Page 2 of A SEAL for the Weekend
But I’m not looking for a boy.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I’m meeting someone.”
He nods once, and his smile turns to a resigned nod. At least he takes the rejection well. He’s probably used to it. I get the feeling he’ll ask any woman with a pulse if they want a drink.
“Enjoy your evening.”
As I watch him stumble back to his friends, I finish the rest of my beer and consider my options. I could go to the hotel. I could wipe this makeup off, get some sleep, and drive home to Hope tomorrow. But I came here to lose my virginity, and I’m not going home until I do.
I signal to the waiter and order another beer.
There’s a commotion behind me, and I turn to find another man walking toward me. Behind him, his friends chant words I can’t make out. He staggers the last few steps toward me and trips on his own feet, lurching forward. I try to swivel out the way, but hebumps into me, spilling my beer over the bar and over my top. Laugher erupts from his friends.
“Oh shit,” the guy says. “Sorry.” The grin on his face tells me he’s not sorry at all. “I guess you’ll have to take it off.” He laughs at his own joke, and his friends pick up a new chant.
“Take it off. Take it off.”
Ignoring them, I grab a pile of napkins from the bar and dab at the beer soaking into my top.
“Come back to my place, and you can wear one of my shirts,” the man slurs, refusing to give up. He puts his arm on me, and I jerk away.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, causing his friends to let out a long, “Oooh.”
It seems they find his harassment hilarious. It’s a game to them, but there’s nothing funny about the spike of fear that shoots through me as the realization of my situation hits me. I’ve come to a squaddie bar to pick up a man, and every man here knows it. This was a stupid idea.
I put my almost empty beer on the counter and slide what I owe over to the bartender. But Drunk Asshole hasn’t taken the hint. He leans an elbow on the bar, angling his body toward me. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Fuck off,” I hiss, and after grabbing my purse, I slide off the stool.
His expression turns from amused to anger in a flash. “No need to be a bitch about it.”
He leans in to say something, but I never learn what it is. A shadow falls over us, and a thick hand lands on the man’s arm.
“She said fuck off.”
I look up to the owner of the gruff voice and see it’s the man who was sitting on the other side of the bar. In the light, I can see his features properly, and I like what I see. He’s got at least a decade on the boy who spilled my drink. Dark hair I want to run my hands through skims the top of his ears, and unlike the other men in the bar, he’s got thick stubble coating his chin.
Drawing my attention away from the newcomer, Drunk Asshole stands up straight and faces him, eyeing him for a beat before retreating. But Mystery Man grabs his arm before he can leave.
“Apologize to the lady.”
The drunk guy huffs and is about to say something but clearly thinks better of it. All the fight goes out of him. Instead, in my direction, he mumbles, “Sorry.”
“You’re a soldier,” the man admonishes him. “Act like one.”
Once he releases his hold, the man staggers back to his friends, and I look up to my savior and find dark eyes staring down at me.
“Sorry you had to go through that. It gets wild in here.”
“You don’t need to apologize for him.”
He signals over the bartender, who wipes up the spilled beer with a cloth. “That asshole should’ve bought you a drink to replace the one he spilled.” He catches the eye of the bartender and asks me, “You want another beer to replace the one youspilled? Or do you want to leave? I can walk you to your car if you feel unsafe.”
I run my gaze over him. He’s tall and solid, with broad shoulders. His blue t-shirt sits snug over muscular arms, and tattoos snake over his tanned skin. He doesn’t look like a typical military guy.
The shaggy hair cut and facial hair are only allowed in some of the elite troop units. If he’s military, then he’s special forces like my brother, Hudson. Which is why I know not to ask.
“Why would I be any safer with you?”
