If not forever, and/or a trip to London, whichever came first.
“So if you really don’t mind going by yourself,” Dave added.
“It’s not a problem,” Rio told him.
“Other than Jon being there, it’ll be a pretty easy gig,” Dave said. “Kinda fun, too. I’ve done it before—it’s mostly crowd-control. Standing and glaring at anyone who looks like they might have boundary issues. I think in all of the times I’ve gone to things like this with Casey, I only had to lay hands on someone once—some idiot was drunk and tried to grab her. I shoved him back, that was it. Con security swooped in, and got him out of there. Most cons have pretty good security teams. In truth, she’d probably be fine if you don’t want to—”
“Yeah, but I do,” Rio interrupted. “She clearly wants someone she trusts, and it does sound fun. Plus everyone’s always trying to get me to take time off—”
“Senior Chief!” The crisp words made Rio turn, expecting to see the Senior standing there, out on the grinder with them. But it was just Thomas speaking into his cell phone. “Lieutenant King. Petty Officer Rosetti would like to take some extended leave, this Wednesday until...” He raised his eyes as he looked at Rio.
“Friday.”
Thomas made a seriously face, rapidly shaking his head like a pitcher shaking off a catcher’s suggestion. “Let’s say next Tuesday—give him the whole week.”
“What? No! I don’t want a week,” Rio said, but Thomas frowned and held up a finger, bringing it to his mouth in a shushing motion as he listening to Senior Chief Becker, who was no doubt making noises of triumphant jubilation on the other end of the line.
“I don’t need a week,” Rio insisted.
“You could stay in Palm Springs,” Dave pointed out. “It’s pretty nice. Do you golf?”
Rio turned to look at him. “In what universe do I golf?”
Dave just laughed. “You could learn.”
“Done,” Thomas said hanging up the phone, “and done. Senior’ll have the paperwork ready to go by the time we get back from our run.”
Rio tried adding a little respect-for-an-officer into his request. “LT, thank you, but a week’s much too—”
“Tash!” Thomas had already dialed his wife’s number and was grinning his ass off as he relayed the info about the success at the wedding and Rio’s upcoming trip to Palm Springs, adding, “Dave’s fake boyfriend’s gonna need more clothes.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Rio said, but he was not wrong.
“Yup,” Thomas was agreeing with whatever Tash was telling him. “At least three days. Shorts that don’t have cammo print, absolutely.” He grinned at Rio. “She says she knows your sizes now. She’ll swing past the mall this afternoon.” He hung up and slipped his phone into the front pocket of his cargo shorts. “That’ll make it a little less painful.”
“Are you kidding?” Rio asked. “If I’m not there to say oh hell no...?”
“She was not wrong about the suit,” Dave pointed out mildly.
Thomas pulled out his phone again. “You want me to call her back, so you can go shopping with her...?” He laughed at the look that was on Rio’s face. “I didn’t think so.” The phone went back into his pocket,
“You’re gonna have fun.” Dave finally finished his careful stretching and pulled himself up to his feet, bouncing a bit to warm up. “You’ll go to a lot of really great restaurants, too. Casey doesn’t play when it comes to good food. And maybe if you ask, she’ll play nine holes with you.” He laughed. “In your new Kelly-green-plaid golfing shorts.” He laughed at Rio’s horrified expression of Tasha wouldn’t really do that to him, would she, then aimed his words at Thomas. “Ready, sir?”
“I been ready for a while, Patterson.” Thomas briskly clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this! Let’s go!”
But Rio was already texting a message to Tasha: NOTHING KELLY GREEN OR PLAID.
He quickly wrote a second text: Please and TY.
And then, since Thomas and Dave were already way out in front of him, he scrolled through his contacts for the Senior Chief and placed the call.
“Becker,” the man answered.
“Senior, it’s Rosetti. About that leave that Lieutenant King called you about—”
“I can easily make it two weeks,” the Senior said.
Was that... a threat...? Rio said, “Um...”
