These two have shared women. I shake my head. “Tammy’s off-limits.” I lifted the name off the badge. It sounds cute. I could say it for a while, a year, two, till I die maybe? Hm. My brain is computing, and the fuckers are still yapping at me.
“Oh, come on, Cap,” Dawson says.
“I’m serious.”
“Why?”
“My ex,” I lie. “Went to same high school.”
“You haven’t been here since then.”
“So?”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“Again, so?” I bark a bit, agitated that he wants to bang the waitress. Not that I blame him. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, even when she looks beat for the day. While she took our orders, I didn’t check her hands for a ring, but I’m fairly certain she’s married. Women her age generally are, and that’s also another reason my team should stay away from her.
We’re not here for drama, not when we bought homes in the new developments in the same zip code.
The girl takes a while to come back. The guys and I shoot the shit, and I yawn, barely keeping my eyes open. Nonstop for days, we rode in U-Hauls and drag-along trailers from California to here and rested only when we got into town, which was, oh, about four hours ago, two hours before Dawson woke everyone up and got us into the diner for breakfast.
I’m fucking starving, haven’t even had coffee yet, and I’m growing a little irritated that Tammy kept us waiting over twenty minutes before she even checked in. Now it’s been at least fifteen since she took the order. I have a feeling because the diner is full and we’re a large party, this is gonna take forever. I hate waiting or sitting still in one place for too long without having things to do.
But I’m gonna behave. I really am.
I check my watch and take stock of my men, who are also growing grumpier by the minute. Twenty minutes pass, and Tammy’s not back yet. I tap my fingers on the table. She’s busy.Even if she were married, I’m sure she wouldn’t ignore the magic moment we had and avoid the table on purpose.
Intent on grabbing a pot of coffee and some cups, I leave the room. It feels like a bunker, with only a tiny window overlooking the mountain region that reminds me of some of the landscapes in countries I never wanna visit again. I walk into the main diner and see my waitress chatting up a single dude in a suit sitting at the second table to the left of the door.
She’s smiling as she talks. I walk by her, straight to the counter where another waitress is talking to the chef in the kitchen. On the counter is a tray with two coffeepots and seven cups, one full, with a narrow orange straw sticking out of it. “This for me?” I ask the rhetorical question and take the tray, then move back toward our room, eyes on the man my waitress is talking to. He looks like a dude I’d call a Suit. Behind her, I stop and lean in, then whisper in her ear, “Kitten, did you forget about me?”
Ah fuck, she smells like small-town Christmas, vanilla sex and sweet orange-blossom shampoo, laughter, and every dream I held on to but never experienced while overseas hiding behind the dirt and rocks of Afghanistan executing missions for my country.
She freezes, and I linger far longer than appropriate for a man who might be hitting on a married woman. I take my eyes off her ear, which I wanna bite, and glare at the pretty boy in the suit. He catches my glare and lifts an eyebrow. Bitch, please, I eat suits for breakfast.
“I got my own coffee, Kitten,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk away. I never quite grew out of that fifteen-year-old asshole with the hots for small-town girls with big tits. She’s mine, even if I have to kill the Suit and her husband.
“Looks like I’ll be shooting people soon,” I announce as I put the tray of coffee at the end of the table. I pour a cup for myself,then look up at six pairs of eyes all staring at something behind me. I turn to see Tammy there, arms crossed.
“I was on my way,” she says.
“You seem to have made a rest stop before you executed your coffee mission. There’s no rest while the mission is incomplete. Isn’t that right, boys?”
“Aye, Captain,” my boys answer, then laugh.
I pour the coffee for all my guys when she rounds me. I feel her glare on my face, but I ignore it and walk around the table to sit back in my place. Elbows on the table, I sip my black coffee. It’s excellent, and I moan as if she’s already sucking my dick. “Mmmmm.”
Tammy stands at the end of the table looking like she has something to say.
“Yes?” I quirk an eyebrow like the Suit. Maybe she likes that kind of stuff. Does he get his eyebrows plucked? Does she like pretty boys in suits? Too bad for her, because she’s gonna be stuck with me, and I don’t wear suits.
“Tammy!” rings from the main diner, and my waitress pinches her lips and leaves.
“Damn, that ginger girl is a screamer,” I say.
“Cap, is the ginger girl an ex too?” Dawson asks.
“Hell no. I like ’em sweet. Speaking of sweet…” I leave the rest hanging as Tammy walks back, the screaming ginger girl and the cook in tow to deliver the massive amounts of food we ordered. As she leaves, I order iced tea. Briefly, she nods, then gets on with her business, but not before I check out her ring finger. No gold band. “Got a mission,” I say and start eating.
