Page 29 of Drop Three

Frankly, he’s next-level, smack my ass, and call me daddy hot.

The inferno level of his attractiveness is confirmed the second my eyes find him from across the room, settling in on his tall form mixing drinks behind the bar.

He’s mixing drinks with his eyes on me.

Fascinating.

Hewouldbe working the bar on Grand Opening night.

Ever the leader he is.

Crew Briggs has aged like fine wine. Being a new father has done nothing but favors for him, making him appear confident and seasoned, something I never realized I would find so alluring. Briggs’ dark brown hair is tailored into a neat fade that sculpts evenly with his five o’clock shadow. His style reminds me much of my brother, Callaway, and even Bodhi.

Shit.Saying his name out loud makes my heart sink.

Shut it down, Navy—time to move on.

Callaway and Bodhi have more length at the top, whereas Briggs’ is neatly faded all around. It doesn’t take away from the attractiveness he exudes, though. He’s a giant and deliciously muscular.

I like what I see. I like it a lot.

Signaling to Tenley I’ll be right there, I approach Briggs at the bar and decide to play into his name-calling. “Now you know that name never suited me.”

I lean my tall body against the barstool in front of me as I attempt to egg him on with my humorous tone.

Briggs throws his head back and laughs. “And why is that?”

His teasing is comforting and already makes the work-to-play transition that much easier. Briggs and a few of the other players have always called me sailor. When we were first introduced, they mistakenly thought that Coach Leggins had introduced me as a Navy sailor, as in the military, and not a team reporter.

Joke of the year.

It didn’t take long for them to realize my extreme lack of order and discipline—not very Navy soldier-like.

My brows rise on a giggle. “Because you know damn well I’d never last a full five minutes on a sailboat.”

A full smile lights up his face, accompanied by his deep chuckle that I’ve sincerely missed. “Get over here, girl.”

Briggs waves me over to him from behind the bar, and I find myself running, not caring that we’re in the middle of a restaurant. I run to secure a hug from my friend, who has been a stranger for too long, yet it feels like no time has passed.

My arms find the center of his tall frame as I envelop him in a snug embrace. It’s been ages since I’ve hugged anyone, and it feels good to let myself enjoy it. My lengthy hug is likely the reason for the hollering coming from a customer on the other side of the bar, demanding another round, breaking us apart.

I bashfully glance at Briggs and smile. “It’s so good to see you, Briggs.”

“I could say the same thing about you, sailor. You look like a fucking dream.”

I don’t blush easily, but the unexpected compliment from Briggs brightens my cheeks anyway.

He gives a shameless scan of my body as a slow whistle leaves his lips, “I don’t recall a dream ever looking any better now that I think of it.”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah, yeah, hot shot. Take a number. The waiting list is a mile long.”

I’m only kidding. There’s no such waiting list of men lined up to be with me. That’s my lonely and feeble mind, hoping for some reputable traction.

Again, shutting that down, too.

Briggs doesn’t seem fazed by the potential army of men waiting on my submission. In fact, he takes it in stride.

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