Hotter Than Ever (Out of Uniform) (4 page)

The second she hung up, the iPhone in her hand started to vibrate. And vibrate. And vibrate some more.

“Oh sweet Jesus, I’m getting like a million text messages,” she muttered.

Dylan glanced over and saw the frustration glimmering in her eyes. “Your mom and dad?”

“Yep, along with my boss, maid of honor, cousins, coworkers.”

“They all have a ton of questions, huh?”

“Duh.” She made a sound of exasperation. “I’m turning it off. This is ridiculous.”

She swiped her finger over the touch screen, then dropped the phone in the cup holder of Dylan’s rental.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she mumbled. “My parents are freaking out.”

“So’s my mom. You’re not the only one with a thousand incoming texts.” He tapped the front pocket of his trousers, where he’d tucked his cell phone. “My leg is going numb from all that vibrating.”

“My mother said the guests are gone, and the catering staff packed everything up. She’s going to take all the food home with her, since it’s already been paid for.” Her voice cracked. “Oh, and my dad won’t let me pay him back.”

Dylan fought a pang of sympathy. He’d never understood why the bride’s family was expected to foot the bill for the wedding. Chris’s boss may have arranged for the venue, but the McKinleys had taken care of everything else—food, flowers, string quartet. Judging by how tasteful and beautiful the ballroom had looked, Dylan suspected financing the shindig had been pretty costly for Claire’s parents. He felt bad for them. They’d seemed like really nice people, and his brother had completely screwed them over by running out on their daughter.

“I guess I should text Chris and let him know which hotel I’ll be—what the hell, Dylan? Where are you taking me?”

That she hadn’t noticed their destination until now spoke volumes about her state of mind. As the airport became visible in the distance, he felt Claire’s amber-colored eyes boring into his cheek.

“Where are we going?” she asked in a tight voice.

“The Coast Guard Air Station.” He flicked the turn signal and changed lanes, then sped off the freeway exit ramp.

“Why on earth are we going there?”

“We’re catching a ride with a buddy of mine. He’s a Coast Guard pilot.”

“A ride? A ride to
where
?”

“I’m taking you back to San Diego with me.”

Silence descended over the interior of the SUV. He snuck a peek at Claire and found her looking at him like he’d just told her he was a closet Backstreet Boys fan or something. The mixture of confusion and horror on her face was almost comical.

He was pretty confused himself. What the hell was he doing taking Claire home with him? He didn’t even like the woman. In fact, for the past year and a half he’d actively been rooting for Chris to come to his senses and dump her.

So really, what he
needed
to do was drop her at a hotel, high-five Chris for seeing the light, and forget Claire McKinley ever existed.

Except…in a complete twist of insanity, his brother had suddenly soared to the top of Dylan’s shit list. After the despicable—not to mention dishonorable—way Chris had behaved, Dylan was firmly on Team Claire in this fucked-up situation.

He couldn’t believe Chris had run away like that. No, he couldn’t
understand
it. As a SEAL, Dylan met challenges head-on, even when those challenges were terrifying or painful or guaranteed to bring some discomfort.

Well, he refused to abandon Claire the way his brother had. He might not be the woman’s biggest fan, but she didn’t deserve to have everyone pitying her, or whispering about her, or worse, laughing behind her back. Since Chris and Claire had all the same friends, and with her one non-mutual friend out of town, Dylan knew she wouldn’t find much of a support system here in the Bay Area.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Claire grumbled. “Take me to a hotel.”

He stayed on route, driving right past three airport hotels, which solicited a string of curses from the woman beside him.

Dylan raised his eyebrows. “Shit, McKinley, you sound like a character from an HBO show. Where the hell did you learn some of those phrases?”

For a second, humor danced in her eyes. “HBO.” The amusement promptly faded. “I’m serious, Dylan, I don’t want to go to San Diego.”

“I really think you should,” he said gently. “At least for a night or two.”

“Oh, you think I should, huh? Because you magically know what’s best for me, is that it?”

“You said so yourself. You need space.” He shrugged. “Well, you ain’t gonna get it here, honey. You’ll be alone at that hotel for an hour, two hours tops, and then your parents will weasel the location out of you and swoop in with the sympathy parade.” When she didn’t answer, he shot her a pointed look. “You know I’m right.”

“Maybe, but—”

“And I know your best friend is in South America—”

“Sierra Leone—”

“—which means you can’t cry on
her
shoulder, so—”

Now she was the one interrupting him. “So you want me to cry on
your
shoulder? No thanks, pal.”

As the gate for the Coast Guard station came into view, Dylan abruptly pulled over to the side of the road.

“What now?” Claire demanded angrily. “Are you kicking me out of the car?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Why would I—” He stopped talking and sucked in a calming breath. How did this woman always manage to rile him up?

He exhaled in a measured pace. “Look, you have three options.”

“Oh really?”

Her mocking tone brought another rush of irritation, which he forced himself to ignore. Hell, she was allowed to be a bitch today. Getting ditched on her wedding day definitely gave her a free pass.

“Option one,” he announced. “You go to a hotel and prepare yourself for the sympathy parade.”

Unhappiness washed over Claire’s face.

“Option two, you go home and get the confrontation with Chris out of the way.”

Her delicate jaw tensed.

“Option three, you hop on the chopper with me, crash at my place for a day or two, and when you feel up to dealing with all this, you come home.”

Your place?

The little voice gave him pause. Shit, technically he ought to be consulting his roommate before he—

Roommate?
the voice interrupted, sarcastic now.

He fought a spark of aggravation. Okay, fine, Aidan Rhodes was much more than a
roommate
.

