“Just a piece of paper,” he said, falling right into their
usual argument. “And don’t give me the ‘We’re just here to have a girls’ night
out’. I’ve seen you leave with guys before. Hell, sometimes you just leave with
one.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Ariel had to swallow the urge to vomit. “You
ladies are into the sharing thing, aren’t you?”
Pass.
“Really, we go through this every time. It’s not going to
happen,” Ariel said, trying to keep the bite out of her tone. He was an idiot
and a cheater, but she didn’t want to be rude or unnecessarily mean. Once more
she glanced around to see if any servers had a moment to run interference. No
such luck. She slipped away from his grabbing hand by making a show of standing
up next to her chair.
Mary Ellen, less concerned about being rude and more
concerned about losing valuable prowling time, said, “Mark, honestly. Stop
coming over here. It’s never going to happen. There will never be a Mark
Sandwich, or a Mark Taco, or a Mark Pita. Get over it.”
Mark’s eyes, which had a bedroom, hooded look before
narrowed into anger. “You can’t be serious. You walk out of here all the time
with all manner of boys and you won’t give a real man a go?”
“If they want a real man, they probably wouldn’t want you.”
Ariel looked to her left, surprised to see their savior was
not a Home Stretch employee but another patron.
His black hair was buzzed short on the sides, tapering up
into a military-style haircut. He wore a slightly wrinkled button-down shirt
with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. He wasn’t a large man, almost eye
level with her in her heels, and his shoulders weren’t particularly broad. But
what he lacked in physical stature, he made up in sheer presence. His face was
one step from pissed and his arms were crossed in a don’t-fuck-with-me manner.
“Not your concern, son,” Mark said, trying once more to get
an arm around Ariel. She sidestepped, bringing her closer to the stranger’s
side.
Better the devil you don’t know, at least in this situation
.
She noticed Mary Ellen had risen and was inching around the
table toward their unnamed knight in shining Banana Republic.
“When a woman says no and a male doesn’t respect it, it’s my
concern,” he said mildly, a direct contrast to his fight-ready stance. “Are you
finished here?”
Mark’s eyes narrowed farther and his hand gripped the top of
the chair she’d vacated so hard his knuckles turned white. “When someone sticks
their nose in where it doesn’t belong, we handle that with an ass-kicking.”
Although Ariel appreciated the intervention, she didn’t want
the situation turning into a bar brawl. But before she could say a word, their
unnamed hero stepped forward, lowering his voice so his words didn’t carry past
the table.
“Listen up. They don’t want you, and they may not want me
either. But the fact is, you’re hassling them and I’ll do something about it if
it comes to that. I’ve got ten years in the Corps behind me and a black belt as
well. Do you really want this to turn into a cage match? Because I guarantee
you, you’ll go home bloody and have to explain that to your wife.”
Obviously the realistic odds that he would have the crap
beat out of him started sinking in and Mark backed up. He glared first at Mary
Ellen, then at Ariel before muttering, “Wouldn’t have been worth it,” and
stalked off toward the bar.
“Ellen. Nice to meet you, White Knight.” She stuck out her
hand, giving him the name she always gave men in bars, following her
never-too-safe plan. Their mystery man shook her hand and she kept hold of it
while nudging his shoulders her way. “This is my friend Mackenzie.”
Ariel had to bite back a smile. Mackenzie was her middle
name. She wasn’t as cautious as Mary Ellen, but she went along with the rules
to make her friend feel better.
Mary Ellen released the man’s hand long enough for Ariel to
shake it. Strong grip, which she appreciated. He wouldn’t be treating her like
a wilting flower. “Thank you. Mark’s been bothersome before, but usually leaves
before embarrassing anyone.”
“Not a problem.” He flashed her a smile, white teeth against
tanned skin. “Never fails to piss me off when a man can’t respect the word
‘no’. Either he hasn’t heard it enough, or he’s heard it too much.” With a wry
glance over his shoulder toward the bar, he added, “I’m guessing the married
guy’s heard it too much.”
Mary Ellen laughed and tugged on the man’s upper arm, urging
him to take one of their empty chairs. When they were all seated, Mary Ellen said,
“We didn’t get your name. And we can’t keep calling you White Knight.”
“Call me Goodwin. Not that I mind the nickname. But it could
get old,” he said with a smile. “You ladies need another round? Or am I
breaking in on some girl time?”
“Nope, not breaking in at all. I know I’d like another
round. How about you, Mackenzie?” Mary Ellen raised a brow and Ariel knew it
was not-so-subtle code for “Is this one worth keeping?”
She took a quick peek at Goodwin out the corner of her eye.
Handsome, probably in his late twenties, though he had a sort of boyish quality
that could make him appear twenty-one for years to come. And he seemed to have
serious eyes for Mary Ellen. He wasn’t exactly Ariel’s type, someone she’d
pursue, preferring taller men with lighter hair. But he was good-looking, nice
and had come to their rescue in a time of need.
All in all, excellent qualities for a night of scratching an
itch.
She nodded to Mary Ellen. “Yeah, I could use another beer.”
Goodwin caught the eye of a server, pointed to Mary Ellen’s
beer then held up three fingers. The server nodded in understanding, leaving to
fill their order.
“Where were you ten minutes ago?” Ariel mumbled, then shook
her head when the other two turned to stare at her curiously. “Nothing. So you
said something about the Corps?”
Goodwin grinned easily. He had a good mouth for smiling.
Even when he wasn’t smiling, the corners of his lips turned up slightly, like
one was hovering, just waiting for an excuse to come out. “Ten years now, and
going strong.”
“Must be rough, especially now. We keep hearing how everyone
deploys too much, too often,” Mary Ellen said, taking a large swig of the new
beer the server had slipped in front of her. “I can’t imagine.”
