Jackson
“Who was that? She’s gorgeous, man.”
Chelsea hurries toward the door just as frantic as last time. I watch until she’s gone and sit down again.
“Yoohoo,” Wrench teases, waving his hand in front of my face.
“What?” I ask, swatting his arm away.
“I asked who that was.”
I glance toward the door again, watching for her return. “That was Chelsea Danforth. She leads one of Knot’s teams with Bash.”
Fish stares at me in shock. “That woman? The lady who just tore out of here like a spooked filly? What did you do to her?”
“She wasn’t spooked. She forgot her phone and ran out to get it.”
Devil shakes his head. “That woman isn’t coming back.”
“Yes, she is. She’s meeting Bastien Laurent and Birdie Crenshaw here at eight and came early for dinner.”
Now, they’re all shaking their heads and grinning. Wrench, the most obnoxiously. “You poor man.” Turning to the other two, he laughs. “He’s so out of practice he can’t read woman signals anymore.”
Wrench gets my best stink eye. “Would you shut the hell up?”
“Speaking of woman signals.” Fish teases. “How is Captain? I assumed with you being gone a month, you’d be spending the next three days making it up to her.”
“She’s at a Tides game with Caleb. It’s pup night at the park, and he wanted Captain to help him pick up girls. He’s supposed to bring her back in the morning.”
Wrench taps me with his beer. “How’s he doing? Junior year at Old Dominion has to be a big deal.”
“He’s doing great. His grades are fantastic. I can’t believe he graduates next year.”
“I can’t believe he picked a school close to his old man and that you guys go drinking together.”
Elbowing Wrench in the side, I say, “Hey, my kid happens to like his old man.”
Fish fights to hold in a laugh and fails. “I know someone who doesn’t.”
I swivel to glare at him and realize he’s staring at the door. Damn. Devil was right. Chelsea didn’t come back.
Slamming money on the table, I shove out of my seat.
Fish calls out, “Hey, I didn’t mean it. Where’re you going?”
“She’s alone at a bar. It’s dark outside. I’m going to make sure she’s alright.”
I’m only a few steps away from the table when Wrench snickers. “I don’t think I want to be here when he gets back.”
There’s not a soul in the parking lot of the Virginia Beach bar. I jog around to check the parking area on the right side of the building, but I don’t see Chelsea there either. A car door shutting out front has me running back toward the entrance, but it’s only Wrench leaving. I don’t get it. What the hell did I do?
Gravel crunches behind me, but I know who it is before he speaks.
“You alright, man?” Fish asks.
I shake my head but answer, “Yeah. I just don’t_yeah, I’m fine.” A dark chuckle rumbles through my chest. “I don’t even know what I’m doing out here.”
Devil claps me on the back. “Yes, you do, and I hope you find it.”
The two men walk on and leave to go to their families. I don’t even have my dog to go home to.
A glance at my watch shows it to be seven thirty-seven. If Chelsea is to be believed, she’s meeting Bash and Birdie here at eight. I’ve got nothing better to do, so I think I’ll hang around to see what I can learn about the skittish woman.
I jog to my truck and drive it to the farthest part of the side lot. I don’t want Bash to see it and look for me. Next, I strip off my shirt, replacing it with another from my go bag. The last thing I do is grab a ball cap from the back seat. I’m going back in, and I’m doing it incognito.
Back inside the bar, I pick a high-top along the side wall, which allows me to see most of the tables. With a fresh beer in hand, I settle in to wait and watch.
My old SEAL buddy and his girlfriend breeze through the doors about ten minutes later and take an empty table near the bar. A short time after that, Chelsea walks in, carefully scanning the room.
I duck so she won’t ID me, count to five, and lift my head again. Chelsea’s shoulders relax at whatever she’s not seeing_me, apparently_and traipses to join her colleagues. She’s not exactly all smiles, but she’s not the least bit timid, either.
With Birdie and Bash, she’s confident and authoritative. The three appear to be having a serious discussion about something.
Several minutes pass, and my curiosity gets the better of me. This is not the woman who ran out of the bar an hour ago or stuttered through her exit several weeks ago. This is the Chelsea that Bastien described.
Stepping off the stool, I circle the room, purposefully walking up behind Bash so only Chelsea will notice me. And notice me, she does.
I don’t take my eyes off her as I approach, activating her Spidey sense. Chelsea looks up, quickly finding me in the crowd. Her mouth drops open, and Bash reacts, turning around to assess the threat.
