Doc was a man on a mission to drown his sorrows in a pitcher of beer and the willing ministrations of any woman who’d have him. Considering the guy stood nearly six and half feet tall, with shoulders that stretched about that wide, there wereplentyof ladies to choose from. The buxom beauty who’d introduced herself as Candy had simply been the first to respond once Doc deployed his patented Dalton “Doc” Simmons sexual allure arsenal.
“You go on,” Doc told Romeo over his shoulder before pulling the toothpick from his mouth and drawling to Candy, “That’s an amazing dress.” His scratchy voice made him sound like he smoked a pack a day even though Romeo had never seen him take so much as a puff. “What do you say to me taking it off you later?”
Romeo rolled his eyes, expecting Candy to either giggle and smack Doc on the arm, or get offended and stalk off in a huff. He was surprised when, instead, she came back with, “Funny. I was just thinking how good that shirt looks on you. Not as good asIwould look on you, but still.”
Doc sputtered and tugged his ear, a sure sign he’d been caught off guard.
Romeo was a little surprised, too. In his experience, women with names likeCandyweren’t usually known for lightning-fast repartee.
The couple exchanged another volley of cringe-worthy pickup lines, and Romeo took that as his cue to vamoose himself. Of course, before he left, he gave himself an imaginary pat on the back for a wingman job well done.
Grabbing his glass of Don Julio straight up—because that’s how his grandmotherhad taught him to drink it—he slipped off the barstool and made his way toward his friends.
Friends, friends, Mia and I are friends,he reminded himself for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
The hot, humid air was ripe with the smell of spilled beer and the slightly fishy aroma wafting in from the nearby marina. A three-man band played sea shanties on the little stage in the corner. And outside, the stars sparkled like cut diamonds across the black underbelly of the night sky.
All around him, people danced drunkenly, conversed loudly, and laughed heartily despite sunburned noses and wind-chapped lips.
Key West...ain’t she grand?
Never once could he remember having a bad time while visiting the island. The Conch Republic had a way of forcing a person to kick off their shoes, shove their toes in the sand, and slow way,waydown—preferably with a drink in hand.
He took a sip of tequila while side-stepping a drunk who tried coaxing a recalcitrant woman out of her seat and onto the dance floor. If the look on the woman’s face was anything to go by, the last thing she wanted was to cut a rug with a guy who couldn’t pronounce his S’s without sounding like a snake. But neither did she want to make a scene, so she was trying topolitelytell the dude to go row, row, row his boat gently the hell on out of her line of sight.
Not your business, Romeo told himself because he had a bad habit of starting stuff with bombed-out barflies who thought downing five or six shooters gave them a good excuse to act like dickwads.
When he realized the harried woman had four friends with her—they’d been at the bar ordering drinks while she saved the table—he hastened his steps toward Mia and company, comforted by the thought that,between the five of them, they can more than handle this annoying alcohooligan.
Mia must’ve felt his approach.
She turned and the instant those fascinating eyes of hers collided with his, some invisible bastard slugged him in the gut. Like, for real though, he couldn’t breathe, and the tequila threatened to return for an encore performance.
He managed what he hoped looked like a friendly smile—we’re friends; she’s my friend. And he was able to utter a hoarse “thanks” when she pulled out a chair in wordless invitation.
“You done playing Doc’s support brah?” Alex quipped after he’d taken a seat.
Alexandra Merriweather was a diminutive historian and expert inprocesal—the script used in the old Spanish Colonial documents. She’d been key in helping the Deep Six Salvage crew find the final resting place of theSanta Cristina. She was also a bookworm, a motor-mouth, and a wunderkind when it came to random bits of trivia.
Did you know only female mosquitoes bite? Did you know Aristotle had a stutter? Did you know 270 characters died in the seriesBreaking Bad?
Romeo had learned all of that from Alex. Which would have been more than enough to endear her to him, because he liked inane information as much as the next guy. That she’d also convinced Mason to take a second chance on romance when the man had sworn to live the rest of his life loveless and lonely?Thathad made Romeo absolutelyloveher.
“The key to being a great wingman,” he told her with a wink, “is knowing when to fly away.”
She snorted. Then her brow wrinkled as she glanced toward the bar and Doc’s broad back. “What’s up with him anyway? I’ve never seen him pass up dessert.”
They’d been downing dinner at Pepe’s Cafe—a hole-in-the-wall that was as popular with the locals as it was with the tourists because once you got past its ramshackle appearance, you realized the food was outstanding. But when their waiter came by to ask if they wanted slices of Key lime pie to finish off their meal, Doc had pushed back from the table and declared his intention to head to the bar to, quote,“Find a lovely lady who’ll want to add my banana to her fruit salad.”
Like so many of Romeo’s former SEAL Team buddies and current business partners, Doc had a truly inventive way with words.
The look of disappointment on Mia’s face when it seemed she’d have to skip dessert had nearly broken Romeo’s heart. And since he’d needed a breath of fresh air after having spent the entire meal ignoring the fireworks going off in his groin because his knee had been touching hers under the snug little table, he’d volunteered to head out with Doc while she and the others indulged their sweet tooths.
Sweet teeth?
Whatever. The point was, he’d been happy to play the part of Doc’s wingman not only because it meant Mia got her pie, but also because, “Today’s an unhappy anniversary for Doc,” he explained to Alex.
Her freckled nose wrinkled. “Is it? Nobody ever talks about—”
