18. Casanova and The Dirty Blonde
Casanova and The Dirty Blonde
CARTER
All around us, patrons hooted and hollered, rowdy and inebriated inside The FlatHatter, the dive bar everyone from the base liked to frequent.
I tipped my beer bottle to my lips before quickly shielding my face as Tatum threw a spray of peanut shells at me. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Casanova?”
“Aww Blaze, I can’t help it if I’m just better than you.
” I chuckled with a condescending shrug, but I was more than glad to have a flight training week to be back at home with my OG flight squad.
Most of my covert tactical missions were spent with people that I never really got the chance to know.
Mostly because the team was rotating, but sometimes, and it was becoming all too frequent—I was bringing my team members back in a long box.
One of these days, I wondered if it would be me.
“You wish.” Tatum popped another peanut into his mouth with a roll of his eyes.
“Can I get you boys anything else?” The smiley, red-headed waitress asked, folding her now empty serving tray under her arm.
“How about your number?” Ezra Williams asked with a flirtatious wink.
The waitress smiled. “I’ll do you one better. I’m off in five.”
“It’s a date.” Ezra crooned.
“Or you could go out with me .” Mike Rochester grinned with his oh so charming smile. “I promise to show you a better time than this loser.” He hooked a thumb at Ezra.
“You don’t want him, Gorgeous—you know what they call him up there,” Ezra grinned, ready to drop his next insult, “ Grandma. ”
“At least I’m not hot off the block.” Mike countered, adding with a smirk, addressing the waitress again. “This guy wants to get to the end as fast as possible, and me, well, I’m incredibly patient. In fact, I prefer taking my time. ”
“Don’t you two make an interesting pair,” the waitress laughed and walked away, tossing her hair over her shoulder casually. “Why choose? You’re both invited.” Ezra and Mike looked at each other, a silent question passing between them.
“Fuck.” I muttered. “You two have fun with that.” They both stood up at the same time and grabbed their jackets in agreement.
“Have fun in Paris.” Tatum called after them with a shake of his head. “Shit, that’s either going to make things really funny or really fucking awkward tomorrow.”
I chuckled, feeling fingers walking around my shoulder, before a hand slid into the base of my hair.
“Hey soldier.” A sultry voice purred into my ear, and then a bleach-blonde woman came around my side, fiddling with her necklace, not so subtly drawing attention to her cleavage. “Looking for a good time tonight?”
“I’m good, thanks.” I smiled politely.
She scrunched up her nose. “Come on, it could be fun.” She made a pouty face.
“You might try that table over there.” I nodded toward another crew that I knew would definitely take her up on the offer.
She hopped up on her tiptoes and pulled herself into my lap, nearly knocking over my beer bottle.
I grabbed it before it spilled, tensing as she threaded her arms around my neck and leaned into my ear.
“What if I’m not interested in them? What if you ’re the one I had my eye on?
” Tatum shot me a look, like come on, she’s hot.
I threw Tatum a roll of my eyes before addressing the woman. “Sorry, ma’am, I gotta wife back home.” I said, putting a little twang in my voice for Tatum’s benefit.
“I don’t see a ring.” She scrunched her nose in annoyance. “Don’t break my heart. I don’t think I could take it. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She wiggled in my lap, and I flinched, grabbing her wrist as she slid her hand down, down, down.
Tatum stifled a laugh.
“Sorry, I’m really not interested.” I gently pushed her out of my lap to stand, and I flinched when one of her nails pricked the back of my neck in protest.
She scowled. “Whatever. Your loss.” She left, putting extra sway in her hips as she stomped off.
“What the hell?” I rubbed my neck. “She scratched me.” I pulled my hand away, half expecting blood.
Tatum burst into laughter. “I gotta wife back home.” He mimicked me in a feminine, twangy accent, clutching his hands together. Which looked utterly ridiculous, given his size and stature.
“I don’t know, okay.” I chuckled. “She wasn’t getting the memo.”
Tatum shrugged. “Looked like it could have been a good time.”
“Maybe.” I murmured, knocking back the last of my beer.
“Listen, I know you’ve got a thing for your sweetheart back home or whatever, but my man, you’ve gotta get laid from time to time.”
“Sara is not my sweetheart.” My jaw flexed as I begrudgingly admitted it.
“Semantics.” He countered, “And if she’s really not, then there’s nothing stopping you from selecting something off the menu.” He turned and motioned around the bar at the countless women, many of them specifically on the hunt to pick up a guy from the base. “How long has it been anyway?”
“I don’t keep track.” I gritted.
“Better get back on the horse before your dick falls off.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.” I noticed the blonde was still watching me from across the bar with a scowl.
“Dude, you got it bad.” Tatum shook his head. “You gotta lock that shit down, otherwise you’re gonna be miserable.”
“It’s not like that.” I shrugged.
“What’s it like then?”
“She’s just a family friend.” That I possibly love. “Besides, her brother would kill me.”
“You sure about that?” He sipped his beer.
“Yeah.” I nodded emphatically. I really was. Losing Liam as a friend was not an option. I couldn’t afford to gamble our friendship on something like this, especially when Sara hadn’t really responded to any of my advances.
We flirted, sure, but over her birthday it’d just been a game.
Something to cheer her up. When it came down to it, I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
Didn’t want to push her away again. Besides, I was here, and she was there.
It wasn’t even remotely practical. I shook my head, wondering why I was even considering it.
Friends. That’s what Sara was, my friend .
“Whatever, man, your blue balls, not mine.”
I sighed, trying not to think about it at all. “And how is long distance treating you?” I asked pointedly.
“It fucking sucks.” He rolled his eyes. “But what are you gonna do? She’s the love of my life and all.”
“Didn’t know you were so sappy.” I picked at the paper label on my beer bottle, feeling sorry for myself.
“Neither did I.” He scoffed, standing to stretch his arms over his head. “Next rounds on me.”
I wondered how Sara was doing after earlier. Wondered if she’d pick up the phone if I called. It was definitely worth a shot. “Actually, I’m gonna head out.” I stood and grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair, hoping for the best.
“Suit yourself.”
I swung my jacket around my head, slipping it on. “See you tomorrow.”
“Drive safe.” Tatum called, pushing through the crowd towards the bar.
The drive home was relatively short, and I blinked my eyes, trying to keep them open. It was only eight, and I was surprisingly tired. I was always a little worn out after combat training, but tonight I felt totally out of it.
I parked my Tesla outside my apartment. Surprised when I got out to see, I’d parked on the line, like a total schmuck.
I shook my head, feeling a little dizzy, and decided to leave it for the night as I climbed the stairs, heading for my second-floor apartment.
I definitely wasn’t drunk. I’d only had one beer, but maybe I was dehydrated?
Flying at mock speeds was pretty strenuous on the body.
I’d drink some electrolytes before I went to bed, maybe use some of that magnesium lotion Charlotte had talked me into getting last summer.
Staying in peak physical performance was a top priority for me, and I wasn’t against supplementing where I needed to.
I fumbled with my keys, cursing as I dropped them on the ground. It took me three tries to get the door open, and when I finally did, my skin pricked, finally realizing there was actually something wrong. This wasn’t exhaustion at all.
I blinked, staring at my hand as I gripped the door handle, watching it blur in front of me. What the hell was wrong with me?
Before I had time to consider, or even step inside, I suddenly became aware of a large presence looming behind me, and a millisecond later a bag went over my head. I whirled to throw a punch, but I realized I was about to be in deep shit—because I was already moving in slow motion.