by Krista Wolf
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1 - Sammara
2 - Kyle
3 - Sammara
4 - Sammara
5 - Sammara
6 - Sammara
7 - Kyle
8 - Ryan
9 - Sammara
10 - Dakota
11 - Sammara
12 - Sammara
13 - Kyle
14 - Sammara
15 - Ryan
16 - Sammara
17 - Sammara
18 - Kyle
19 - Sammara
20 - Sammara
21 - Sammara
22 - Sammara
23 - Dakota
24 - Sammara
25 - Sammara
26 - Sammara
27 - Sammara
28 - Ryan
29 - Sammara
30 - Sammara
31 - Ryan
32 - Sammara
33 - Sammara
34 - Sammara
35 - Sammara
36 - Kyle
37 - Sammara
38 - Sammara
39 - Ryan
40 - Sammara
41 - Sammara
42 - Sammara
43 - Sammara
44 - Sammara
45 - Briggs
46 - Sammara
47 - Sammara
48 - Sammara
49 - Sammara
50 - Kyle
51 - Sammara
52 - Sammara
53 - Sammara
54 - Ryan
55 - Sammara
56 - Sammara
57 - Sammara
58 - Sammara
59 - Sammara
60 - Dakota
61 - Sammara
62 - Sammara
Ghosts of Averoigne
About the Author
~ Quadruple Duty ~
A Military
Reverse Harem Romance
Krista Wolf
Copyright © 2018 Krista Wolf
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.
Cover image: Stock footage — story is unrelated to subject/models
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One
SAMMARA
The asshole was a quarter of an hour late — fifteen long, ass-dragging minutes. No call, no text. Nothing. And as every girl who’s ever sat alone at a crowded bar knows, fifteen minutes can be an eternity and forever.
Just go.
The idea was tempting, but I’d really liked this guy. Or to be more accurate, I’d liked his profile. He looked dark and handsome, even in the weird, over-the-head selfies he’d probably spent hours agonizing over.
Besides, in the few texts we’d exchanged he was witty and cute. And what girl doesn’t like witty and cute?
The door opened… and another couple came through, smiling and laughing. At least someone was having a good time. My mouth twisted in disappointment, the last remnants of salt flaking away from my margarita glass as I decided to grab the bartender’s attention.
How long do you wait for something like this?
I had no idea, really. I’d never done it.
Ten more minutes? Another fifteen?
“One more drink,” I decided aloud. The bartender smiled and poured me another. He pushed it my way, and I raised it back to him in salute. “After that…”
“After that what?”
I whirled, just about sloshing my new drink over its perfectly crusty rim. That would’ve been criminal. Especially if I’d lost the lime wedge.
The guy on the other side of me was someone I recognized immediately. Tall and lean and beautifully built, he’d been sitting nearby, at a table alone. I’d already checked him out more than once since I’d gotten here.
“So what’s the verdict?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“What happens after one more drink?”
He smiled beneath his steel-grey eyes, and I felt my iciness melt just a little. He had a really great smile. Great eyes too.
“I can see you’re already mad,” he said, with mock seriousness. “So what happens next? Do you get really, really mad?”
“Only if someone makes me,” I said.
He eyed me shrewdly, looking me up and down. Under normal circumstances I’d have felt self-conscious about it. But tonight? Tonight I was dressed to kill. Tonight I had a date…
Or at least, almost a date.
“You got stood up, didn’t you?”
“No,” I said immediately.
He only smiled some more.
“Maybe.” I sighed finally. The jig was up. “Okay, yes.”
“So what?” he shrugged. "It’s not that big a deal.”
“For you maybe,” I laughed. “You’re not the one who got stood up.”
He sat down now and signaled the bartender. As he did, he dropped some money on the bar.
“The funny thing is…” he chuckled, “you’d be wrong on that.”
I glanced over to his empty table. “You too?”
“Yup. Although to be honest, I really didn’t expect her to show.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “It’s… well, it’s complicated.”
My brow crossed in confusion. This guy was gorgeous. Tall and ripped with muscle, and not the kind of blown-up muscle guys get at the gym just for show. No, this was useful muscle. It was strength. It was power. My eyes lingered on his two strong arms, where his stretched-tight T-shirt rode up high on two giant biceps.
Who the hell would possibly stand him up?
“We’re both too good-looking to be stood up,” I flirted. “So I think you’re bullshitting.”
A beer arrived, and he wrapped one big hand around it. I could see the callouses. He looked like a worker, or maybe…
“You from the base?”
He nodded. “Army. Ranger specialist.”
I looked at him again, this time in an all new light. Soldiers and men in uniform pretty much did it for me. Always had.
