Authors: Dani Jace
“Long mission?”
“Months.” He glanced around the bar, then to her.
“It’s early. You still have time to remedy your just-back virgin status.” She smirked.
His gaze burned into her like a blue flame. “Is that an offer?”
“Sorry, don’t mix business with pleasure.” For the first time since working at the Trident, she considered breaking her rule, as she thumped her pen on her ticket pad. “The local ladies show up later on in the evening. What’d you like on your burger?” Peri took his order and passed it to the cook in the kitchen.
Jax continued to draw her attention as she chatted and checked on drinks. No wedding band, but it didn’t mean anything. Not many wore them on missions. Even if he wasn’t involved, he was stationed on the opposite side of the country.
The only fantasy she might possibly hope to indulge in with the too-handsome SEAL would be a night or two of hot, sweaty, too-long-celibate sex. He could scratch her itch.
One of her regulars claimed the empty seat next to Jax. Her silent partner, Phil, a retired SEAL who had served in Iraq and had gone into counseling troubled teens afterward. Extremely astute at reading people, he’d find out what had Jax’s chain pulled too tight.
Phil and Jax were engaged in conversation by the time she returned from the kitchen with his burger and fries. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Another Jack and some Ranch dressing for the fries, please.” A slight smile tugged his thin, masculine lips.
“Phil?”
“The standard.” He cut his glance to Jax, then back to her and wiggled his brows.
Peri frowned as she reached in the cooler for a beer, annoyed by Phil’s matchmaking. Or had Jax said something to him? Both wore cat ate canary expressions as she set their drinks before them.
"Phil says you make the dressing, Peri.”
“Yep. Phil’s been here since the Trident opened. He’s the reason our clientele fits the name.” And he’d given a stranger her first name.
* * * *
Jax didn’t count the night as a total loss. What guy could complain about having whiskey served by a gorgeous woman who smelled like citrus and the tropics? In compliance with his personal preferences, she wasn’t a paling flower either.
The playful fire in her gaze amused him. However, she seemed none too happy he’d found out her name. No doubt, every sailor who walked through the door hit on her. It probably grew tiresome. Yet, she’d passed him a few lingering looks he found totally hot.
Although she more than met his qualifications, and might be a bit intrigued with him for the moment, he suspected she wasn’t the type for a tryst―all he had to offer. He’d have to enjoy her beauty and saucy personality from across the bar during his brief visit. It didn’t stop him from appreciating her long, lean lines as she came and went. Midway through his burger and fourth drink, the room swayed.
Determined to ignore the nagging pain in his leg after the long flight, he’d forgotten about the painkillers he’d taken. Several shots of booze later, he felt like someone had juiced him with a full body shot of Novocain.
He’d survived waterboard torture testing and he’d be damned if Vicodin and Jack would take him down. It didn't help he'd been awake for nearly thirty-six hours since leaving Germany.
Thankfully, Phil had struck a conversation at the opposite end of the bar. Jax fished for his wallet, laid some bills on the bar, and nodded to Peri when she glanced his way. He could have walked on nails or with a limp. He couldn’t tell. He made it to the door and welcomed the sobering, spring air.
He rounded the corner of the building and reached for his cell. Before he found TJ’s home number, everything dimmed.
* * * *
Peri locked the rear door after closing. Weary, she slid into her fifteen-year-old pick-up truck before mentally running through her list of errands to do in the morning. She needed to price a new pool pump and shop for groceries for Sunday dinner. Sunday―the only day she’d have to spend with Haley over spring break before her father whisked her off to Disney World. The naval commander used his money to win Haley’s love while she played parent.
After the grocery store, she needed to pick up the refill on her birth control pills. Why she wasted the money, she didn’t know. And speaking of birth control, she maybe she should consider making an appointment for Haley.
Fantasizing about a steamy night with TJ’s friend Jax seemed at odds with having a sixteen-year-old. Shit, at thirty-four, she had to be nearly five years his senior.
She cranked the engine and rounded the side of the building as her lights struck a form slumped against the brick wall.