Seeing me behind him, Bash relaxes and gestures toward the empty seat at the table. “Where did you come from?”
“I was here with some of the team. You just missed them.”
Chelsea doesn’t flinch when I sit beside her, but she doesn’t not react, either. “Chelsea, long time no see. Did you find your phone?”
“I…” A myriad of emotions filter through Chelsea’s eyes before her walls come up and a Cheshire grin lights up her face. She’s almost convincing, but the slight tremor in her fingers gives her away. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”
Chelsea catches me staring at her fidgeting digits and lowers her arms from the table. Her sharp tongue draws my eyes upward again to see her taking in my change in attire. “Did someone throw a drink at you that you had to change clothes?” she asks sweetly.
Bash clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. He looks back and forth between Chelsea and me before asking, “Did I miss something?”
“Nope,” the beauty beside me answers. “Now, where were we?”
“We weren’t anywhere,” Birdie answers. “I’ll get started on whatever Mr. Cargill delivers tomorrow and see what shakes loose.”
Bash grins at his partner. “Until then, we’ll keep working shitty assignments where you get felt up by rock stars.”
“Whoa. What?!”
Chelsea ignores me and laughs off the comment, but I level a death glare at my friend. The rage is instant and irrational. “Back. The. Fuck. Up. You let some asshole put his hands on Chelsea?”
“It’s not like I gave him permission.” He shrugs. “Chelsea can handle herself, as the guy found out pretty quickly.”
I angle my head toward Chelsea, who is spending a lot of effort to ignore me. Her eyes slide to mine before quickly darting away. “That’s what I do when faced with unwanted attention.”
That was either a warning or an invitation, and damn, but I want it to be an invitation. “And what do you do when the attention is wanted?”
“Something which will remain a mystery to you.” Chelsea pushes her chair away from the table and addresses her colleagues. “See you at work tomorrow.”
For the second time in two hours, I watch Chelsea rush from the bar. I turn slowly toward my friend once she’s gone. Bash is smirking at me…until I punch him in the bicep. “What the hell did you tell her?”
Bash rubs the spot, still smirking. “What are you talking about?”
“Your partner acts like I’m the devil incarnate. When Chelsea got here at seven, she took one look at me and ran out again. Since the only things she knows about me were learned from you, I want to know what you told her.”
Bash throws his hands up defensively. “Nothing, I swear. I described you to her the same way I described Chelsea to you.”
“Then why the hell do I scare her like that?”
“I don’t know, man. I’ve never seen Chelsea scared. Wait. Scratch that. I’ve been in scary-as-shit situations with Chelsea. I know she was scared because I was. In those situations, she didn’t balk. Those are the only times I’ve ever seen her go still. When Chelsea is scared, she gets eerily still and quiet_generally, right before she kicks ass. So, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she doesn’t like your deodorant.”
I flip my friend off and look over at Birdie. She puts her hand up to halt the questioning. “Sorry. We’ve only recently started hanging out. She jokes a lot, but I’ve always thought it was because she was unflappable. I guess there’s a lot about Chelsea I don’t know. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m sure. Maybe… I’m sorry, . I was secretly hoping the two of you would hit it off.”
My night has just soured. I can’t be angry at Birdie for trying to set me up or at Chelsea for not giving me a chance. She can’t be repulsed by something I’ve done. I’ve barely met her. Maybe I remind her of someone she hates.
Despite my fascination with the woman, I’m not interested in psychological warfare. I would never judge how someone deals with their issues, but I’m not in a position to fix anybody.
Bash doesn’t offer any more pearls of wisdom about Chelsea. I think he and Birdie recognize that I’m losing interest. I push out of the chair and say my goodbyes.
My head hits the pillow thirty minutes later. I have the day off tomorrow, and my only plans are sleeping in and getting Captain back. I don’t plan to waste any time thinking about the former Marine with a fine ass.
My phone wakes me up long before I’m ready to stir. Only one person on this planet would call this early on my day off. I love that boy, but I swear, I’m going to kill him.
I reach for the device on my bedside table, swiping blindly at the screen until the call answers. “I want my dog back.”
A tinny voice responds though I can barely hear it since the call isn’t on speaker. Eyes still closed, I pull the phone to my ear. “Who is this?”
“Sir, this is Ensign Dorne. Your platoon is now on alert. You will be briefed at zero nine hundred.”
“Zero nine hundred,” I repeat to confirm.
Dorne hangs up after my acknowledgment, and I let my arm fall to the mattress. On alert? We just got back.