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He laughed, as usual. The fucker always had a goddamn smile on his face. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have to worry about GQ. He has Dominick.”
“That’s not the Commander I’m referring to, and you know it.”
He groaned and ran his hands through his hair to push it back off his face.
“Yeah, okay. It would be a struggle with him.”
“That’s what I thought. Any more advice for me, Romeo?”
My buddy and former SEAL teammate made a lude gesture of jerking off at me until I shoved him away. Unfortunately, his crazy ass laughter was contagious, and I couldn’t help but join in.
“Jerking it won’t help.” I’ve tried. For years.
“Well,” he said, nudging me toward our favorite coffee shop. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Grow up and hear him out or fuck the hell out of each other and get it out of your system.”
I scoffed at the thought. “You could fuck the Commander for a week.” I paused. “But wait,” I said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “You’ve already done that.”
Dreamboat flipped me the bird as I cackled at him. He didn’t enjoy having the tables turned and being reminded of his own Greer Rowan. And that accidental drunken hookup with the Commander of one of the East Coast SEAL teams five years ago had just become our newest teammate. For some reason, he was doing everything he could to stay out of the Commander’s way.
“Fuck you very much, buddy. But okay. You do your scowling, angry thing, bro cause it’s been working out so well for you.”
Grunting, I followed him into the coffee shop and watched as he sauntered up to the cute barista. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, but Dreamboat would flirt with his own shadow if it got him laid. And evidently, Caleb here did it for him.
“Hey, sexy. What can we get you this morning? The usual?” the kid asked, tilting his head to the side to get his dark hair out of his eyes.
Here he goes.
“Hey, Caleb. That’s exceptional customer service there. Memorizing my order for me.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Thank you,” he beamed. “I do my best to take care of my special customers.”
The kid winked at him, making Brent grin from ear to ear.
I pulled out my wallet and slapped down a twenty. I didn’t have time for the reminder of what I probably looked like mooning all over Greer back in the day.
“When you’re done flirting, bring mine to the condo. I’ve got to go pack,” I grumbled, heading for the door.
“It might be a while, Dare.”
“Hurry the fuck up. I don’t have all day. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Remember what I said.”
Brent chuckled and went back to flirting. But I knew how to move him along. There was no doubt I could be the world’s biggest asshole. I’d been raised by the king of them all, so it had to be genetic.
Pulling out my phone, I opened my contacts. Scrolling, I found the number I was looking for and proceeded to send a text.
Me: Good morning. Trainor’s at the coffee shop near our condo. Doesn’t have his phone on him. Wanted to know if you could meet him there for coffee now that he’s back. I’m headed out of town.
I watched the dots appear, then glanced over my shoulder at my smartass friend.
Commander: Be there in ten.
Darkening the screen, I smiled from ear to ear as I walked home. I’m sure he’d light up my phone later, and revenge would be his. But there was nothing he could do to get me back worse than what was facing me.
A week playing bodyguard/fake boyfriend at a destination wedding with the one man I loved to hate. Or was that hated to love?
