Wolf shrugged. “Reckoned that was nicer than sayin’ you’re pantin’ after her because she’s sexy in a girl-next-door way that makes most men dream about doin’ extremely naughty things to her.”
Mason felt his expression turn sinister.
“Whoa there, brother.” Wolf lifted his hands. “Not sayin’I’mone of those men.”
“I don’t pant.” Mason trulyhatedthis conversation. “’Cause I’m not a dog. And I’m only interested in her for her brain and its ability to help us find theSanta Cristina. If anything’s sexy, it’s her frontal lobe.”
Wolf curled his lip. “Gross.”
“Ya-huh,” Mason admitted. “Sounded better in my head.”
“Most self-delusion does,” Wolf quipped, and before Mason could tell his former swim partner to go eat a big, steaming pile of unseasoned shit, Wolf added, “ Look, man, you want Alex. You know it. I know it. Anyone with eyes in their head knows it.”
So much for my whole stony-faced fighting-man persona, Mason thought crossly.
“So why don’t you do us all a favor,” Wolf went on, “and quit pretendin’ otherwise?”
Why indeed? Mason could think of at least a dozen reasons. But he pretended the question was rhetorical and, instead of answering, let his gaze roam around the room.
Like most establishments on this island at the end of the Florida Keys, the bar—with its kitschy ship’s wheel and cheap, strong drinks—was filled with two kinds of people. Those nursing a hangover from the night before. And those who were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eagerly discussing their plans for the day while partaking of the hotel’s complimentary breakfast buffet.
Key West was unique in that it attracted, in equal measure, fun-seeking tourists and those looking to fall off the map at the end of the road. It wasn’t at all odd to see a cheery-cheeked suburban-mom-on-vacation sitting next to a grizzled old barefoot sea dog.
Just one of the things Mason liked about it. Reminded him of his hometown. In the Hub of the Universe, the Ivy Leaguers could often be found rubbing elbows with the tough crowd from the Lower End, especially when they were all rooting for the Sox or the B’s.
“That wasn’t rhetorical,” Wolf said, and Mason imagined how gratifying it would feel to plant a fist in his friend’s mouth.
But the better angels of his nature won out, and instead of inflicting bodily harm, he said, “You know after what happened with Sarah, I’ve sworn off the fairer sex.”
“Please.” Wolf snorted. “You may have the others fooled into thinkin’ you’re runnin’ some sort of one-man masturbation marathon, but I know you get your wick dipped every time we come to town. You’re just secretive about it. Why is that?” Wolf leaned back to study him. “Worried we’ll scare off your potential bed partners by tellin’ them about your itty-bitty baby penis?”
Something to understand about Navy SEALs—orretiredNavy SEALs as was their case—was that their job forced them to make really big, reallyadultdecisions on a daily basis. When it came to their humor, as an escape from all those really big, really adult decisions, they tended to harken back to their middle school years. The size of another man’s dick being a favorite butt of their jokes.
“See,” Mason said with a laconic shrug, happy to be off the topic of Alex, “I might be offended, butIknow thatyouknow that’s just not true. You’ve seen it.”
Wolf faked a shudder. “Don’t remind me. Ugliest damn thing ever housed behind a zipper.”
Mason smirked. “Like most things, they’re cute when they’re small. But when they’re big? I meanreallybig?”
Wolf laughed and clapped him on the back.
After a while, Mason added, “And it’s noteverytime we come to Key West. Besides, what I have with Donna is different from what Alex is proposing I have with her.”
Alex…
Damn.And just like that, they were back on his least favorite subject.
“Donna, huh? That’s her name?” Wolf chewed thoughtfully on his cocktail straw. “Okie dokie, so I’ll bite. Why is what you have with the mysterious Donna different from what you could have with Alex?”
“’Cause Donna’s fine with what I’m offering—a mutual scratching of itches when I’m here, and radio silence when I’m not. She’s not after anything permanent.”
A line appeared between Wolf’s eyebrows. “What makes you think Alex is?”
The look Mason sent Wolf broadcast just how silly he thought the question was. “She’s twenty-seven years old and still a virgin.”
Virgin…Saying the word aloud made it resonate within his skull like theboomsheard around Boston Common when the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company of Massachusetts held their annual change of command ceremony and set off simulated cannon shots. He found himself shaking his head for the hundredth time because…How the fuck is it possible to be a twenty-seven-year-old virgin in today’s day and age?
The bartender set a sweating glass of vodka and Bloody Mary mix in front of Wolf. The cocktail perfumed the air with the scent of hot sauce and celery salt. And it came with so many garnishes, Mason decided Wolf could skip the breakfast buffet.
