Contents
WELCOME TO ACI
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Epilogue
ABOUT
WELCOME TO ACI
On the surface ACI looks like any other big corporation. What really goes on behind the scenes? Hot alpha guys taking care of business and finding true love, for a start!
From the company website:
We are Alpha Corps International
Always Forward
Committed to achieving mission-critical challenges for our enterprise and government customers. Specializing in areas of national security and cyber warfare, we innovate where others hesitate to lead. Our team of experienced professionals share our core values of ethics, integrity, and honor. We take pride in providing our customers with outstanding service and a job well done.
What we do:
Mission Support
Business & IT Systems
Engineering
PFD & Service Automation
Current Openings
Field Mission Consultant (in country - West Coast base)
Field Mission Technician (in country - West Coast base)
Field Mission Consultant (in country - Europe base)
Logistics Analyst (WA - Sala Bay)
Intern (CA - San Diego)
Sr. Logistics Analyst (VA - McLean)
Systems Engineer - Aviation (WA - Sala Bay)
Russian Language Analyst (CA - San Diego)
More …
Don’t fall asleep just yet… The military is customer number one. Damon’s on a business trip to ACI to oversee some contracts. He sure as heck didn’t come looking for a wife! So turn the page already…
1
DAMON
I’m ready for this day to be over. Only there’s still no end in sight. I’m sitting here in this sorry excuse for a bar waiting for these two guys to show up so we can fake ‘bond’ over a warm brew. I don’t want to socialize with two pricks who only want my signature on a few multi-million dollar requisitions from the army. I want to be at my cabin in Idaho on my back deck with my feet propped up on the railing, nursing a cold one. Failing that, I’ll take being back in my hotel room debating whether or not to take Melissa up on her offer if I’m ever in town. Which I am, but I haven’t told her that yet. She was fun and it’s been a while since I’ve fucked something other than my hand. I’m just not sure I want to tap that again. I don’t want her getting ideas that we have a future together.
Probably doesn’t matter because I’m stuck here in a dingy room with no windows, in full service uniform because technically I’m working, watching the worst bartender I’ve ever seen trying to keep up with a Monday night crowd. She’s spilling whiskey all over the bar. And in her efforts to mop it up she’s pushing it into the laps of the three guys sitting there. They’re taking it better than I would. Since they’re dressed in a variety of military salvage maybe they’re not as concerned with the dry cleaning bill.
The woman is flustered and blushing. I can see her apologizing to the guys and yep, offering free drinks. I can’t help smirking thinking that when word gets out, tomorrow night’s crowd is going to break some records for attendance. Oops. She’s glaring straight at me. My cock stirs to life, twitching. I must really need to get laid if angry bartenders are now doing it for me. She doesn’t have the edge that most publicans do, she’s either fresh out of a convent or they had to raid the front desk to find someone to work in this pit.
I’m still waiting on Jeff and Kevin, who are now twenty minutes late. I check my phone for messages and yes, there it is, a rescheduling for tomorrow, sent five minutes ago. Great. The only thing worse than sitting here on a Monday night is coming back on Tuesday. I sigh and stand to gather up my briefcase. I never thought I’d be that guy. But then, does anyone go to West Point to become a glorified paper pusher? Wait I take that back, my first roommate Neil did. He was all about operational process improvement. He once even tried to redesign the cafeteria layout so that all the carbohydrates were evenly distributed. In the army’s infinite wisdom, after he barely managed to graduate (he wasn’t that great at taking orders), they put him in charge of translation services for the eastern sector. He hates it. I grin at the thought of Neil, trying to herd multi-lingual cats. I should send him an email in Arabic just to yank his chain.
As I walk past the bar on my way to the exit I get a better look at the woman serving. If she wasn’t so frazzled she’d be a knockout. She’s probably in her mid-thirties. Her posture radiates that grounded-in-reality self-confidence that younger women just don’t have. It’s sexy as fuck. Her dark hair is pulled back tight in a no-nonsense ponytail and her brandy-colored eyes are frowning as she’s trying to make change for guys that keep passing her twenties for four dollar bottles. I’m pretty sure they’re messing with her, so I pause to take out my wallet. I slip a twenty into her tip jar, even though I haven’t ordered anything tonight. She deserves something for putting up with their shit. Plus she’s adorable. She catches my movement out of the corner of her eye and turns to frown directly at me. Her mouth is wide and there’s a spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She’s fresh and unpainted and thank God this uniform jacket is long enough to cover the growing bulge in my pants.
“Ma’am.” I manage to say evenly before turning to the door. Suddenly coming back tomorrow looks a lot more interesting.
KATE
Oh God. I suck at this minimum wage job that I now desperately need. On top of that, the gorgeous officer who’s been laughing at me is now giving me pity tips. I thought about telling him to take it back but I seriously need the money. And if I take the time to argue with him, I’ll screw up something else.