Slamming on the brake made the tires to bark. As owner, she always kept an eye out for sailors ordering too many rounds, as did her table servers. She flung open the door and walked into the headlight beams. The man’s head slumped against his chest. The expensive black wristwatch she’d seen earlier in the evening identified him. She knelt beside Jax.
Shit.
Comatose aptly described his condition. He hadn’t been drunk when walking into her bar and never finished his fourth drink. Most SEALs had hollow legs where alcohol was concerned, but some slipped in flasks filled with their favorite quaff to keep their bar tabs low. If she found liquor on him, she’d slap him from his stupor no matter how handsome his face.
His pulse beat bold and steady. He seemed okay, but she couldn’t leave him and her staff had already headed home. She searched his jacket pockets, finding them empty except for his cell phone. “Jax.”
No way to check his last calls on the military-issue encrypted phone and TJ was on night training. At nearly three a.m., even if she found a key on him, she didn’t want to go searching for TJ’s place. Shit again. “Jax.” She shook his shoulder.
He groaned.
She patted his cheeks.
He moaned.
Yelling might startle him or provoke a violent response. She leaned closer and pressed his thigh.
“Fuck!” He jerked as his eyelids flew open. Grimacing, he slapped her hand away.
“I’m sorry. What did I do?” A sticky dampness cooled her fingertips. “Fuck is right, sailor. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.” He shook his head as if clearing cobwebs.
“Come on.” She helped him to his feet. He’d left the bar hours ago and she worried about hypothermia if he’d been passed out that long.
“Where’s my rental?” He scanned the area.
“You have a car?”
“Peri?” He stared without focus.
“Yeah, and you owe me another tip.”
He laughed, leaning on her as she guided him to her truck.
Now what to do with him?
She drove home.
Jax peeked from beneath half-closed eyelids, grateful for the near-dark surroundings. His mind reran last night’s events with the film ending as he tried to call TJ’s place. He sat up in bed with a groan. The large room had a wide, low ceiling. A huge TV with a game system sat at the end of the room near the stairs. A room over the garage? But whose?
He threw off the covers. He was naked except for his black boxer briefs. His jeans and T-shirt lay neatly folded beside his leather jacket on the sofa in front of the big screen. His phone sat on the table beside the bed.
Who had put the clean bandage on his thigh? Nothing about the room gave evidence to the owner of the house. Or whom he might have slept with. Nix that. As messed up as he’d been, equipment failure was highly likely.
He found a pair of sweats next to his bloodstained jeans and tugged them on. They were so loose, he had to tighten the inner drawstring. His stomached growled. Hell, he hadn’t finished the super-sized burger at the Trident.
Peri. He smiled. At least part of his wish had been answered on his first night back―to spend time with a beautiful woman. If he hadn’t passed out, he might have talked her into changing his celibate status.
Time to thank whomever had taken pity on his slack ass. Descending the steps, he inhaled the sweet smell of bacon. He expected to find TJ’s woman or Phil as he turned the corner.
Eyes as big as a doe’s bore into him and his heart stopped.
Snug jean shorts curved around Peri’s shapely rear. Her legs were long enough to wrap around his neck and her spaghetti tank dipped low, revealing a bounty of tanned cleavage. “Morning, sleeping beauty.” She grabbed a coffee mug off a rack and filled it to the brim.
Hung over and thirsty, he swallowed over what felt like cotton. “Thanks. Is there a head nearby?” Knowing he’d put her out, he gave her a tentative smile.
She pointed to a door toward the stairs.
He gulped some coffee before he headed there. Behind the closed door, he relieved the pressure in his bladder. Afterward is cock remained on salute, trying to impress the woman in the kitchen.
A hangover with a hard-on. Sick fuck. He had to admit the combination was a first for him, but his dick had a mind of its own after months of no attention but his hand.
Afterward, he splashed some water on his face, rinsed out his mouth, and washed his hands.
The smell of biscuits led him back to the kitchen. “Sorry about last night.”
A pile of light, wavy hair bobbed on top of her head as she turned bacon in the skillet. “No problem, but usually my boarders provide some handyman services, so I might put you to work.” She pointed the tongs at him.
He nearly choked on his coffee. “Funny. You really rent the room over the garage to sailors?”