“It can be rough.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But let’s not
go there. No need to depress two beautiful ladies gracing me with their
presence.” He chuckled, then said, “I was about to ask if you guys came here
often, but I realized that was a cliché, even though I really was curious.”
“We like it,” Ariel said. “Nine times out of ten it’s a
great place to relax. Are you here visiting friends? There aren’t any Marine
bases in the area that I know of.”
“Just visiting. I’ve never been to Philly myself. I walked
here from the hotel for an after-flight beer.”
“Only in town for a bit then?” Mary Ellen asked, shooting
Ariel a glance.
“Yup. ‘Bout a week or so, I guess. We’re on post-deployment
leave so we’re limited in our time here.”
“Well, in that case, maybe you’d want someone to show you a
decent first night. A native of the area.” Mary Ellen gave him a look even an
idiot could figure out. And from the smile creeping onto his face, he was no
idiot.
“Now that’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time,” Goodwin
agreed, setting down his empty bottle and making some hand signal that had the
server cashing them out in no time. Though Mary Ellen grabbed for the bill,
Goodwin snatched it away and paid the tab, including tip.
Ariel realized it was the now-or-never moment. She could
pretend to not be listening, let Mary Ellen keep Goodwin for herself and stay
on call if she needed help. Then her phone beeped in her bag and she reached
for it on instinct.
Chairs scraping back on the concrete floor made her look up,
hand hovering over the bag’s clasp. Goodwin’s lips were curved in an easy,
unassuming smile, but Mary Ellen’s look was more direct. It clearly said,
What
the hell are you doing? Let’s go!
Ariel stood, deliberately not opening her bag, but tucking
it under her arm instead. “So, Goodwin, would two natives be better than one?”
That easy, noncommittal smile spread into a welcoming grin.
“Two is always better than one.” Then he held out an arm for each of them and
led them out of the bar and into the cooler night air.
Chapter Three
A loud knock on the door woke Trav up from his dreamless
sleep. In forced habit, he woke with a start, jerking out of bed and onto his
feet before he could blink twice. The ability to wake up in an instant wasn’t
just a skill in combat, sometimes it was a lifesaver. He grabbed the cell off
the nightstand and glanced at the screen on autopilot.
No new messages. Again.
So Ariel was busy. All right, no biggie. He could do this on
his own. Granted his sister was four years younger than he was, but he could
think like a twenty-four-year-old. Couldn’t be too hard.
But why wasn’t Ariel responding?
More pounding on the door reminded him of why he woke up,
then Pete’s voice called, “Seriously, you want to get out here.”
Knowing Pete, that could mean anything from wanting to show
off the girl he picked up in a bar—under the pretext of introducing an old
friend, of course—to needing to borrow twenty bucks to pay for a pizza. There
was no point in ignoring the summons, since he knew his friend would just
continue knocking until he answered.
But when he pulled open the door, it wasn’t a pizza delivery
guy. Pete stood in the hallway between their rooms, a pretty redhead attached
to his side. She barely reached Pete’s shoulder, even wearing heels. Travis
propped a shoulder against the door frame, vaguely amused and definitely
curious. Had Pete found a woman all right with sharing for the night? The idea
sent a vague stirring of interest through his cock. “Good evening, Goodwin.”
“Donovan, this is Ellen. We met at the bar down the street.
The Home Run. Ellen, meet my buddy here, Donovan.”
“The Home Stretch,” she corrected, then held out a hand to
Travis. “Nice to meet you.” For a teeny thing, her grip was firm and her voice
was solid. No breathy wisp of a voice, no sissy limp-fish handshake. He knew
right away she was no barfly or some weird groupie with a military fetish.
Shocking, really, how many of those were out there.
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, then
crossed his arms over his chest. There was never any good way to ask the
all-important question of “Do you mind being with two guys at once?” without
feeling like an idiot, so he simply waited for Pete to bring it up. When in
doubt, let someone else do the dirty work.
If not, he could handle another
night with his hand and some delusional fantasy about a woman named Ariel who
might or might not exist.
Before Pete or his newest conquest could say a word, Pete’s
door opened behind them. He glanced up and froze, unable to do anything but
stare.
A leggy brunette stood in the half-open doorway wearing a
button-down men’s shirt and nothing else. In her bare feet she was almost as
tall as Pete. Her chestnut hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders, the
ends curling where her breasts rounded out the front of the shirt. He wanted to
reach out and flick a finger down the row, popping one after another through
the hole until the shirt hung open, framing her body.
Where his body had tingled with the possibility of interest
before, it was on high alert now. Blood rushed, making a beeline south of his
belt buckle, and his tongue felt too thick to speak around.
“Hey,” she said, looking first at the two in the hall. “I
thought you guys were right behind me. Did I get ditched?” Her voice was sweet
and soft, like she was trying not to interrupt or draw too much attention to
herself.
Like that was even possible.
Trav opened his mouth to say hello, ask for her name, see if
she was busy the rest of the week. Nothing came out but some squeaking noise
from the back of his throat. But it was enough for the brunette to glance his
way. Her sleepy-looking eyes widened slightly and she stepped partially back
into the shadow of the room, shielding her body from his view but keeping her
face visible.
Pete gave him a strange look, then flashed her a smile. “I
know I said I could handle both of you ladies, but I thought I’d see if you
wouldn’t mind a buddy hopping in. My best friend here, Donovan. Who is usually
more articulate than this,” he added, throwing another
What the hell is
wrong with you
look his way. “But if you want to keep the party to three, I
won’t complain.”
“I don’t mind,” Ellen chimed in almost immediately, her left
hand sliding down Pete’s abs before hooking a thumb in the waistband of his
jeans. Apparently she didn’t much mind because she already picked out her focus
for the night.