Nobody tells you that a history degree followed by law school gives you zero job skills for anything except being an attorney. Which I was. Until three months ago when suddenly I wasn’t. I tried to find another legal job, even going down to paralegal but everyone knew who I was and didn’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole. Office jobs that had nothing to do with attorneys didn’t want me because they thought lawyers were too argumentative. Which we kind of are. So when my savings got too low to pay the mortgage on my small condo my cousin Luke told me about this job.
It’s supposed to be easy. The bar is owned or subsidized or something by the company that owns the building so that all these big scary military dudes have a place to hang out and chill. Preferably without talking too much to people that shouldn’t be hearing them. The three guys that hired me absolutely loved that I had a law degree I wasn’t using. They promised me that the customers only drink three things: beer from a bottle, straight whiskey, or tequila shots. A simple matter of pouring and taking cash. No mixed drinks, no fancy garnishes. A kindergartener could do it if only it was legal to hire one. Luckily for me, it’s not because I suck at it. The bar patrons are almost all huge and good looking. If they just sat there I’d have a hard enough time because I kept my nose in a book from first grade through graduate school. I thought there would be time to learn how to interact with men later after I was established in my career. And then suddenly I looked up and I’m thirty-six, have no idea how to flirt and figure I’ll die of embarrassment if I ever get to the point of telling a man that I haven’t ever done… you know. At this point, I think I’m safe from ever having to have that conversation. Sigh. At least my hot book boyfriends love me.
Anyway, these guys don’t just sit there. They think it’s more fun to try to rile me up. Most of it is just messing with my head, like having fifty big brothers all trying to claim they gave me a twenty when they gave me a ten. But others are a little more high strung. And those guys seem to th
ink I should be offering some services that aren’t on the menu. There’s always a bouncer on duty, yet another of these big beefy guys working for extra pay while they’re between assignments, but they can’t step in for every single customer. So I get flustered and mess up. Pretty much the story of my life right there.
This is my second week and the first night on my own. It’s not going well and I’ll need to try to stay up late tonight to get a few more job applications out. I’m thinking about trying for things farther out of state. Attorneys are a bunch of email gossips though so I’m not holding my breath.
Teddy, the guy acting a bouncer tonight, calls out, “Yo Kate, time for last call.”
I nod and tell the bar patrons, all six of them, who are clustered against the Formica bar. “You guys catch that?”
They nod and don’t order anything further. When the army guy left he sort of took the energy out of the room with him. Most of these guys were military but they’re out of the service now. They typically come in wearing something I’m starting to call salvage grunge. A lot of camo mixed with jeans and black or khaki t-shirts. Actual uniforms with shiny brass buttons and insignia haven’t happened before tonight. I’m not sure my heart can take seeing him again, so it’s a good thing that’s not likely to happen. I might indulge in one or two fantasies about him later as a reward for getting those job applications done…
2
KATE
I spend the morning applying for jobs that I know I don’t stand a chance of getting, even the ones in rural Nebraska. I’m so depressed when I stop for lunch that I decide to make a change in what I wear to the bar for my shift in the afternoon. I’ve been wearing jeans and over-sized long-sleeve t-shirts because well, it’s a dump and who cares? But today just for me I put on my prettiest bra and panty set, pale pink with coral ribbons. I got it to celebrate when I won a big case a few years ago but they mostly hang out at the back of my underwear drawer.
Putting them on and standing in front of the closet mirror I wish I had the money to buy more. I’m standing straighter and my body looks huggable. I take the weight of my large C-cup breasts in my hands, trying to imagine a man’s thick fingers instead of mine. He flicks his thumbs over my nipples making them stiffen into peaks that strain against the soft lace.
I would never admit to anyone but I yearn for that intimacy. A man who knows how to touch me, willing to persevere past all the walls I’ve erected over the years. Honestly, I think world peace is more likely.
I cover it all up with a white button-down, but I let my inner wild child leave the top three buttons undone. It makes the neckline gape and shows a tantalizing amount of skin, teasing the top of my breasts. If things get uncomfortable later I can always do up the buttons. I roll up the sleeves and put on a wide silver cuff I got in Mexico that always makes me think of Wonder Woman’s magic bracelets. I’m starting to feel a tiny bit kick-ass. Instead of jeans, I throw on tight black leggings. The shirt is long enough to cover my butt so I leave my small apartment feeling sexy and comfortable.
When I get to the Alpha Corps building I walk down the ramp of the parking garage. It’s faster to get to the bar that way than through the lobby. It’s on a sort of mezzanine between the two structures which I guess is why it doesn’t have any windows. I think they just went looking for an unused space they could convert, though. Tina is counting her tips when I enter and head to the back to put away my purse. When I come back to the bar she’s packed up and ready to go.
“Anything I need to know?” I ask her as she slings her backpack over her shoulder.
“Nope, you should be good—new look on you, chica?”
“Trying to cheer myself up,” I admit ruefully.
“Bet you’ll get some good tips tonight!” She smiles kindly and heads out.
Tina is alright. She has two small kids at home she supports on two or three jobs depending on the season. She works until five when their daycare down the street closes and then she’s gone. In an ordinary bar that would probably be the worst shift, here I’m not so sure. I look around the nearly empty room. Orson is the bouncer tonight. He looks like he could be an NFL contender but I don’t think he likes football. All he ever talks about is his dream of owning a movie theater back in Alabama. I really hope it happens for him.
