Page 35 of Body Shot

Marco laughs. “No shit! You’re losing your magic touch?”

My gut tenses. For some reason, I prefer to take Marco’s bullshit than tell him I was with Hayden. Because Marco and Cade would give me no end of grief if they knew I went back to see her.

“Hey, Beck.”

I turn to see one of our regulars, Jim Dussen, sitting at the bar. “Hey, Dussen. How’s it hanging?”

“Long and loose, and full of juice.”

I grin. “Good to know. Better than short and shriveled.”

Dussen toasts me with his glass of draft. “You got that right.”

Dussen is a Navy vet I met through the Trident Foundation after I left the service. When I told him three former SEALs were opening a bar, Dussen was pretty pumped. He showed up on opening day and regularly since then. He was a one-man promotion machine during the early days, bringing in friends and acquaintances and telling everyone what a great place it is.

“Hey, Dussen, that’s not you parked in my spot out back, is it?”

“Nah. You know I know better’n to drive here.”

“Good man.” Making sure customers don’t drive home drunk is one of the toughest parts of this gig. But since we want to see our customers back here alive tomorrow, we try to be on top of it, and make sure our staff is too.

“So I hear you’re having a dry spell.”

I frown. “What?”

Dussen nods at Marco. “Heard you two talking about not getting laid.”

“Fantastic.” I shoot a glare at Marco. Our behind-the-bar conversation was not supposed to be audible to customers. Especially when it made me look like a loser. “Well, you can’t get laid every day.”

“Ha-ha-ha.” Dussen nods, then looks sad. “So true.”

I bite back a grin. The old guy somehow manages to leave with women more nights than not. We’ve never been exactly sure how that happens.

So it’s no surprise when an auburn-haired woman slips onto the stool next to Dussen and slides him a flirty smile. “Hey.”

“Well, hi there.” Dussen turns to her.

“Don’t mind me,” I say.

“I’ll have a glass of Moscato,” the woman says without looking at me. “Do you have pink?”

I press my lips together. “No, ma’am, sorry, not pink. We do have a very nice Moscato though, from up in Napa Valley. Luscious peach and apricot flavors with a refreshing finish.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Another beer, Dussen?” I ask.

“Sure thing.”

I move away to get their drinks, even though I didn’t intend to work tonight. I came in because I didn’t finish the inventory earlier, instead taking off to go lingerie shopping. And then drop it off. And . . .

Dammit, I’m thinking about Hayden again.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I absently pull it out to glance at it. A text message from Hayden.

The burst of pleasure that shoots through me at seeing her name on the screen is a little disturbing. I read the message.

I just opened the bag from Bisou. Ten pairs of panties! You did not have to do that.

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