Men In Uniform Anthology Page 8

  He’d met Mark at a school, where both men trained as Aviation Survival Technicians, more commonly known as rescue swimmers. They housed together, and during that time, solidified a friendship that ran as deep as a brotherhood. Mark had been gone three months. Missing, presumed dead when a rescue went horribly awry.

  Now, Steve sat in his rented Honda, the engine still running to keep the heat on, as the temperature decided on a whim to finally match the season, and stared at the red Jeep Wrangler in the far corner. It belonged to Mark’s sister, Lauren. The car suited her as it captured what he always thought of as her free-spiritedness.

  Mark had been the serious one, but Lauren… Lauren was something altogether entirely different, and for Steve, who tended to be as serious as his friend, he’d welcomed that difference. It took him forever to work up the nerve to lean in and kiss her on that steamy, sticky August night, but once he did, it was all he could do to keep from tugging her into the backseat of Mark’s king cab pickup. It was too bad Mark interrupted them, although at least he wasn’t pissed about Steve making a move on his sister.

  A wry grin came to his lips. She was inside the Dunraven, most likely laughing with friends even as her eyes glittered with tears. He could still hear her laugh—throaty and sensual—a sound that could turn him on the way a woman’s hand on his body could. She had no idea the lusty thoughts she brought to his mind, and until he’d received her email asking him to come to Mark’s memorial, he figured those thoughts would remain forever dormant.

  “Well, shit, Pacifico, you sure as hell won’t find out by sitting here.” He pushed the Engine Start/Off button and shoved open the door. His jacket hung in the back, and he shivered as he pulled it from the hanger to tug on. Lauren stressed the memorial would be low-key, but he still thought he ought to show his respect, and so there he was, in his navy blue uniform—the Coast Guard designated Service Dress Blue Bravo. Then he snatched the combination cap from the trunk deck to clap into place as well.

  There, every inch the respectable Petty Officer First Class, Steven C. Pacifico, Aviation Survival Technician of the United States Coast Guard or, in the words that so often made women swoon, US Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer.

  With that, he locked the Accord and made his way along the cracked, somewhat uneven, sidewalk from the parking lot, around to the front of the tavern. Sidleburg on a Saturday night was no different from most other small towns he’d been in, as the stores all along Main Street were open, and people milled about on those cracked and somewhat uneven sidewalks. He smiled as a cluster of men and women skirted him, even chuckled to himself as one of the women did a double take, and by the time he reached the double front doors, most of his apprehension died away.

  The Rolling Stones greeted him as he stepped into the main taproom. Mark loved the Stones, did a dead-on Keith Richards impersonation that left their unit in stitches every time. Now, as “Honky Tonk Women” blared, he could see Mark doing that same damn impersonation, and for the first time since Mark disappeared, Steve smiled.

  He spotted Lauren almost immediately, sitting at a table in the front bay window, talking to a group of women. The taproom felt warmer when she looked up and made eye contact with him.

  Damn, she was beautiful. She was tiny—maybe five foot two—and he towered over her by something like six inches and knew for a fact he could lift her with one arm and do so easily. Usually, she wore her dark blonde hair in a ponytail, but tonight it was loose, falling about her face, apparently irritating her as she scowled and shoved some of it behind her left ear. The scowl melted into something resembling a smile as she gestured to one of the women, then rose from her chair to skirt the table.

  “I know I’m late,” he said by way of greeting, whisking the cap from his head to tuck beneath his arm, “but believe it or not, I drove right by this place before I realized where the parking lot was.”

  “Better late than never,” she told him, slipping her arm through his as she rose onto her toes to brush his cheek with a kiss. As she sank back on her heels, she said, “Why don’t I introduce you?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t.” He glanced around at the crowded taproom. “Where’s your grandfather?”

  “He’s here somewhere.” She looked up at him. “And he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

  “You told him I was coming?”

  “Well, yeah.” She nodded. “I told him I’d asked you, and he was happy to hear I bumped into you at the cemetery today.”

  Somehow, Steve didn’t quite believe that. Mark and Lauren had been raised by their grandfather, and he couldn’t imagine the old man didn’t hold him responsible for the loss of his grandson. “Ren.”

  “What? He is.” Her brows pulled low for a moment, then returned to their normal position. “You look like you could use a drink.”

  “A drink is definitely in order.”

  “Okay. Sit, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

  He swallowed a groan as she led him to the table she’d been at, and the women all smiled up at him. “Everyone, this is Steve, the guy I was telling you about. He and Mark were like this—” she crossed her middle and index fingers, “—so play nice while I’m gone.”

  “Hi, Steve,” one of the women said, giving him a cursory up and down look. “Don’t worry, Lauren, we won’t hurt him.”

  “Good.” Lauren’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t at all gentle as she pushed him into her vacated chair. “What can I get you, Steve?”

  “Johnnie Double Black, neat.”

  “You got it.”

  With that, Lauren disappeared into the crowd, and the woman who’d sized him up leaned her elbow on the table, her chin on her fist, and said, “So you’re a rescue swimmer, right? Like Mark was?”

  He nodded, setting his cap on the scuffed tabletop. “Yeah. Mark and I went through training together in North Carolina and were stationed together on Cape Cod.”