But an Army Ranger…
“That bother you?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Not at all. In fact, it’s very cool.”
He laughed and sipped his beer. “For some things, yes,” he said. I watched his Adam’s apple bob sexily as he swallowed. Even his neck had muscles. “But for other things…”
“Like dating?”
“Yup,” he confirmed. “For dating it sucks.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I challenged. “I’m thinking you do alright with the ladies. I for one have always thought soldiers were pretty hot.”
“Ever date one?”
I shook my head. Though the base was very nearby, somehow I never had.
“If you had, you’d realize there are… issues.”
“Is that why you got stood up?” I asked.
“No.” He thought for a moment. “And yes. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
He drained his beer, keeping his eye on me the whole time. I found myself intrigued by him, locked into his gaze. Unable to look away.
“Hey,” he said, sliding the empty glass away. “You wanna get out of here?”
I blinked. “I guess. Sure. But aren’t you—”
He shook his head. “Nah, not anymore. Right now, I don’t even want my date to show up.”
I laughed. “Me neither.”
My sexy soldier stood and extended his
hand. I took it. It was softer than I thought it would be, warm and welcoming. Together, we headed for the door.
“By the way I’m—”
“Sammara!”
The cry came from behind us. I almost smacked my forehead… the guy from the dating site.
Shit.
“Sammara hey! Oh wow, I’m so sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the—”
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes dropping down to where my new friend and I were holding hands.
“I— I mean…”
“Save it,” my paramour said, dropping an apologetic hand on my would-be date’s shoulder. “Sorry brother, but it looks like you just missed the boat.”
He looked confused. Then angry. Then, after glancing twice at the guy holding my hand… devastated.
As we moved past him without a word, my almost-date’s chin slumped to his chest. I felt sorry for him, but only for a second. Then I remembered the dickhead made me wait nearly half an hour for him, without so much as a phone call.
“Oh and a quick tip?” I added as we walked away. “Stop taking photos at weird angles to hide how tall you are.”
My solider smirked. “Or how tall you aren’t.”
Two
KYLE
She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed — exactly the opposite type of girl I’d usually go for. Sure she had long legs, and an ass that looked great even on the barstool. But she had this incredible porcelain skin too; a complexion that was almost alabaster white. It made her features stand out in stark, angular fashion.
And if I were being honest… I liked those features too.
It was stupid of me to hit on her. Ridiculously stupid to pull her out of the bar, especially. I knew all along — even before it started — how it was destined to end. That no matter how good or magical a time we had, it could never pan out… at least not in the way we needed it to.
I decided to kiss her anyway.
It happened five blocks away, as we were walking and talking close. We’d paused for a moment — that’s all it took — our minds and expressions going utterly blank. Our faces moved in slowly, leaning inexorably toward each other as the irresistible forces of attraction and instinct took over…
I couldn’t even tell you if she was the one who planted her lips on mine, or vice versa.
The kiss was hot. Full of fire and passion and open-ended promise. Her jaw rotated slowly against mine, even as our tongues met and danced within our mouths. Most of all she smelled absolutely wonderful — like sun, or coconut, or a windswept beach.
Wow…
And I couldn’t get enough of her hair! It was so incredibly long, so unimaginably soft… I couldn’t stop sifting my fingers through those golden ringlets, getting my hands lost in it as I crushed her body against mine.
As our kiss went on I pulled her from the sidewalk, into the relative privacy of the nearest alcove. Our bodies melded against one another’s beneath the overhang, her hands going delicately to the sides of my face. She was gorgeous. The most beautiful creature in the world, looking back at me with those ocean-blue eyes as she kissed me, over and over, while cooing softly into my mouth.
Holy shit I’m screwed.
I knew it right away. Knew it without having to even consider it. This girl who hadn’t been there to meet me. Who hadn’t even the slightest clue what I was, or what I wanted, or what was needed before I could even consider seeing her again.
And yet… at the same time, I didn’t care. It was wholly liberating, kissing this beautiful blonde goddess. Feeling the rising heat of her thighs pressed against mine, as our hands found each other’s and our fingers interlocked.
I savored the feeling of being close with someone again. Of just holding them. Of letting my body take pleasure in the intimacy of theirs, even as my mind spun out into oblivion, absolving me of all future responsibility.
When it was finished we were both left breathless. She was adorable there in the alcove, her chest heaving, the sudden rush of blood making her cheeks red, her lips even fuller than they already were. I took her by the hand and led her down a sidestreet, into a little park I knew was well-lit yet secluded from the foot traffic of the main avenue.
We ended up on a bench, still holding hands. Staring at each other with those carnivorous eyes, the ones that promised another explosion of passion at any moment.
“Sammara is a kickass name by the way,” I said, before I was forced to kiss her again.
