Under Pressure

by Zoë Normandie

  Delta replied a little too fast, likely stirring his best friend’s suspicion. He couldn’t hide that he was waiting for a memorable blonde and her bouncy ponytail to show up for drinks. He’d made it damn clear he wanted her there. Would she show? He slung back the rest of his stout, mulling on the big question of the day. The night would be a bust if she didn’t. There was something about her, something he wanted to know better.

  Warren cracked, “I didn’t think she was going to survive the course.”

  “She was trying her best, man.” Delta flashed fast, correcting him. “Don’t start with that shit.”

  Warren snorted. “Don’t you think it was a little out of her league? It seemed fucking careless as hell to let her run the damn thing.”

  “Dude, are you expecting her to sit it out just because she’s a chick?”

  Delta fired back at his friend, feeling heat rising in his throat, but he slowed his roll. He’d always been good at being the calm one. Attentive, the bartender dropped a fresh beer in front of him, giving him a second to recover.

  “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but look around.” Warren motioned to the rest of the crowd. “These guys know what they are doing. She didn’t. It was dangerous.”

  “I was there with her. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.”

  “I saw. We all saw.”

  Delta slammed his pint on the bar, staring down his friend. The ocean breeze floated through the open patio doors, blowing a tuft of his hair over his brow. He reached up, smoothing it back, narrowing his eyes on a certain voice carrying through the crowd. The staff sergeant. The fucking asshat had disappeared right as they’d jumped into the course. He’d deserted Kendra right when she’d needed help the most, and for that reason, Delta knew everything he needed to know about him.

  “Be careful with him,” Warren warned from the side, keeping his voice down.

  “I’m not worried about that guy,” Delta scoffed, his eyes fixated on Hunter’s weak shoulders.

  He didn’t like him. Not at all.

  “You’ve stepped on his territory, for sure.”

  “Fuck—I don’t give a shit. He can come at me if he’s got a problem,” Delta snapped, watching and waiting.

  Feeling his chest muscles tighten and flex, his protective instinct pulsed up his spine, driving him to plot and scheme, until that familiar blonde ponytail bobbed through the bar’s entrance and interrupted his thoughts. As Kendra strode in, the muscles in his body relaxed momentarily, shifting gears. From the corner of his eye, he could see Warren watching him, a sly grin on his mouth. There was no mistaking what was happening, so Delta didn’t bother trying to hide it.

  Kendra slowly gazed around the crowd, over the clusters of cops and operators drinking in the sunset at the oceanside bar. Other patrons, local women, were trying to mingle with the guys, laughing and flirting. Delta knew where that was going. There wasn’t much mystery to how the night would be ending for some of them. If he’d only be as lucky.

  He shot a grin and a nod to Kendra, and her face lit up in return, beaming ear to ear. As she pushed through the crowd, her hips swaying, his cock hardened and he stifled a groan. Carefully adjusting his wood, he drank in all that was Kendra, a sight he had come to enjoy. Her light, natural look was what turned him on—her loose-fitting jeans, ripped in the knee, her white shirt, relaxed but revealing her mouth-watering cleavage with that golden tan. She looked fucking hot.

  “Relax, man,” Warren grumbled, drawing Delta’s attention to the fact that his grip was literally about to snap his pint glass in half.

  Delta sucked in a breath, chugged the rest of the beer and released the glass back to the bar top. He ran his teeth over his lip, averting his gaze and trying not to stare.

  Warren added, “What is with you and this girl?”

  From his peripheral vision, Delta observed Hunter striding to greet Kendra as she was halfway into the bar, causing Delta to tense up again. Who the fuck does he think he is? Something primal flooded Delta’s senses, a hot rush running up his neck.

  Warren grunted a final warning. “Don’t get in the middle of that.”

  “Fuck off,” Delta snapped at his friend as Kendra pulled away from Hunter and closed the gap between her and Delta.

  Finally.

  Delta adjusted, pushing Warren away and opening up space for Kendra to join him. With the sun dropping below the horizon, Delta enjoyed how the last rays of light lit up her blonde hair. It was like she was on fire.