  She smiled. “Well, it is nice to meet you, Steve.” She pressed a hand against her chest. “I’m Izz, that’s Sarah, Angela, and that’s Mona.”

  He smiled. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

  “So where are you stationed?” Izz asked, bringing her martini glass to her lips.

  “I’m still in Massachusetts for now.”

  “For now?” Mona asked.

  He nodded. “I’m moving to Oregon next week.”

  “Oregon?” Sarah set her glass down. “Why so far away?”

  “An opportunity I couldn’t let pass by.” He sat back in his chair, willing Lauren to hurry up. The last thing he wanted or needed was any one of these girls deciding to ask him about Mark. Or anything else. He already knew the drill where his specialty was concerned. Once a woman heard he was a rescue swimmer, they wanted to know all about it, from how he trained to his most dramatic rescue.

  Once upon a time, he’d relished being able to relive those moments, loved how women stared at him as if he was some sort of god, how they saw him as a hero. He didn’t feel that way anymore and doubted he’d ever feel that way again. Now, he’d much rather not talk about what he did. That heroic feeling had a strange way of making him want to dive into the nearest bottle of scotch and forget he was even in the Guard.

  Thankfully, Lauren came their way, a glass in each hand, and as she plunked his in front of him, she said, “They didn’t have Double Black, so I got you a Johnnie Black. I hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine.” He took the glass, threw back half of its contents, and swirled the rest as he said, “Here, sit.”

  “I’m good. I have to go mingle.”

  He stood anyway. “Lauren, sit.”

  The Stones gave way to Bob Seger, and she smiled, swallowing the contents of her glass to set it on the table, and grabbed him by the wrist. “Dance with me.”

  “Dance?”

  She nodded and gestured to the small dance floor in front of the deejay station. No one else danced. Why would they, given the occasion?

  His refusal
lingered on the tip of his tongue, but something in her eyes wouldn’t let him, so he finished his drink and nodded. “You win.”

  “Good.” She tugged on his arm, leading him to the dance floor, where she draped her arms about his neck. “Did they pepper you with questions?”

  Her fingers swept lightly against the back of his neck, and her eyes glittered in the low light. Without thinking, he let his hands slip over the curve of her ass. Damn, her squats paid off. He could bounce a quarter off her ass if he wanted. On their own, his hands tightened over those mounds, and she didn’t seem to mind. “They didn’t have a chance, aside from asking me why I was going to Oregon.”

  “Why are you going there? It’s so far away.”

  “I have to, Ren. I can’t stay on the East Coast, and I definitely can’t stay on the Cape.” He fought back a groan as she moved closer. Her dress was low, and she must’ve been wearing a push-up bra, because she had a little more tit than he remembered. Not that he’d complain. Hers were high and firm, and whatever bra she wore, it showed them in their best light. Last summer, he’d managed to cup one, just before Mark came out to ruin the moment, and ever since, he’d been trying to imagine just how perfect they’d be.

  Well, now those perfect tits pressed hard into his chest. Her perfume, light and floral, teased his nose. Her hair smelled of some kind of flower as well, and the soft lights danced along the golden strands. They remained the only couple dancing, and that was just fine by him. He was in no hurry to let go of her. In fact, the urge to get her alone nearly overpowered him.

  His cock twitched, and he had to force the mental image of what she’d look like topless out of his mind before a hard-on betrayed him the same damn way it did back when he was thirteen and he caught sight of a girl’s fucking bra strap.

  She gazed up at him. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I’ve missed you.”

  The tavern felt warmer still, and his heart thudded dully against his ribs when she tugged him closer still. “Ren, I—”

  The words died on his tongue as he caught sight of Mark’s official portrait to the left of the deejay station and the old man standing before it. Hal McKuen. Every time Mark badgered Steve into coming to New Jersey, the old man made sure Steve felt welcomed, made certain he felt at home, as if he was part of the family, but that was before. Before Steve left Mark to die in the storm-tossed waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Hal was all that thrilled to see him now.

  Steve winced. Damn it, those words were like a blade to his gut. And when Hal glanced over at them, Steve waited for daggers to follow.

  To his surprise, they didn’t. Instead, the old man smiled.

  What the hell?

  “What is it?” Lauren asked, jerking him back to the present.

  “Your grandfather.”

  She smiled. “I told you he’s been looking forward to seeing you again.”

  “Why?”

  “Steve.”

  “What?” He pulled away from her. “Why would he want to see me?”

  “Because you and Mark were friends. He’d have probably adopted you, if he could. You know that.”

  “I killed his grandson, remember.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You did no such thing. Now, if you don’t believe me,” she gestured to her grandfather, “go and say hi and see for yourself.”

  He bit back the oath rising to his lips. Somehow, he didn’t think Hal McKuen would rip him a new one in front of so many people. But since Lauren seemed determined to make him bend to her will, he sighed. “Fine.”

  “Good. You’ll see.”

  With that, she tucked her arm through his and practically dragged him over to her grandfather. “Pop? Do you remember Steve, Mark’s friend?”

