Blondie looked like he might argue, but eventually shared a dissatisfied look with Barbie before dropping into his chair with a bitter huff.
Tic just continued smiling at me as he pumped out rep after rep. With another one of those twitch-like winks, he clumsily added, “She can earn—” He faltered mid-rep. “There’s a—I have a place for her.”
I somehow managed to hold back an eye roll when he held out an arm, hex dumbbell and all, to his side. Definitely harmless.
Most of the guys snorted at the embarrassing attempt at hitting on me. Briggs uttered a definitive, “No.”
Expecting it to continue, I cut my attention to the final two, who had watched the entire conversation play out with amusement pouring from them. But the giant Viking of a man closest to me just dipped his head in what I could only assume was approval for the way I’d kept my composure.
Something else I could thank my dad and brothers for. Defending myself with pointless arguments only made me look weaker, and I refused to look weak in front of anyone.
My mom didn’t count.
The guy standing beside the Viking leaned forward and stretched out a tattooed arm. “Thatcher. Everyone calls me Thatch.”
“Monroe,” I unnecessarily told him as I shook his hand.
A mischievous look settled over his face as he glanced between me and the obnoxious duo. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and saynotlike Marilyn?”
“Not at all,” I confirmed.
“Noted,” he said with a smile that grew considerably wider just as the Viking released a wary sigh and muttered, “Here we go.”
“Y’all shouldn’t have,” a new man said from behind me with a voice that was as deep as it was smooth. His drawl was filled with barely-leashed amusement when he continued. “It isn’t even my birthday yet.”
I bristled at the implication but kept my stare straight ahead.
“Ma’am,” he continued in a low, murmured tone that said he knew exactly how to use that voice for his gain—unlike poor Tic. “Now, who are—” His words cut off and his expression fell when I broke, allowing my head to snap in his direction.
And I hated that I felt my features do the same.
Fall.
It wasn’t just that he was unreasonably handsome; I’d grown up around plenty of attractive guys, thanks to my brothers and the Navy. No, it was something in the flare of the mint green eyes locked on me, making my heart flutter and my stomach drop. It was something about the way his head tilted just slightly, almost as if he was trying to remember where he knew me from, making me want to reach out and smooth the furrow of his brow. But that wasn’t something I could allow myself, and I was sure I’d never seen him before.
I would’ve remembered him. I would’ve remembered this feeling.
“Who are you?” he finally asked, the corner of his mouth tipping up and teasing me with a dimple. But the way he asked then wasn’t the same way he’d originally started asking.
Before, it’d been obnoxious teasing. Now, it was as if he needed to know.
And I needed to look away from him.
My mouth pulled into a frown as my dad’s harsh voice floated through my mind.
“The opposite sex is a distraction. Feelings are a distraction. Wanting someone is a distraction. Relationships are a distraction.”
Between team members? Absolutely not. Not only would it make both of us liabilities—as Blondie had called me earlier—because we’d be more worried about the other than the mission, but there was always the risk that one of us wouldn’t make it.
I forced my stare away just as Briggs answered, “She’s our new eighth,” without ever looking up. “And I’d stop if I were you.”
The new guy playfully hushed Briggs, easily slipping back into the same, insufferable tone from when he’d walked up. “Currently talking to an angel.”
“Don’t call me that.” The words snapped from me as my narrowed stare all too willingly returned to the final member of the team.
“Okay, Princess,” he said, unfazed.
“I’ll kill you.”
