Lo shot me a venomous glare, mouthed “Be nice,” and linked her elbow with Andy’s. She flipped me off as they walked across the patio to where Wes was seated with Erin, or—as I preferred to call her—the quiet one.
I definitely drew the short straw in this activity.
“I don’t spend nearly enough time listening to harpies.” I gestured for Shannon to finish her story, and hoped my remarks were enough to send her back to her room for the night. That was my exit strategy, and she was providing more than enough material to work with. “By all means, continue. I’m certain there are some frat boys brewing their own basement lager that you haven’t mentioned yet, and I won’t be able to sleep tonight without your assessment of their operation.”
“The things I do for my brothers,” Shannon said under her breath.
I expected another book report on the history of brewing but she stayed silent. She watched as Lo and Andy returned to the inn, and then her attention shifted to Erin. Shannon was putting a lot of effort into making her glances seem casual, and failing miserably.
Her thumb swept back and forth over the bottle’s neck, and for a moment, I was transfixed by an image of those fingers on my cock. They were so small and slim, I bet they wouldn’t fit all the way around my shaft.
And fuck me, I couldn’t stop watching her stroke that bottle. I closed my eyes, and I could feel it, I could feel her skin against mine, andfucking hell, it had been too long.
“Give me that,” I said, grabbing the beer away. It was barely cold and I couldn’t say I enjoyed beer this hoppy but I drank it anyway.
“We could have ordered you one, dearie,” she said.
“Unlikely,” I said. “You scared the piss out of Barry, and probably everyone else at this place.”
Her laugh was a soft, breathy sound, and it was the most honest thing I’d heard from her all night. “You can’t say I don’t get shit done.”
I couldn’t stay seated any longer. I needed something to do, a way to expel the misplaced desire hammering in my veins, and I was half ready to dive into the ocean and swim until I washed up on the shore. At least then I’d be too exhausted to think about wrapping all that red hair around my fist and forcing her to her knees.
Stepping behind the bar, I grabbed our empty bottles and tossed them in the bin. Sam was drunkenly corralling his brothers—plus Wes, Erin, and Nick, the doctor who’d asked me an unending series of questions about tribal healthcare conditions in Pakistan and Afghanistan earlier in the evening—and leading them down the beach toward his cottage.
That was the bullet I was taking for this team tonight: Wes was gathering intel on Lo’s in-laws while eyeing Erin, and I was left keeping a leash on Shortcake.
But then I noticed her trackingme, and I realized this little girl and I were playing the same fucking game. How could I have missed such overt scrutiny? And no, of course she didn’t have a thing for IPAs.
Yeah, the bitch hadballs.
“So you’re the tail.”
“I’m what?” she snapped, and it seemed plausible that she’d have a trophy case packed with all the assholes she’d torn up.
“The tail,” I repeated. “I know my objective here…but what’s yours?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, jangling those stupid Slinky bracelets in the process. “Your sister seems to believe you’re going to kidnap and torture my brother. She wanted to prevent that.”
“It’s called enhanced interrogation,” I said. “And that’s not my wheelhouse.”
“That’s right,” she murmured. “I’m told you’re quite the commando.”
I bristled. There was a lot of mythology surrounding special operations teams, and most of it was inaccurate or exaggerated. “We aren’t fond of that term, ma’am.”
“In that case, I’m quite fond of it.” She eyed me up and down, visibly taking stock of my dive watch, the Gatorz sunglasses hanging from the neck of my t-shirt, and the frog skeleton tattoo peeking out from my sleeve. “What kind of commando activities have you been up to recently?”
You wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I told you.“Afraid that’s classified, ma’am.”
She stared at me as if she wasn’t accustomed to being refused anything, ever. And look at her. Those pouty lips, the ones that ordered everyone around as if they were on her payroll and they should be fucking thrilled to have that honor. That stubborn chin, angled just enough to communicate her superiority. And those eyes, big and dark, dark mossy green, twinkling as if she was amused by my insubordination.
This woman was lethal.
Tearing my gaze away from Shannon, I surveyed the beer selection and opted for another Summer Ale. “Why is Matt in such a hurry to marry my sister?”
Before seeing Lo or meeting her fiancé, Wes and I endured one of the most stern lectures my father had delivered in years. It seemed the Commodore was drunk on the Matthew Walsh Koolaid. At the very minimum, my mother was force-feeding it to him. He officially warned us off any initiatives aimed at interrogating or otherwise scaring the shit out of our future brother-in-law. That didn’t mean I wasn’t free to collect intel.
Shannon smiled, and for the first time, it was authentic. “Because they have crazy, filthy love for each other.” She wandered behind the bar and inspected every bottle in stock before selecting a Sam Adams. She leaned against the counter, staring at me while she sipped.