She blushed. “Thanks. I still don’t know yours though.”
“It’s Kyle.”
“Ah… hi Kyle.”
“Go on, you can say it. Kyle is a shitty name.”
She full on laughed at that, and in her laughter she looked even more gorgeous.
“So tell me Sammara,” I went on. “How the hell is it that you don’t have a boyfriend?”
She paused for a moment before answering. “Umm… because guys suck?”
“Most of us do,” I agreed. “Yeah.”
She giggled. “At least you’re honest.”
“Unless I’m lying,” I replied. “You know, just saying what you want to hear, so I can get into your pants.”
Her eyes went wide. “Shit, you’re gonna be honest about that too?”
“I could be lying about lying,” I shrugged. “You never know.”
Sammara looked off into the distance. She was so perfect, so flawless, I imagined her as some beautiful, porcelain doll.
“I’ve had lots of boyfriends,” she admitted, “but no one that really stands out. Or sticks around longer than a year or so.”
“Maybe it’s you?”
She laughed again. “Could be, but I doubt it. I’m pretty fucking awesome.”
“And modest.”
Her eyes flashed in the lamplight. She squeezed my hand. “I prefer the term realist.”
You’re about as real as it gets, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
“Maybe you’re not dating the right kinds of guys, then?”
Sammara shrugged. “Well, I date two types of guys. Almost exclusively.”
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
“The first is the insecure asshole. Things start off nice in the beginning, lots of attention, good times… then suddenly he wants to control me. He needs to know where I am, what I’m doing. Why I’m not with him. How come I have a life without him.” She sighed, obviously remembering. “This devolves quickly into paranoia, jealousy, insecurity… that sort of thing.”
“Very unattractive,” I agreed.
“Totally.”
“And the other?”
She took a deep breath. “The other guy is the bad boy narcissist. He’s attentive at first, but the relationship quickly becomes all about him. The harder I try to please him, the harder it is, because the bad boy narcissist doesn’t want to be pleased. He wants to be chased.”
“I see.”
“Things go south quickly in that one. Eventually the whole thing crumbles because the foundation of the relationship isn’t about us—”
“It’s about him,” I finished.
“Exactly.”
I felt her shiver. Realizing she was probably cold, I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“A gentleman too,” she said, pulling it down around her. “Thanks. Your stock just went up a few points.”
“My stock huh? Is it time to sell?”
“Not yet.”
I could see her breath, just barely, against the cold. Her lips were amazing — plump and full and painted cherry red. I wanted them again in the worst way.
“So Kyle, back at the bar… who were you waiting for? You said it was complicated.”
“Oh it is,” I assured her. “Very complicated.”
Sammara’s shoulders slumped. “Ah,” she said disappointedly. “You’re married.”
“Nope.”
“Girlfriend then?”
“No again.”
“Boyfriend?”
I laughed. “A
fter that kiss? What do you think?”
Sammara laughed and shrugged. “Shit, I’m stumped. It must be really complicated then.” She rolled her eyes dramatically while wiggling her fingers. “And mysterious!”
“You’re making fun of me aren’t you?”
“A little.”
“Fine, just for that I’ll tell you.”
I looked back at her, and saw her staring at me intently. So intently, I couldn’t resist.
“My lover was kidnapped by Colombian antiquities smugglers,” I said simply. “And if I don’t return a giant emerald we stole from a cave in the jungle, they’re gonna feed her to alligators.”
Sammara nodded, albeit very slowly. “Ah… Sounds like you have Romancing the Stone problems.”
I was completely stunned. “Whoa. You actually know that movie?”
“Sure I know the movie. And they’re crocodiles, not alligators.”
I blinked three or four times in rapid succession. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. Actually I’m surprised you know it, being a romance movie and all that.”
“Well Michael Douglas was badass,” I explained. “He killed an allig— I mean crocodile — with his bare hands, and then made boots out of it.”
“That is pretty badass,” Sammara admitted. “Especially for a non-Army Ranger.”
She squeezed my hand. Pulling it into her lap, she used the fingers of her other hand to force me to face her.
“Okay now tell me why,” she said, without even the hint of a smile. “But for real this time.”
For real…
I nodded reluctantly. Pulled out my phone…
And showed her.
Three
SAMMARA
“No… seriously?”
I squinted down at the phone’s glowing screen, carefully re-reading the several lines of text. Astonishingly enough, they said the same thing the second time around.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?”
Kyle shook his head. “Afraid not.”
“You mean you’re actually serious?” I looked up at him. “You’d actually go through with this?”
The big soldier on the other side of the bench shrugged. “If it were the right girl?” he mused. “Yes. In a New York minute.”
