Or at least, his one for the night. Knowing Lyons, there would be two and maybe even three.
THREE
Shower
Tia had grownup on and in water. Never in her life had she had a lack of it until arriving to the heat and desolation of Afghanistan. Here, water became a precious resource. In the field, it was used only for cooking, hydration, and washing hands. Mostly, they used gels to keep their hands clean. The alcohol was hell and only cracked already dry skin. That would be one other thing she would need to pick up at the exchange. Baby wipes, hand gel, and lotion. Baby wipes might seem like an odd item to stock on a forward-deployed base, but baby wipes not only kept babies smelling fresh and clean; they were also perfect for a quick field shower. One swipe of her face, pits, crotch, and ass, and she was as good as new.
Lyons jogged up behind her. “You know,” he said, “a shower sounds nice.”
“Just so long as you take yours separate from mine,” she teased.
“That eager to be rid of me? No scrub-a-dub-dub?”
“Aren’t you sick of me by now?”
“You can’t call dibs on showers. I need one, too.”
Her mind turned to things that should never happen, harmless fantasies best left in her head. He was simply following her into the showers, and in Bagram, they not only had separate showers for the men and women; they also had separate facilities.
There was no doubt Lyons was focused on what his evening might bring and the ladies he intended to lure into his bed. He had no interest in her. His nighttime goal would be a challenging proposition, considering he would be bunking with several other men. As an officer and one of the few on base, her temporary living facilities would be private. His would not.
They separated where the signs said women to the right and men to the left.
“Catch you later, T,” he called out.
“Sure,” she said, but the chances of them running into each other before morning report was slim to none. Officers and enlisted simply didn’t hang out together. “I’ll catch you later.” It was the easiest way to get rid of him.
The water ran a muddy brown for several minutes as dirt sluiced off her body. Soap being a luxury, she held it close to her face, sniffing the light floral scent. She hadn’t had any of her own, but the woman showering in the stall next to her had let her borrow the bar of soap.
She sighed underneath the water, lathered up her skin, and used way more soap than necessary in her hair. It could be a few weeks before she had the pleasure of a real shower again. Running her hands down her body, she worried about the rigors of her job. She’d lost weight again. Her percentage of body fat had to be pushing under ten percent. It was probably less than that. She was all lean muscles; it was a miracle she still had boobs. She’d been graced with a narrow waist and a graceful flare of her hips. If she lost her boobs, her silhouette would be decidedly boyish. She might live in a man’s world, but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like one—or worse, have the body of a prepubescent boy.
However, it was simply too hard, keeping up with her nutritional needs and the calories required to keep her weight in check. Her boobs had shrunk in the past week, and she felt the extra fabric gaping in her bra. It might be time to downsize to a B-cup. Yet another thing to add to her shopping list: new bras.
To be at the top of her game, she couldn’t afford to lose any more muscle mass. The chow hall would have to be her next stop. While here, she was going to load up on as much protein and carbs as she could stomach.
A quick trip to lodging, and she checked into her room. It wasn’t private. The converted cargo container had been outfitted with two bunks, and there was already someone else’s stuff tossed on the bottom bed. With a sigh, she placed her ruck on the floor and then opened it and inventoried the contents, checking her list of what needed resupply.
Her team would meet after breakfast. At the hospital, they would restock and debrief their last mission. She would check on the men they’d taken care of, if they were still there. The aeromedical evacuation system worked with brisk efficiency and was notorious for speedy transport. If there was a transport out tonight, both men would be on it, headed to Germany for definitive care.
After inventorying her supplies, she sat back and debated on what to do after chow. Despite the hustle and bustle of Bagram, there really wasn’t much to keep someone occupied. Of course, there was a gym, but she didn’t look forward to working out. One, she’d simply get sweaty again. Two, her entire job was one nonstop workout. She was in top shape, and not to brag, but she’d turned more eyes than Lyons on that short walk to the showers.
He was right; the men outnumbered the women nearly twenty, thirty, forty to one. Any way she counted, there were a lot more men than women. If she were so inclined, her bed could be filled with a stream of men. Fortunately, she had a devoted man waiting at home.
It was still late night for Scott. She’d have to wait a little longer before trying to call. As much as she looked forward to seeing him, messing with his sleep wasn’t worth it. Not when she could wait a few hours.
Chow hall first, and then she’d figure out the rest of her day. Not that she was particularly hungry, but she needed to replace the calories burned on that last mission. Lugging a seventy-pound pack was hard enough. Running with it? That was another matter.
Never empty, the mess hall was the nerve center of the base. It was a place to kick back and cut loose from the rigors of the day. Boisterous male voices rolled through the place. Most tables were full, except for a few at the far edges. At the fringes, individuals sat, usually with laptops in place. They ate with the crowd while hiding from it, too. Not surprisingly, many of them were officers. Most surprising, Lyons and Warren occupied an entire table by themselves. Warren had a laptop in front of him. Where he’d appropriated a laptop would probably be an interesting story. Out of the entire team, he seemed the most resourceful, trading favors for favors.
She got in line and made her way through, piling her tray heavily with meats and carbs, not asking too many questions about what the food might be. Then, she angled over to the table with her team.
Lyons eyed the room. No doubt he was gauging his potential conquests for the night. Odd that he didn’t have a woman draped over his arm by now. He spotted her, and his gaze meandered over her body, a head-to-toe examination that was at once cursory and entirely too inquisitive. With a sigh, she closed the distance.
Instead of some comment about her appearance, Lyons settled for a quiet chin bump. She sat across from him and beside Warren. Warren had earbuds shoved in his ears and a wide smile plastered on his face. The screen showed the delicate features of his wife and two rambunctious boys playing in the background.
Tia leaned over and waved to the screen. “Hi, Lily!”
She couldn’t hear Lily’s response, but Warren’s wife gave her a wave. Warren’s smile grew broader, and he spoke into the microphone, passing along the message. This left Tia to stare across the table at Lyons.