  “You’re late,” Delta joked as Kendra moved in beside him. Everything in his body grew hotter as she leaned against the bar, her shiny lips flashing up at him.

  “I’m never late.” She grinned and engaged with the bartender to order a drink.

  Leaning back casually, he observed this new woman in his life. He appreciated how natural she kept it. If she was wearing any makeup, he didn’t see it, not like the other women hanging around the bar. Those women, who’d layered on way too much war paint and were snapping posed selfies for their followers, were the type of woman who usually threw themselves at him, thinking he’d be all in. Kendra was a far cry from that type. She was clearly a woman who was just unapologetically herself—natural, so take it or leave it.

  Turning back to him, she nodded. “Thanks for supporting me today. I’m used to having to do everything alone.”

  “It was nothing.” He shrugged. “You were on my team.”

  Kendra picked up her pint as it was served, raising it to Delta.

  “No, you don’t understand. They said I was going to eat it on the course. I know they wanted me to screw it up.”

  “Why?”

  Raising her brow, she slowly sipped on the glass, her mouth consuming the frothy liquid, before explaining, “To prove their theory—that I’m not cut out to be a cop. I belong behind a desk or a lab counter.”

  She brought the pint back to her mouth, dancing her lips on the edge of the glass. It was the most goddamn erotic thing Delta had ever seen. Stifling his reaction, he drilled his attention into her words, needing to stay focused.

  “Dudes are fucking dumb sometimes,” he assured her, trying to find the right words. “Don’t worry about them.”

  “I guess. I couldn’t have done it without you,” Kendra confessed, her eyes big and thankful. “And, aside from keeping me alive, you actually made it fun.”

  He couldn’t accept the compliment. “But you did it on your own. I just stood behind you.”

  “Yes, you did.” She grinned, insinuating everything.

  The sudden change from serious to playful was perfect, drawing a smile across Delta’s mouth.

  He leaned in. “Tell me you didn’t like it.”

  She laughed, keeping her tone low. “Would it be wrong if I did?”

  “Not at all.” He gripped the bar top, assessing every inch of her body. In a deeper voice, he continued, “What else do you like?”

  “Nerdy stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Chemistry, experiments, bioethics,” she began listing, her clear blue eyes flashing at him again as she abruptly halted.

  “Damn.” He gave a low laugh, looking around. “You’re too smart for this group of idiots, and I include myself in that.”

  She let out a hearty laugh in response, shaking her head. He let the conversation lapse while she took another drink, enjoying himself thoroughly as he watched her. Like him, she obviously hated taking compliments. That much was clear. And the more he exchanged with her, the more intoxicated by her he felt.

  “You and I—I’m sure we are exact opposites.” She flickered her gaze up and down his body, and he knew what she saw.

  “Opposites, huh?” He raised his eyebrow, wondering if this was her attempt at pushing him away. It surprised him. By that point, most women he met were inventing things they had in common, pretending to like everything he liked, including the back seat of his pickup truck.

  He continued, “Let me guess… Your perfect Satu
rday involves a book and silence.”

  Cocking her head back and letting out a laugh, Kendra grumbled, “Guilty, and what the hell do you get up to?”

  Taking his time, he sipped his beer again, thinking about how to phrase it.

  She cut into his thoughts, calling him out, “Stop trying to massage the truth and just spit it.”

  Surprised at her quick tongue, he stiffened.

  “You want to know the truth? I never tell girls this because I don’t want to fucking scare them. My perfect Saturday involves the firing range, prepping for my next deployment and running survival scenarios in the mountains.” Then he added, sarcastically, “So, yeah—I’m a pretty well-rounded guy.”

  “Wow,” she said with a very unimpressed face. “Eat and sleep all things military, much?”

  “I’m marriage material. What can I say?” He tilted his head, playacting as conceited.

  Laughing at him, she said, “Seems like it. You should get a non-military hobby.”

