Bree glanced at Denise, who gave a little shrug. “Sure, why not?”
“I’m Bree, by the way. This is Denise.” Bree indicated to Denise with her drink.
“Nice to meet you. Follow me.” He took Bree’s free hand and led them toward the group of guys he had been standing with when they first noticed him. Bree turned to Denise and mouthedoh my godas he led them to a couple of tables set against the far wall. All the guys were good-looking, well-built, and hovering around the six-foot-tall range. It was like a real-life hot-guy calendar shoot — just with more clothes. Jase introduced Bree and Denise to the guys standing around the two tables.
“This a normal Friday night for you guys?” Denise asked.
Nate leaned a tattooed arm against the table, turning full to Denise. “Brandon’s celebrating separating from the Army.”
Gary leaned around him. “We’re here most Fridays.”
Bree bit her lip, watching the subtle posturing as the two guys fought for Denise’s attention. This should be interesting. A hand slid across the small of her back and a hot body stepped close to her side. The top of her head barely reached his chin. Used to being the same height as, if not taller than, most men, standing next to Jase she felt…dainty.
“Do you want another drink?” he asked.
She looked at her almost empty glass. “Think I’ll switch to beer. We’ve already had a few.” She peeked up at him through her lashes. Nervousness fluttered in her belly.
Jeez, he’s hot.
When was the last time a guy had flirted with her? Really flirted with her, not just came on to her?
The waitress came by and Jase added a beer to the order.
“You seriously never heard of Papa’s Pizza?” Denise’s question caught her attention.
“What about Papa’s Pizza?” she asked.
Denise pointed a finger between two of the guys. “They were at Victory around the same time we were.”
“Really?”
“The only pizza place was the crappy one at the exchange. You sure it was on Camp Victory?” Gary asked.
“Swear.” Denise raised her hand, palm out. “We went every Sunday for lunch. Hand-tossed, deep dish.”
“Where on Victory?” Brandon challenged her.
Jase’s hand brushed against the side of her neck, pushing a strand of hair off her shoulder, and she lost interest in conversation again. Tingles raced along her skin, chasing after his fingers. It was becoming a familiar sensation. He’d found little ways to touch her since he took her hand at the bar. A hand smoothing along the curve of her hip. Leaning down to speak softly in her ear. Every simple touch felt like a brand on her skin. It left her hot. Needy.
“You’re kidding,” Evan said.
Bree pulled her attention back to the group. “What’s up?”
“The brawl between the third country nationals behind the chow hall,” Denise explained.
“Oh yeah,” Bree said. “It was like something out of a movie. Pans, knives, chains, metal pipes. All that was missing was Michael Jackson’s Beat It playing in the background.”
“Seriously?” Jase said.
“Yup. Took security forces close to an hour to break it up,” Denise said. “Two guys ended up dying.”
Bree set her glass on the table. “Excuse me. Need to use the facilities. You need to go?” she asked Denise.
“I’m good. Unless you need me to guide the way.”
“Big neon sign. Think I can find it.”
A blonde in a cleavage-baring halter top left the bathroom as she pushed open the door. She gave Bree a once over and sneered.
