniforms were everywhere; discipline, however, was not.
I balanced on my chair lightly and didn't pick up a drink, not wanting to be caught off guard if a fight started. Worse thing about being off base? Not having a weapon at the ready. My trigger finger itched and I scanned the grounds to see what I could use
just in case
.
“There’s no danger here. Ease off Marine,” Noah whispered in my ear. I gave him a rueful smile and settled back. Another chair was brought up and the guy who greeted Adam dropped into it while his friends wandered back into the bar. Our waitress brought out a glass filled to the top with a dark lager. Introductions were made around the table although it was clear that they were for my benefit. Most of the table appeared to have met this Tucker Anderson before.
When I heard his name I tensed up for another reason. Shit, I bet this was Sam’s husband. She had a lot of nerve kissing me in the back hallway when her husband could’ve shown up at anytime.
"How's your dick?" Tucker asked Adam. "You laying off the pussy like I told you to?"
Was Tucker some kind of doctor that'd he be asking about Adam's dick all casual like? The rest of the table wanted to know the answer to the question.
"Thanks for your lack of discretion, buddy." Adam folded his arms and glared at Tucker.
Tucker spread his hands innocently in front of him. "I'm raising your dating capital." To the girls at the table, he announced, "Adam got his dick pierced."
He wasn’t wrong. Almost before he got out the word “pierced” the entire bar tilted toward Adam. Even Bo and Noah's girls leaned toward Adam with interest in their eyes. The questions came fast.
"Did it hurt?"
"What kind?"
"How does it feel?"
And from our waitress, "Are you gonna show us?"
Bo looked at AnnMarie's avid curiosity and groaned. "Oh, sunshine, no. You wouldn't do that to little Bo, now would you?"
AnnMarie nestled back in Bo's arms and giggled. "Nah, only because you're not so little." That was exactly the right line to deliver and Bo laid a kiss on her that raised the temperature of the group about five degrees. My two boys settling down made me feel strange inside, a little empty. It was an unwelcome feeling and I drank the rest of my bottle trying to drown it.
Tucker abandoned Adam to target Finn next. "Thanks for sending your girlfriend's sister by. She's working out great."
"She's my ex, but thanks. Winter's very talented." Finn's voice held an odd oppressive note, like he didn't want
"Gray's dad is the Honorable Phillips from the—what district is it?"
"Fifth," Noah offered. I closed my eyes in resignation. So much for trying to be anonymous. Whatever advantage I'd been trying to achieve through being in entirely different surroundings where no one knew me was lost, but I’d never told Bo and Noah I wanted anonymity so that was on me. I should have went white water rafting in Colorado for a month with a bunch of strangers. I should've packed less gear. I should've avoided that last conversation with my dad. I should’ve turned away from Sam Anderson’s doe eyes. Lots of should haves.
Bo knocked me in the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, it can only go up from here."
"Thanks, man." I gave an obligatory laugh and tried to loosen up.
A few minutes later a rough group of guys showed up. Four of them, varying heights and hair colors, were sporting the same tattooed tough-guy look. They wore sneakers, T-shirts, and chains running from the sagging waistband of their ripped jeans to the wallets stuck in the front pockets. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of bare skin. One of them greeted Adam by knocking his forearm against Adam's forearm twice. Lots of civilians gave the military crap for their uniforms but everyone had a uniform. You only had to look around the table to see it. College kids wore the uniform of lazy carelessness. These newcomers’ clothing, hair, and attitudes all indicated they were in the same tribe. Uniforms were everywhere; discipline, however, was not.
I balanced on my chair lightly and didn't pick up a drink, not wanting to be caught off guard if a fight started. Worse thing about being off base? Not having a weapon at the ready. My trigger finger itched and I scanned the grounds to see what I could use
just in case
.
“There’s no danger here. Ease off Marine,” Noah whispered in my ear. I gave him a rueful smile and settled back. Another chair was brought up and the guy who greeted Adam dropped into it while his friends wandered back into the bar. Our waitress brought out a glass filled to the top with a dark lager. Introductions were made around the table although it was clear that they were for my benefit. Most of the table appeared to have met this Tucker Anderson before.
When I heard his name I tensed up for another reason. Shit, I bet this was Sam’s husband. She had a lot of nerve kissing me in the back hallway when her husband could’ve shown up at anytime.
"How's your dick?" Tucker asked Adam. "You laying off the pussy like I told you to?"
Was Tucker some kind of doctor that'd he be asking about Adam's dick all casual like? The rest of the table wanted to know the answer to the question.
"Thanks for your lack of discretion, buddy." Adam folded his arms and glared at Tucker.
Tucker spread his hands innocently in front of him. "I'm raising your dating capital." To the girls at the table, he announced, "Adam got his dick pierced."
He wasn’t wrong. Almost before he got out the word “pierced” the entire bar tilted toward Adam. Even Bo and Noah's girls leaned toward Adam with interest in their eyes. The questions came fast.
"Did it hurt?"
"What kind?"
"How does it feel?"
And from our waitress, "Are you gonna show us?"
Bo looked at AnnMarie's avid curiosity and groaned. "Oh, sunshine, no. You wouldn't do that to little Bo, now would you?"
AnnMarie nestled back in Bo's arms and giggled. "Nah, only because you're not so little." That was exactly the right line to deliver and Bo laid a kiss on her that raised the temperature of the group about five degrees. My two boys settling down made me feel strange inside, a little empty. It was an unwelcome feeling and I drank the rest of my bottle trying to drown it.
Tucker abandoned Adam to target Finn next. "Thanks for sending your girlfriend's sister by. She's working out great."
"She's my ex, but thanks. Winter's very talented." Finn's voice held an odd oppressive note, like he didn't want
Similar Books
