“People respect honesty.” The wisdom of Zeus again.
Okay, I can’t keep calling him Zeus. Not if he’s going to be talking to me and staring at me as well as starring in all my future sex dreams.
“People like to slow down for car wrecks too, which is why my love life is so popular. Have you noticed we haven’t been introduced yet?”
His eyes widen and I take that as a no. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours, or anything else about you.”
“Oh, this should be interesting.” I hear Fiona murmur to Wyatt. “Tell us about him, JD. Do your thing and tell us who you think he is.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. I lean an elbow on the bar and study him as if I’m trying to solve a mystery. “You don’t have blue eyes, so odds are low on you being a stray Finn family member. Plus, these two referred to you as company, which implies friendship instead of blood relation. Since Ken is relaxed around you but Brady is deferent, I imagine you were either a peer he respected or his superior at some point. You’re also both practically standing at attention in the middle of a bar on a weekend. I’m cheating a little because I know Brady’s work resume, but which initials are we talking about? PD or USMC?”
That’s me being subtle.
And maybe showing off.
Brady eyes me with admiration and pats Zeus on the shoulder. “That is a scary party trick, Green. Master Sergeant Willis was my senior drill instructor at boot camp. This man got me through some rough times and into the best shape of my life. And he only made me cry twice.”
He said that like it was a compliment. With a straight face.
“What a sweetheart,” I mutter, flushing when I see his lips curve in amusement.
“No one has ever called me that before.”
Poor Zeus. I can fix that for you. “I still haven’t gotten your first name. If this keeps up I’ll think you’re a spy.”
“Carter.” That husky rasp sends physical vibrations up my spine. “My name is Carter. And if I were a spy, I’m guessing your skills would have caught me out by now.”
Master Sergeant Carter Willis.
A Marine no less.
Woof.
He’s younger than I first assumed. Early forties, at most. That touch of silver in his hair is sexy in an Anderson Cooper kind of way. Only Cooper doesn’t have a beard or look like he could chew nails for lunch and survive a hostile alien environment without backup.
He’s so damn—what’s the word I’m looking for? Masculine? Alpha? Sexy as fuck with a ninety-nine percent probability of being off the market and/or hetero?
This perfect specimen from the land of testosterone is also a walking recruitment poster. Just looking at him gives me the urge to do more with my life. Be all I can be. Maybe take up wrestling.
Now I’m imagining the two of us wrestling.
Spoiler Alert: I’m naked and I let him win.
He’s still staring. With a slow blink he scans me from my lucky red Chucks to my blue and grey flannel, his eyes narrowing on the t-shirt beneath that reads, Speak Friend and Enter in Elvish. A nod to my level of geek.
I’m suddenly insecure about my choice of casually mismatched dating attire. Should I have worn a suit and tie to the pub? The mauve, silk poet shirt I got for Christmas as a joke from one of my brothers?
I’ve never been into false advertising. I am what I am, and sadly, it isn’t Popeye. More like a hybrid of Olive Oil and Wimpy, if we’re telling truths. For those who aren’t in the know, picture flailing limbs and a perpetual case of the munchies.
No wonder I can’t get laid.
But from Carter’s expression, he likes what he sees. Does he know what he’s doing with those eyes of his? I’m either drunk enough to be delusional, or this drill instructor is giving me the look. The, I’m interested in wrestling with you naked look.
I might have been thrown off by his rugged looks, age and military background, but I honestly can’t tell which way he’s leaning. He hasn’t gotten weird around Brady and Ken, but all that means is he’s a decent guy. Is it possible he’s actually—
You’re delusional, Green. You have to be. Abort. Abort.
Brady’s head swivels back and forth between us, and I realize my ogling has gone on long enough for the others to notice. It might be time for me to leave before I embarrass myself more than I already have.
“Nice to meet you, Brady. Ken. Gunny.” I scoot off my stool.
Brady snorts at that. “What? I watch movies,” I mumble. “What’s the damage, Fiona? Since my date has officially bailed, I think it’s time for Cinderfella to head home and finish that diary entry.”