Creek’s eyebrows rose. “Now those, I would like to learn. They’d be useful.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Why? You plan on propositioning Tameron with something dirty?”
Creek shot me a look. “Ew, fuck no.”
Tameron clutched his heart. “Ouch. Brutal.”
Creek rolled his eyes. “Very funny. It’s not like Nash here is offering you his sexual services.”
The sip of my beer I had just taken ended up in my nose, and I violently coughed, wheezing for breath. Creek slapped me on the back a few times until I waved at him that I was fine. I wasn’t, but I could suck air into my lungs again, so that was a start. The whole sexual services comment had landed a little too close for comfort, since that had been exactly what I had offered Forest.
Oh, please, I couldn’t think of last night again. If I sported a boner now, I’d never hear the end of it. But it seemed my body was still prioritizing oxygen over everything else, and thank fuck for that.
“That’s a no then to your sexual services?” Tameron joked.
I held up both of my hands, still a little short of breath. “I never want to hear the term sexual services used in combination with my name ever again, thank you very much. You guys are like my brothers, so to quote Creek: ‘Ew, no.’”
“You’re the one who started it,” Creek said, and while he wasn’t wrong, I had zero intention of handing him that victory.
“Yeah, whatever. Still a veto from me.”
Bean patted my knee affectionately. “Glad to hear you still think of us as your little brothers.”
“Always,” I assured him. “And nothing will ever change that.”
“And now you have another little brother in Forest,” Creek said because, apparently, it was torture-Nash-until-he-chokes-or-confesses-his-sins day.
Kill. Me. Now.
“Yes,” I said weakly. “Sort of.”
Creek’s eyes narrowed. Oh fuck. “What do you mean, sort of?”
“He obviously doesn’t have the same relationship with Forest as he does with us.” Tameron came to my aid, and I could’ve kissed him—though that would’ve restarted the whole sexual services discussion. “He’s only known him for a short time, and we’ve all served together for years.”
Creek slowly nodded. “The whole brothers-in-arms thing is different,” he agreed.
“How are things in the bar?” Tameron asked Bean, and if I didn’t know better, it seemed hehadpicked up on something being off with me and was rescuing me once again.
Bean whipped out his little black book, though the current version was actually red. He made detailed notes every day about everything important, knowing that he’d otherwise forget. “I’m still loving my job, and Zayd is giving me more and more freedom,” he said, flipping through the pages. “We addedcioppinoto the menu, and it’s selling really well. It’s a seafoodstew,” he explained when Tameron looked puzzled, then held up his book to Tameron to show how it was spelled. Learning ASL was too hard for Bean with his brain injury, even finger-spelling. “It’s actually a recipe that originates in this area and is made with local seafood, like Dungeness crab. It’s served with sourdough bread.”
In response, my stomach rumbled. “That sounds amazing,” I said. “I’ll stop by sometime soon to try it.”
“Heath and I had it last weekend after we went surfing, and it’s delicious,” Creek said.
Bean frowned. “You were at the bar?”
“Yeah, last Sunday around two p.m. I wrote it down for you in your book.”
Creek was not known for his patience, but even he had endless understanding for Bean’s issues. Bean dutifully flipped back to that day, then nodded. “You wrote you loved it, and that the bread was amazing.” He looked up at Creek. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“And you, Creek? Still content in the Army?” I checked.
Combat duty was out of the question, considering he was an amputee, but he’d switched roles to being a recruiter, and it fit him strangely well.
Creek leaned back in his chair. “I’ve decided to retire once my twenty years are up. I’m done.”