  “Like what…basket weaving?” he teased. “Knitting?”

  “Yeah, you’d be cute doing some arts and crafts,” she baited right back, not missing a beat. “Make me a Hufflepuff scarf, please.”

  “Fuck, I’m not going to tell you what my real extra-curricular hobby is.” He groaned under his breath as he downed the rest of his glass, the mere thought tensing his shoulders.

  “Come on,” she flirted in a gasping tone. “Tell me.”

  Toying, he brushed her off. “You couldn’t handle it.”

  “You are too much.” She shook her head, grinning back at the bartender for another pint.

  “You saying you aren’t interested?” Delta leaned back in, looking down his nose at her, calculating.

  “Of course not—what did you think this was?” she countered, a little too much seriousness in her tone.

  He shrugged, keeping it light, watching her every move.

  “I’m not that easy,” she added, changing the dynamic.

  He shot her a cold glare. “I never said you were.”

  She doubled down, carving out boundaries. “Don’t even try it with me. It’s a waste of your time. I’ve got a chastity belt on.”

  “I don’t see it.” He dropped his gaze to her waist, challenging her.

  “I’m more conservative than you think,” she continued, holding her hand up to stop him. “I’ve been holding out for something a little more traditional.”

  As she said it, he grew hungrier.

  “When you say stuff like that, it only makes me more determined.” He watched the realization cross her face, and he added, “I’m a competitive guy. Really competitive.”

  A hunter, he just couldn’t help himself, assessing her for weakness, like she was both his opponent and his prey. Stiffening her spine, she narrowed her eyes at him. Her demeanor had transformed to full-blown protective, which he regretted.

  She warned, “It’s not a competition, and I’m not looking for a quick and casual thing.”

  It’s not a competition? He raised his eyebrows, wondering if she had any idea how bad that made him want to win. The more he leaned forward, the more she leaned back, making him want it all that much more. The glaring issue—that she was relationship material and he wasn’t—seemed less important, becoming second to winning her by any means necessary. In Delta’s books, if the ends justified the means…

  Unfortunately, his thoughts were cut off as they were swarmed by a couple of the guys, including Warren, putting the conversation on hold. As Delta and Kendra were absorbed into a bigger group, clinking beers and slapping hands on backs, shot glasses full of tequila were thrust into their hands. The group enjoyed a few more—maybe several more—pints before Delta pushed away to find the restroom. He didn’t like leaving Kendra with them, but he had to piss like a racehorse, and surely she’d stick around.

  The excursion having taken longer than he would have liked, due to a small lineup, he found himself gazing left and right when he re-entered the bar, searching for her. Quickly, he realized that she wasn’t there anymore.

  Fuck.

  Where the fuck did she go? Who else left the bar? It was well past sunset and getting late into the evening. That protective tension crept up his chest at not seeing Hunter anymore either.

  “You okay?” Warren asked cautiously as Delta approached.

  Delta ran his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of what had happened. Heat rushed up the back of his neck and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “The antimalaria drugs getting to you this time?” Warren nudged his friend, trying to keep it light.

  “I just started them.” Delta turned, looking out the patio where it connected to the beach. “The next rotation’s going to be a bitch.”

  She has to be out there.

  Without even so much as saying goodbye to his friend, Delta slipped outside. He quickly observed that she wasn’t on the patio, either. Glowering side to side, he couldn’t even see her on the stretch of beach. She was a grown-ass woman, but he didn’t like it. His uncontrollable intensity sprang forth. In a flash, he whipped down the patio steps, finding his way onto the deserted beach.

  Maybe it was just his lack of trust in people or his driving need to ensure her safety, but he told himself that he had to make sure she was okay, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. His intentions were all altruistic. As he strode down the wide expanse of sand, trying to get eyes on any form resembling hers, he finally caught a glimpse of a woman slowly walking in the distance by the water—alone. That woman was definitely Kendra, based on the sway of her hips that he had memorized. Relieved to see her, he confirmed she was all right and not being stalked…by any other man.