There are three guys hanging out at the bar and a table with three more at the back. Uh-oh. That army officer is one of them. He’s sitting where he can see the bar. There’s a beer in front of him but I haven’t seen him lift it. Fuck. The two guys he’s with are chatting up a storm, they’re dressed in regular dress slacks and button-downs. They must be middle-management of some kind. He’s not paying attention to them. His eyes are watching me. I try not to look as I empty the dishwasher and put the glasses away. I wipe down the bar and can’t resist a peek. He’s still watching.
He can’t be over thirty if that. He’s got the muscled build of a professional soccer player but his close-cropped dark hair and sharp cheekbones are pure angsty youth model. Something tells me he’s not used to women telling him no. Of course, I’m not used to saying yes. I giggle to myself at that thought as if that conversation could ever happen. One chortle escapes out loud as I straighten and flip my hair back, causing the guys at the bar to look at each other like maybe I’ve gone over the edge.
All’s good though for the moment. Officer Dude is staying at his table and Orson is telling me about the cappuccino bar he wants to put in his movie theater instead of a soda fountain. Then trouble enters in the form of ten muscle-bound idiots who missed all the memos. When I’m done explaining that they only have three choices on the menu, that it’s not me being stubborn, that’s all that’s in stock, they’re pissed. Seven of them give up and walk away with beers settling in the corner opposite Officer Dude but the other three… They settle in for some serious shit.
“Where are the strippers?” The ringleader demands aggressively.
“We don’t have strippers,” I tell them firmly.
“But there’s poles right there. Why don’t you give us a show, sweetheart? It’s not like you’re busy.”
“Sorry, no show. Did you want a beer? Or whiskey? Maybe water?”
It’s pretty clear these guys were bullies in school and they’ve yet to let go of the bad habit. I spare a glance for Officer Dude and he’s watching with a frown on his face, his focus is on the big guy who’s leaning over the bar trying to look down my shirt.
“Water, she said water!” One of them burst out in fake laughter.
“I think we should take her up on that suggestion,” the ringleader hisses. Before I can stop him he’s reaching over the bar to the sink, flipping up the handle and grabbing the hose attachment. He aims it straight at my chest and before I can react I’m drenched. Despite my instinctive move to bring my arms up over my chest, I might as well be naked. My white shirt has gone completely transparent and the coral trim on my bra is shouting through the wet material. I’m horrified. I don’t even have a change of clothes with me. I’m numb.
Orson is wading in, trying to get the guys to leave but there’s three of them plus their buddies and just one of him.
Suddenly Officer Dude is growling commands in a voice that I swear could part the sea. “Out! Now!”
“You!” he points at Orson. “See that they leave the perimeter. I don’t want to see them back. Clear?” He thunders.
Orson nods while I’m starting to shiver. Fuck. Could I look like any more of a loser?
When there’s nobody in the bar but me and Officer Dude he comes around to the service side of the bar.
“Any chance you’ve got a change of clothes here?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head mutely.
“Or that you’re willing to go home early?”
“Can’t. I’d get fired.”
I see his lips pinch like he can’t imagine why that would be a bad thing. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he slowly unbuttons his uniform jacket. Taking it off he swings it over my sh
oulders, then leans in and buttons the middle button so it’s fastened over my arms, which are still making a vain attempt to cover my breasts from prying eyes. “I’ve got some spare gear in my car. Will you be okay for a minute?” His fingers are lifting my chin gently.
I study his face, it’s all hard sharp angles but his green eyes are kind with deep grooves at the corner that don’t match his apparent age. Like he’s spent a few years squinting into an over bright sun. I’m sinking into those eyes so I don’t even remember to respond. Instead, I ask, “What’s your name? I don’t think I can keep calling you Officer Dude if you’re going to start giving me your clothes.”
His lips twitch. “That’s got a ring to it, I admit. I usually answer to Damon. Your other choice is Major Maddox.”
“Aren’t you kind of young to be a major?”
He smiles like he knows what I’m trying to ask without asking and he dodges just as deftly. “Depends on who you’re asking. If you talk to my brother he’d tell you I’m a slacker. And you are?”
I suddenly realize I’ve just been standing there mooning over him. “Oh! I’m Kate. Kate Stanwood.”
Well, Ms. Kate Stanwood, I’ll be back in a few with something dry. Maybe then you’ll tell me why you’re here pretending to be bartender?” Unlike the bullies, his voice is gently curious and yet I know I’m unlikely to avoid baring my soul to this man. I think I’m about out of pride though so I just nod and pull his jacket tighter around me from the inside.
Suddenly he leans down and gives me a soft kiss on the forehead. “Babe.” He pauses on his way to the door. “Lock this after me, yeah?”
I follow him to the door and flip the small door lock, watching him as he heads towards the parking garage.
I can’t help wondering how I got to the point in life where men young enough for me to have babysat are calling me babe.
Damon Page 1
