banged him again even after he confessed that he wasn’t Dracula.”
“Dracula wasn’t Russian, dumbass,” Seth said, rolling his eyes.
Cash waved a hand. “Same diff.”
“Don’t worry,” Jackson assured them. “I didn’t abandon ship when she told me.”
Nope, he’d been willing to overlook the teeny little fib because Kelly Ann had been so dang cute. And besides, it really was sweet that she’d gone to such lengths just to meet him.
“Here you go, honey,” Roz the waitress announced, interrupting the discussion by dropping two full shot glasses in front of Jackson. “Enjoy.”
He reached for one of the shots. “Thanks, darlin’.”
As she darted off, Jackson threw his head back and inhaled the first shot, followed immediately by the second. The whiskey slid down his throat in a nice, slow burn and warmed his insides, but it didn’t succeed in vanquishing the frustration gathering in his body.
He promptly picked up where he’d left off. “So our food shows up, things are good again—”
“Did she keep doing the accent?” Seth cut in, chuckling.
“Naah, all traces of the south were gone. Replaced with a northeastern accent. Boston, she says.”
Dylan snickered. “‘She says’?”
Jackson released a glum breath. “We keep chattin’, order some dessert, and then she cuts me off midsentence and says she has another confession to make. Boston accent—poof. It’s gone. She’s actually from North Dakota.”
There was a brief silence, and then all three SEALs burst out laughing.
“And she’s talkin’ in this thick North Dakota accent,” he went on. “Like right out of Fargo .”
Seth started wheezing, slapping a palm on the table as he convulsed with laughter. “Oh sweet baby Jesus, this is awesome.”
Cash wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “What was the explanation this time?”
“She wanted me to think she was sophisticated.” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “So I tell her, no biggie, darlin’. First dates can be stressful, people lie, that kind of shit. But apparently she saw this as me giving her permission to own up to everythin’ else, ’cause now she’s tellin’ me she’s not a bank teller like she said—she’s actually a cashier at a grocery store. She’s not twenty-seven, she’s thirty-three. Oh, and her name isn’t Kelly Ann. It’s fuckin’ Susan.”
Another silence.
Followed by another round of gut-busting laughter that ended up bringing a wry smile to Jackson’s lips. Fine, maybe it was a wee bit funny, he had to admit.
But another part of him was distressed as hell. He was twenty-eight years old—he’d always figured he’d be married with a couple of kids by now. Instead, he was still playing the frickin’ field while everyone around him caught the love bug and found the woman of their dreams. Or in Dylan’s case, the woman and the man.
He wanted what Seth and Miranda had, dang it. What Cash and Jen had. What Dylan, Claire and Aidan had. Well, minus the Aidan part. He loved Dylan to death, but screwing another dude had never interested Jackson. He just wanted the love part, but it seemed like every woman he went out with was certifiably nuts.
Cash’s voice interrupted his depressing thoughts. “So I’m guessing you’re not going out with her again.”
“Gee, great guess,” Seth cracked. “Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes over here.”
Cash flashed his middle finger at the other man, then turned back to Jackson. “This might actually be a good thing. Jen was just telling me this morning that she thinks she found the perfect woman for you. She wanted me to ask you if it’s okay to give the chick your number.”
Jackson hesitated. He wasn’t crazy about set-ups, but he’d been striking out on his own so much lately that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be more open-minded.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered.
“Maybe Jen’s friend will be the one,” Dylan said helpfully.
He
“Dracula wasn’t Russian, dumbass,” Seth said, rolling his eyes.
Cash waved a hand. “Same diff.”
“Don’t worry,” Jackson assured them. “I didn’t abandon ship when she told me.”
Nope, he’d been willing to overlook the teeny little fib because Kelly Ann had been so dang cute. And besides, it really was sweet that she’d gone to such lengths just to meet him.
“Here you go, honey,” Roz the waitress announced, interrupting the discussion by dropping two full shot glasses in front of Jackson. “Enjoy.”
He reached for one of the shots. “Thanks, darlin’.”
As she darted off, Jackson threw his head back and inhaled the first shot, followed immediately by the second. The whiskey slid down his throat in a nice, slow burn and warmed his insides, but it didn’t succeed in vanquishing the frustration gathering in his body.
He promptly picked up where he’d left off. “So our food shows up, things are good again—”
“Did she keep doing the accent?” Seth cut in, chuckling.
“Naah, all traces of the south were gone. Replaced with a northeastern accent. Boston, she says.”
Dylan snickered. “‘She says’?”
Jackson released a glum breath. “We keep chattin’, order some dessert, and then she cuts me off midsentence and says she has another confession to make. Boston accent—poof. It’s gone. She’s actually from North Dakota.”
There was a brief silence, and then all three SEALs burst out laughing.
“And she’s talkin’ in this thick North Dakota accent,” he went on. “Like right out of Fargo .”
Seth started wheezing, slapping a palm on the table as he convulsed with laughter. “Oh sweet baby Jesus, this is awesome.”
Cash wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “What was the explanation this time?”
“She wanted me to think she was sophisticated.” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “So I tell her, no biggie, darlin’. First dates can be stressful, people lie, that kind of shit. But apparently she saw this as me giving her permission to own up to everythin’ else, ’cause now she’s tellin’ me she’s not a bank teller like she said—she’s actually a cashier at a grocery store. She’s not twenty-seven, she’s thirty-three. Oh, and her name isn’t Kelly Ann. It’s fuckin’ Susan.”
Another silence.
Followed by another round of gut-busting laughter that ended up bringing a wry smile to Jackson’s lips. Fine, maybe it was a wee bit funny, he had to admit.
But another part of him was distressed as hell. He was twenty-eight years old—he’d always figured he’d be married with a couple of kids by now. Instead, he was still playing the frickin’ field while everyone around him caught the love bug and found the woman of their dreams. Or in Dylan’s case, the woman and the man.
He wanted what Seth and Miranda had, dang it. What Cash and Jen had. What Dylan, Claire and Aidan had. Well, minus the Aidan part. He loved Dylan to death, but screwing another dude had never interested Jackson. He just wanted the love part, but it seemed like every woman he went out with was certifiably nuts.
Cash’s voice interrupted his depressing thoughts. “So I’m guessing you’re not going out with her again.”
“Gee, great guess,” Seth cracked. “Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes over here.”
Cash flashed his middle finger at the other man, then turned back to Jackson. “This might actually be a good thing. Jen was just telling me this morning that she thinks she found the perfect woman for you. She wanted me to ask you if it’s okay to give the chick your number.”
Jackson hesitated. He wasn’t crazy about set-ups, but he’d been striking out on his own so much lately that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be more open-minded.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered.
“Maybe Jen’s friend will be the one,” Dylan said helpfully.
He
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