“Only those I know. I wouldn’t have brought you home if you weren’t a friend of TJ’s. Then again, you were pretty helpless.”
He coughed. “Not what I wanted to hear.”
She finished scrambling eggs and motioned to a seat at the counter. Beyond the bay window an in-ground pool looked uninviting in its rich shade of green.
“Eat up.” A plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and biscuits slid in front of him.
He forked down several mouthfuls, trying to remember table manners over his growling stomach. The dull throb behind his eyes started to wane. “This is smack-your-mama good. Geez, woman, is there anything you can’t do? Cook, bartend, and pick-up strays.”
Her pouty lips rolled together as though she fought a smile. She sat next to him. “I already told you I’m picky about my strays.”
“What’s with the pool?” He glanced to the backyard.
“Single mom working full time and I don’t know how to rebuild a pump.” She passed him the butter for his biscuit while chewing a piece of bacon.
“Then you couldn’t have picked up a better stray. I’m used to learning on the fly.”
“And the very reason I only take in boarders who are special ops.” She sipped on her coffee. “By the way, the barter system is for room and board only.”
“Can’t persuade you make an exception in my case? Seems you’ve already seen me nearly in the buff.” He smirked as he swallowed the last of his breakfast.
“That depends on how fast the pool turns blue.” She rose sassily, scraped off her half-eaten food and racked the plate in the dishwasher. “I’ve got errands to do this morning. Do you want a ride to base?”
“Kicking me out already?” Damn, his sexual remark must have pissed her off.
“Don’t you need your gear bag?” She slid him her laptop from the counter. “Study up on the pump. See what parts you need.”
“All my gear is in the rental car sitting in your parking lot. And, thanks for playing Florence Nightingale in addition to your Humane Society work.”
“You seemed in a lot of pain last night.”
Her empathic sea-green stare made him uncomfortable. He tapped on the keyboard, pretending to search the Internet. Crap, she’d seen the ugly puckering hole when she changed his dressing while he was out cold. “I’d had several Vicodin on the plane. Didn’t mix well with the Jack. I’m feeling better after decent sleep in a real bed. About the car?”
“Relax. Shower if you want. I’ve got to pick up some liquor for my bar. We’ll get it then.”
Holy crap. He glanced to her. “You own the Trident?”
“Can you wrap your head around that?”
“Like a Christmas present.” It all made sense now. Her commanding presence went beyond bartender. He loaded the remaining dishes into the dishwasher, and fired up the computer as she headed off to bathe.
Damn if he didn’t want to join her. Lather up those beautiful locks of hers and work his way down.
* * * *
Good to his word, he purchased the parts and rebuilt the pump in less than an hour. Peri enjoyed the bare view of his muscular back and the intricate eagle tattoo with wings spread across his shoulders. His butt molded the borrowed swim trunks to model perfection.
She found it hard not to stare. By late afternoon, the pool water had transformed from a murky green to a hazy blue.
Dozing on the pillow-topped chaise, he looked relaxed, even against his strong jaw and well-groomed stubble. Beneath closed lids lay hypnotic eyes, which seemed to read through her pretense. What would his lips feel like against hers?
Faded scars graced his muscular limbs and chest, making him manlier. His height could easily hold another ten or fifteen pounds. Weight he probably had before he left the States. Most lost weight while deployed. Stress and heat took a toll and the MRE—meals ready to eat—only provided sustenance.
Why had he accepted her invitation to stay when his buddy lived nearby? He’d said he didn’t want to bother TJ’s girlfriend and he’d rather help her fix some things around the house after she scraped his ass from the curb.
She’d had boarders before, but this one tempted her to forego her rule and let her hair down—and more. By Monday, Haley would be Florida-bound with her dad. She only had to open and close the Trident tonight, as Phil covered Sundays. Then she’d be alone in the house at nights with a total beefcake and his fuck-me-now body. If the bulge in his sweats this morning was any indication, he was interested. Maybe she should reconsider and put herself in Jax’s capable hands.
It wouldn’t break her code since he wasn’t a regular patron. He’d leave in a matter of days. And she’d probably never lay eyes on him again. Like a cougar on her last hunt, she licked her lips, imagining his erotic flavor.