tonight.
Lilah laughed. “You ran home crying when Linda Finley threw bird poop on you.”
“That was the sixth grade and it landed in my hair.” She dropped her arms. She’d never been in a fight in her life, but if one more person asked about her ex-husband, she could probably go all flying snooker crazy on someone.
Lilah shook her head. “Steve, dance with my friend Natalie.” She patted the guy on the shoulder and warned, “Behave.”
“And don’t mention Michael.”
“Who’s Michael?”
“Exactly.”
She and Steve moved to the small crowded dance floor and he wrapped his arm around her waist. All respectable like a real gentleman. “I like this Catwoman costume.”
Catwoman? “I’m Robin. Batman’s sidekick.”
“Robin’s a guy.”
“Not tonight.” Over Tyler Farr’s “Redneck Crazy,” she told Steve how long it had taken her to find the costume on the Internet. “Most were inappropriate.”
“I like inappropriate.” To prove it, Steve slid his hand down her green shorts and cupped her butt. She pushed at his shoulders and left him standing on the dance floor. What had she expected from a friend of Tommy’s?
She found Lilah chatting with a cute young bartender. “I’m going home.”
“Are you going to crash at my place?”
She’d love to. “I can’t leave the dog alone.” She was too tipsy to drive and Truly didn’t have taxis. “Are you sober?”
Lilah shook her head. “I know who is, though.”
Ten minutes later, Natalie sat in the back of Frankie’s piece-of-crap Ford Taurus. The heat didn’t seem to work and Natalie wrapped her cape tight around herself. Lilah sat in front, chatting nonstop like Frankie’s car was all nice and toasty and Natalie wasn’t in the back turning into an icicle.
When they pulled up in front of her house, Lilah looked over her shoulder at Natalie, “Are you going to be okay?”
Natalie nodded and looked past her friend’s head to the lights from the big house next door spilling into the darkness and onto the long drive. Light that hadn’t been burning hours ago. “Oh yeah. I’ll be just fine.”
Chapter Six
Blake laughed and raised a bottle of water to his lips. “Cliff was uglier than a bag of smashed assholes,” he said into his cell phone, then took a drink. “But there was no one better in the comm center during a firefight.”
Retired Navy SEAL buddy Vince Haven added, “And drank anyone under the table. Even you and your brother.”
“True. Remember that bar in Memphis when we took out a couple of firefighters and some of those mixed martial arts pussies.” Fighting was just a fact of life in the teams. Blake never went looking for a fight. A fight just always seemed to find him. Usually it started with a little dog itching to take on a big dog. Or it happened when a man insulted a woman, and Blake felt it his duty to tap him on the shoulder and tell him to shut his pie hole. And it just went without saying that all bets were off when someone disrespected a fellow serviceman or woman while sitting on their ass in a micro brewery, sipping pumpkin beer.
“You got arrested that time.”
Arrested because he’d been so shit-faced he’d kept fighting once the cops arrived. Blake took another drink, then set the bottle on the counter. “The charges were dropped,” he said as the doorbell rang. He raised his wrist and looked at his watch. It was midnight. “What the fuck? Someone’s at my door.”
“Booty call?”
He thought of Natalie. “Nah. That’s the big drawback of small-town living. Not a lot of booty to call.”
“Damn. I remember those days.”
Now Vince had a good-looking woman in his bed every night. He’d even put a ring on her finger. “My nut sack is about to explode from lack of action,” Blake said as he walked to the door. On the other side all he could make out was a yellow blur through the glass.
Vince laughed. “Go take some Motrin.”
The military handed out Motrin for
Lilah laughed. “You ran home crying when Linda Finley threw bird poop on you.”
“That was the sixth grade and it landed in my hair.” She dropped her arms. She’d never been in a fight in her life, but if one more person asked about her ex-husband, she could probably go all flying snooker crazy on someone.
Lilah shook her head. “Steve, dance with my friend Natalie.” She patted the guy on the shoulder and warned, “Behave.”
“And don’t mention Michael.”
“Who’s Michael?”
“Exactly.”
She and Steve moved to the small crowded dance floor and he wrapped his arm around her waist. All respectable like a real gentleman. “I like this Catwoman costume.”
Catwoman? “I’m Robin. Batman’s sidekick.”
“Robin’s a guy.”
“Not tonight.” Over Tyler Farr’s “Redneck Crazy,” she told Steve how long it had taken her to find the costume on the Internet. “Most were inappropriate.”
“I like inappropriate.” To prove it, Steve slid his hand down her green shorts and cupped her butt. She pushed at his shoulders and left him standing on the dance floor. What had she expected from a friend of Tommy’s?
She found Lilah chatting with a cute young bartender. “I’m going home.”
“Are you going to crash at my place?”
She’d love to. “I can’t leave the dog alone.” She was too tipsy to drive and Truly didn’t have taxis. “Are you sober?”
Lilah shook her head. “I know who is, though.”
Ten minutes later, Natalie sat in the back of Frankie’s piece-of-crap Ford Taurus. The heat didn’t seem to work and Natalie wrapped her cape tight around herself. Lilah sat in front, chatting nonstop like Frankie’s car was all nice and toasty and Natalie wasn’t in the back turning into an icicle.
When they pulled up in front of her house, Lilah looked over her shoulder at Natalie, “Are you going to be okay?”
Natalie nodded and looked past her friend’s head to the lights from the big house next door spilling into the darkness and onto the long drive. Light that hadn’t been burning hours ago. “Oh yeah. I’ll be just fine.”
Chapter Six
Blake laughed and raised a bottle of water to his lips. “Cliff was uglier than a bag of smashed assholes,” he said into his cell phone, then took a drink. “But there was no one better in the comm center during a firefight.”
Retired Navy SEAL buddy Vince Haven added, “And drank anyone under the table. Even you and your brother.”
“True. Remember that bar in Memphis when we took out a couple of firefighters and some of those mixed martial arts pussies.” Fighting was just a fact of life in the teams. Blake never went looking for a fight. A fight just always seemed to find him. Usually it started with a little dog itching to take on a big dog. Or it happened when a man insulted a woman, and Blake felt it his duty to tap him on the shoulder and tell him to shut his pie hole. And it just went without saying that all bets were off when someone disrespected a fellow serviceman or woman while sitting on their ass in a micro brewery, sipping pumpkin beer.
“You got arrested that time.”
Arrested because he’d been so shit-faced he’d kept fighting once the cops arrived. Blake took another drink, then set the bottle on the counter. “The charges were dropped,” he said as the doorbell rang. He raised his wrist and looked at his watch. It was midnight. “What the fuck? Someone’s at my door.”
“Booty call?”
He thought of Natalie. “Nah. That’s the big drawback of small-town living. Not a lot of booty to call.”
“Damn. I remember those days.”
Now Vince had a good-looking woman in his bed every night. He’d even put a ring on her finger. “My nut sack is about to explode from lack of action,” Blake said as he walked to the door. On the other side all he could make out was a yellow blur through the glass.
Vince laughed. “Go take some Motrin.”
The military handed out Motrin for
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