  “You shouldn’t be out here on your own,” Delta called out as he approached her, prepared to lecture.

  Kendra spun, digging her heels in, twirling her blonde ponytail in her fingers as she watched him walk up to her. Something in her expression told him that she wasn’t taking him seriously. He could almost feel her rolling her eyes, even in the dark.

  “I think I’ll be fine.” She turned with a shrug, returning to walking down the beach.

  He caught up quickly, his long, strong legs outpacing her. The glittery waves crashed against the sand beside them as they walked together, illuminated by the big white moon overhead.

  “Why’d you leave?” he challenged.

  “I needed a bit of air,” she replied, nodding back to the bar, which was growing farther and farther away as they walked. “It can get a little intense, surrounded by so many of your type.”

  “My type?” he questioned, full well knowing the answer.

  “I think you know what I mean.”

  “And I think you should listen to me when I say don’t walk on the beach, alone, at nearly midnight. It’s dark, it’s deserted and there’s a bar full of drunken guys who would love nothing more than—”

  She cut in, stopping him. “Than what?” She dug her heels into the sand, folding her arms protectively like a shield over her chest.

  He pivoted. “I don’t need to tell you.”

  “And I don’t need to be babysat. I’m a big girl.”

  Squaring himself to her, his tone changed. “You’re stubborn as hell, aren’t you?”

  “So what if I am?”

  “You should watch your back. Your boss is into you. I wouldn’t trust him. He could be out here, waiting for his moment.” Delta nodded around to the dark bushes lining the top of the beach.

  “And what about you?” The accusation in her voice was clear.

  He stood still, that hunter impulse driving his focus towards one thing only.

  “You are used to people taking orders from you, huh?” she continued, holding her position. “You don’t know Hunter. He’s harmless…unlike you.”

  “Unlike me?” Delta stood back on his heels, staring her down. “Looks like you’ve got my type all figured out. Now, I know your type. You’re the type that always goes it alone and
never asks for help.”

  She fidgeted in the sand, unwilling to answer him, which was when he knew he’d got her. Even in the moonlight, he didn’t miss the fire in her eyes—a fire she no doubt stoked to survive.

  He continued, trying to get her to open up, “I bet it was a big deal for you that you accepted my help on the ropes today. You don’t like being rescued, right?”

  She gaped up at him, concession in her eyes. He’d hit the nail on the head. Why couldn’t he have seen it earlier?

  “I bet you never let anyone help you.”

  “I’ve managed on my own this far, haven’t I?” She shrugged, nonchalant yet revealing all the same. She dropped her hands, fidgeting with the pockets on her jeans, averting her gaze.

  She was too alluring, and Delta found himself edging in closer to her, drawn to the fact that he was the one who’d cracked her—no one else. The waves crashing in the background made the perfect backdrop for what was about to happen. Her scent filled the air between them—that rosy musk of sweetness. It was damn intoxicating. Maybe a little scared, she flashed her eyes back up to him, parting her lips in the obvious awareness that they’d lost the comfortable distance between them. With a look like that, he well and truly couldn’t help himself. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he was unable to stop.

  Losing control, he reached out, roughly gripping her hourglass waist, pulling her up and into him. Growing breathless, she yielded to his touch, giving in—showing him that she wanted it, wanted him.

  “We’re looking for different things,” she whispered as he slowly dropped his head.

  He hovered his mouth above hers. “Maybe.”

  “Don’t kiss me unless you mean it,” she pleaded, vulnerable. “Don’t—”

  He didn’t let her finish her thought, closing the remaining gap between their mouths. He took her lips with his, kissing her well and thoroughly. At first, she pouted as if to refute him, but her gaze lowered, her eyelids growing heavy. She welcomed his tongue, and he tasted her for the first time, the flavor exactly as he imagined. Erotic, sensual, he started slow, but passion drove him to quicken the kiss, a sense of urgency lingering. Her flawless body sank into his and warmth permeated through her into his damn cold chest, which was starting to remember what it was like to be that near someone.