As Claire sat there in silence, visibly pondering the choices he’d given her, Dylan fished his cell phone out of his pocket.

He’d planned on shooting a discreet text Aidan’s way to let him know they might have some company, but Claire spoke up before he could.

“No. I don’t run away from my problems,” she said firmly. “Maybe that’s yours and Chris’s MO, but not mine.”

His nostrils flared at the accusation. “I don’t know where you’re getting your intel, honey, but I don’t run from my problems. Never have, never will.”

“Either way, I can’t just leave town. I’ll regroup for a couple of hours at the hotel, and then talk to Chris.”

As if on cue, Dylan’s phone buzzed in his hand.

Chris’s number flashed on the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” he told her.

The wounded look in her big brown eyes triggered the urge to pull her into his arms, but he pushed the crazy idea aside. He didn’t blame her for looking so hurt, though—Chris should be calling his bride right now, not his brother.

“What are you waiting for?” she muttered. “Answer it.”

Dylan raised the phone to his ear, but he didn’t greet his brother with even an ounce of warmth. “What do you want?”

There was a pause, followed by a remorseful sigh. “You’re angry.”

“No fucking kidding.”

“Dylan…look, I know you’re pissed at me and I’m so sorry I ran away like that. I took the coward’s way out and I feel like a total ass, okay?”

“No,
not
okay. Nothing you did today was
okay
, Chris.”

Another breath filled the line. “I’m sorry. I really am. And I promise you I’m going to make this right. I’ll make it right with Claire, and with Mom, and the partners, and most of all, you. But first, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

Incredulity lodged in his throat. “Are you serious? After everything that went down today, you have the nerve to ask for another favor?”

Next to him, Claire made a harsh sound of disdain, and a quick glance at the passenger seat revealed she was eyeing him warily. Actually, no, she was eyeing his
phone
. The way she’d curled her hands into fists and pressed them on her thighs told Dylan she was trying to stop herself from grabbing the cell out of his hand.

And speaking of thighs…he couldn’t help but notice that her dress had ridden up, revealing her smooth, pale skin that he couldn’t seem to quit staring at…

Disgusted with himself, he yanked his gaze off those firm thighs, hoping she hadn’t noticed him checking out her legs.

“I just need you to pass along a message,” Chris pleaded in his ear.

“To who?” Dylan said suspiciously.

“Claire.”

He almost blurted out that Claire was sitting right next to him, but he swallowed the confession. He got the feeling Chris might panic and hang up if he knew she was there.

“What’s the message?” he asked in a curt voice.

“Tell her I’m sorry. I know I owe her an explanation and I promise to give her one. Just…not now. Tell her we’ll talk when I get back.”

Dylan’s spine went rigid. “Get back from where?”

“Aruba. I’m leaving for the airport now.”

For the life of him, Dylan couldn’t formulate a single response. As shock and disgust pounded into him, he was tempted to whip his phone out the window just so he wouldn’t have to hear his brother’s voice anymore.

Chris, however, seemed oblivious to the waves of hostility radiating over the line.

“I know it sounds heartless, but the trip’s already been paid for and it’s nonrefundable. Aruba was first on our itinerary, and I’m definitely heading there, but I don’t know yet if I’ll do London and Paris like we’d planned.” A pause. “Claire’s welcome to use her ticket too, I suppose, but I think that would be awkward for the both of us, so I’d recommend she not do that.”

The rage bubbling in Dylan’s gut was so uncharacteristic it caught him by surprise. He didn’t get this angry. Ever. He was usually calm under pressure, cool, collected, in complete fucking control of himself.

But at this very moment, he wanted to murder his own brother.

Straight-up
murder
him.

Releasing a slow breath, he shifted his head so he didn’t have to see Claire’s dark expression in his peripheral vision. “You’re unbelievable,” he hissed into the phone. “Right now, in this moment? I can’t believe we’re even related. I’m so fucking ashamed of you.”

“Hey!”

Chris’s outraged gasp only pissed Dylan off even more. “Don’t worry, I’ll pass your message along, big brother,” he snapped. “And now I’m going to hang up before I say something I might regret.”

Proving he didn’t make idle threats, he punched the
end
button and tossed his phone in the cup holder, where it rattled against Claire’s discarded iPhone.

The anger refused to abate. His vision was a sea of red, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had turned white, but the alternative was punching the damn dashboard, and he wasn’t in the mood to have an airbag deploy in his face. Jesus fucking Christ. This entire day had been a fucking nightmare, and it just kept getting worse and worse.

“What did he say?”

Claire’s cautious voice broke through the haze of fury. For a second he was tempted to lie, but he couldn’t bring himself to cover for his brother. Chris didn’t deserve any clemency, not after everything he’d done.

“He said he’s sorry and he’ll talk to you when he gets back,” Dylan reported through gritted teeth.

She went quiet. Her confused expression soon gave way to horror as understanding dawned. “He’s going on our honeymoon?”

Dylan nodded.

“He’s going on our fucking
honeymoon
?”

Her chest heaved from her labored breathing, drawing his gaze to her ample cleavage. And proving that he had zero decorum, his inner manwhore refused to let him overlook the fact that this woman had great tits. No,
spectacular
tits.

“Oh my God. Who
does
that?” Claire exclaimed. “I can’t believe I was going to marry such an insensitive ass!”

Dylan shifted in discomfort when he noticed the tears filling her eyes. Fortunately, the moisture clinging to her long lashes didn’t spill over. If she started crying, he knew he’d have no choice but to take her in his arms, and he was determined to avoid that. Just because he was helping her out didn’t mean they were best buds or anything.

“Well, on the bright side, your apartment is free,” he said feebly.