  Hal nodded. “Of course I remember Steve.” He looked over at them, and Steve didn’t miss the old man’s wince at the sight of his uniform. “It’s good of you to come.”

  Steve held out his hand and held his breath at the same time, waiting to see if Hal refused to shake it. “I couldn’t not come. Lauren can be persistent when she wants.”

  “She gets it from her old man.” Hal chuckled, then turned to clasp Steve’s hand and, to his surprise, tugged him into an embrace. “I’m glad you made it, son. Very glad.”

  Steve’s eyes stung at the power, the warmth, of the old man’s hug, and the last of his apprehension faded. He’d made the right decision in coming to Sidleburg.

  Hal stepped back. “So, how long are you in town for?”

  “Just until tomorrow. I’m leaving for the west coast tomorrow night.”

  “Really? Whereabouts?”

  “Oregon.” Steve glanced over at Lauren. “An opportunity came up, couldn’t pass it up.”

  “Of course not.” Hal clapped his shoulder hard enough to make Steve take a step sideways. He was deceptively strong. “Just remember, you’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Thank you.” He met Hal’s eyes once more. “But I’m not sure when I’ll make it back east.”

  “Still, the invitation’s there, and the door is always open.” Hal glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of Mark’s portrait. “Seems like it was only yesterday you boys were here. Just yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time.”

  As he said this, Hal turned back to him, and Steve cleared his throat. “Sir, I’d like to say how sorry I am for your loss,” Steve said, pulling away from Lauren to stand beside the old man. He touched Hal’s shoulder. “Mark was a good man and always had my back. I tried to make sure I did the same.”

  “That’s what he always told us.” Lauren slid her arm through his once more. He tried to ignore the jolt that crackled through him at her touch. He looked down at her as she added, “He thought the world of you, you know.”

  He knew. His throat constricted. His eyes burned. All he could do was nod because he didn’t trust himself to speak. Lauren’s fingers tightened on his forearm. She understood.

  The lights brightened, and Hal cleared his throat. “Looks like they want to wrap things up here.”

  “It’s almost ten,” Lauren said. “I promised Riordan he wouldn’t have to give up an entire Saturday night.”

  Steve stiffened. Riordan? “Who?”

  “The owner.” She slid her arm free from his. “He’s a friend as well as one of my clients.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’d hate to see him lose any business.” He glanced over at their table, where his jacket hung over the back of his chair. Those same women were still there, and he

  really didn’t feel like making small talk. He just wanted to get out of there, to retreat to the quiet safety of his motel room and the minibar.

  The music grew louder, and the guy who’d been behind the bar came around. “Ren, love, you have a minute?”

  She nodded. “Excuse me, Steve. I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded, trying not to stare as she followed the bartender back to the bar, but it wasn’t easy. She was easily the hottest woman in the room in that black dress, and the funny thing was, she probably didn’t even know it.

  He steeled himself to go back to his chair, where he hooked a finger into the top of his jacket and lifted it as Izz smiled. “Are you leaving already?”

  “I’m afraid so. I have an early flight.”

  The other women smiled, and the blonde said, “How early?”

  “Early enough that I need my beauty sleep.”

  Izz rose from her chair, skirting the table to close the gap between them. “Just because the memorial is over doesn’t mean the bar’s closing. It’s only ten, and it’s Saturday night.”

  As she spoke, she trailed her fingers along his arm, and there was no mistaking the invitation in her eyes. Still, he shook his head. “I turn into a pumpkin by eleven.”

  “Well, that gives us a whole hour then, doesn’t it?”

  Just like that, Lauren stood there beside him. “Are you leaving, Steve?”

>   “I hope not,” Izz broke in. “I’d love to hear about what you do. Mark always made it sound so exciting.”

  A blonde who joined them looked from Lauren to him and back. “What do you do?”

  He shrugged into his jacket, then reached for his cap before replying. “I served with Mark in the Coast Guard.”

  The blonde’s eyes widened. “Served with him as what?”

  “A rescue swimmer, Rach.” Izz turned to her, then looked back at him, her smile heavy with the same invitation as the one in her eyes.

  He was all too aware of Lauren’s proximity and almost smiled as her hand came down on his forearm, her fingers curling about his wrist possessively. “Well, it was nice meeting all of you. So if you’ll excuse me?” He turned to Lauren. “Walk me out?”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  He bit back a smile as she reached for her purse and growled, “Down, Izz,” at the same time.

  “What?” Izz turned innocent eyes to her. “What did I do?”

  “Thank you all for coming,” Lauren said as she straightened up, and Steve set his cap back on his head as she caught him by the wrist. “Good night.”

  He smiled. “Good night, everyone.”

  Lauren’s fingers tightened on him, and she gave a not-so-gentle tug, which he gave into and allowed her to steer him out onto the sidewalk. It was a great deal cooler than it was inside, and she didn’t have a jacket with her. He shrugged back out of his jacket to drape around her shoulders.

  She blocked him. “I’m fine. But thank you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure.”

  “If you’re sure.” He waited for her to nod. “Okay. Well, where you parked?”

  “In the lot out back. You?”

  “Same.” He gestured toward the corner of the building. “Come on. Are you sure you should be driving?”