After tossing a blanket over the child seat in the back of my car and laughing about it for an hour, we drove around and met some cute sailors at a small dive bar near Pier 39. We had so much fun that night, we went back the next day and strolled around the city some more and met a lot of very nice and very cute servicemen visiting from out of town.
“Oh, and check this out,” she continued over the phone, bolting me out of my reverie.
God, did she ever stop talking?
“I had to fill out this tax form the other day and it made me laugh. It asked if I had any military service and if so, to checkmark which branch. Girl, I could have check-marked Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines – hell, even the Coast Guard. I’ve done my patriotic duty. I’ve been of service, all right!”
I had been drinking water I needed to swallow more aspirin and I spit it all over my computer screen and keyboard, half of it coming out of my nose. “Oh, no you didn’t!” I choked into the phone. “Shit, girl! I’m dyin’ over here!”
She laughed too, then groaned. “Ohhh, my head. Crap. I have a damn inmate at my door. I’ll call you back later!” And she hung up.
I shook my head, glad we had been interrupted by a convict before she said too much and incriminated herself with all her tales of debauchery.
CHAPTER 3
The week passed by very slowly and we decided to take a breather the following weekend. The weekends I had Aiden were usually low-key anyway. We’d hang at each other’s houses at night and whip up all kinds of junk food, watch movies, and during the day we’d take the kids to the park or some kind of play place to expend their energy.
By Friday of the second week, I was happy the weekend was here, but Miranda and I hadn’t discussed what we were going to do on our kid-free weekend. Her parents wanted to see Ashlynn and had offered to take her overnight so we had the night to ourselves. Ashlynn’s dad rarely saw her. He was a non-child-support-paying abusive loser, so she had Ashlynn most of the time, relying on family for babysitting.
She sent me a text as I pulled up at home: Gonna hit the base tonight. Military meat – yum!
I laughed and typed with my thumbs as I walked into my house: OK.
The weather had cooled off over the past few weeks, but another heat wave had hit and I once again groaned as I opened my front door, as it felt like a brick oven.
Opening all the windows, I went into my room and slid open my closet doors, trying to decide what to wear tonight. I plucked out my jean skirt and a tight red tank top. I found my thin, gauzy white button-up shirt and decided none of it needed ironing.
After some dinner and some Internet surfing, I took a shower and got ready. I stared at my small shoe collection and decided on white sandals with a small heel because I was so not wearing stilettos into a military bar. I briefly contemplated the cowboy boots with the skirt, but decided that was almost sluttier than the stilettos. I’d heard guys at Cowboys refer to them as FMBs – F-me boots – and I wasn’t going to go there. The skirt itself was already pushing it. I slipped on the white gauzy overshirt and tied it in a knot at my waist over the red tank.
Miranda pulled up in her red Civic thirty minutes later and I rushed out the door.
***
The base wasn’t very far, as it was adjacent to the prison camp we worked at. I just prayed to God no inmates would be around the place cleaning – even though I knew better, they never worked at night – but I didn’t put it past them to sneak out where they weren’t supposed to be, and I surely didn’t need any of those bitches seeing me like this. Trust me, you don’t want to be the subject of the inmate rumor mill unless you had been rumored to have kicked some ass.
She pulled the Civic up to the parking lot in front of the small bar. The base was a Reserve base, so it wasn’t exactly a bevy of activity. The bar had wooden beams stretched across its exterior, and several brightly colored alcohol signs decorated its windows.
We got out of the car and made our way up the four rickety wooden steps and they moaned in protest under our clacking footfalls. As Miranda opened the door, we could see the place was not very busy. A few scattered pool tables with low-hanging lamps swung above them, and an average sized bar stretched the length of the far right wall. A short, older Latino man with a friendly smile was working behind the bar, doing something with the cash register. Miranda and I made our way up to the bar. A loud George Strait song blasted from a jukebox in the corner.
“What can I get you ladies?” the bartender asked.
Miranda slapped a ten dollar bill down. “Two margaritas, please.”
The bartender smiled. “Coming right up.”
I leaned my back against the bar, propping my elbows up and looked around. There were random groups of men – boys, really – around the pool tables, talking, drinking beer, and shooting pool. They all looked alike for the most part, short military haircuts, young, no facial hair. They randomly looked over at us, but nobody approached us.
Miranda, who was always chipper, and always – always – talking, said, “So, where’s the beef?” before she took a long drag from the straw.
I laughed. “You’re so bad.”
She swallowed the pungent sour tequila mixture with a grimace and licked the salt from the rim. “No, for real. This place better pick up.”
I took a sip of my own and winced at the exorbitant amount of tequila that was in it. “I don’t know why we came here anyway. We should have gone to Cowboys. More beef there, especially with the mechanical bull.”
She laughed so hard she almost choked. “Touché, girlfriend.” After she recovered, she elbowed me and jutted her chin towards a pool table near the back. “Check it out. They’re hot.”
I followed her line of sight to two lone guys shooting pool at a back table. They were both tall-ish, one with almost black hair, the other lighter. They didn’t look like kids, unlike the rest of the boys in here, and Miranda smiled. They seemed to have sensed we were talking about them, because they both turned their heads and looked at us. I probably turned red but there was no way anyone would notice with how dark it was in the place.
I looked away and back to Miranda, who was fidgeting with her bracelet.
“Okay, so I say if this place doesn’t pick up in like an hour, we head out,” she said, sucking down the last of her drink.
I grinned up at her. “Okay.”
As I looked back out at the bar, my eyes drifted back to the pool table with the two guys. The dark-haired one seemed to feel my stare, as he turned his head again and looked over, locking gazes with me for a few long, uncomfortable seconds that made me hold my breath. After he looked away, he and his friend set their pool sticks down and disappeared to a back room, probably with more pool tables.
I ordered another margarita and was feeling quite saucy at this point, so I went over to another table of boys and asked if I could play. Miranda found another guy to talk to so I just shot pool for a while.
One guy, I think his name was Shane, said, “So what job do you have?”
I smiled at him. “I bet you will never guess.”
He looked at his friends, and another one said, “I bet you’re a nurse. Do you work at the VA hospital?”
I laughed. Why does everyone think I’m a nurse? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that. I could and would never be a nurse. Not only do sick people get on my nerves, I cannot stand waiting on people. Like, at all.
Shane grinned around the mouth of his beer bottle. “Not a nurse, huh?”
I took a long pull from the little black straw poking up out of the top of my glass. “Nope. I’m not in the Army, guys. My friend and I work at the prison over there.” I pointed in the general direction of the camp, as if they would even know.
Shane put his hands up in surrender. “Oh, crap. I didn’t do it, I swear!”
I rolled my eyes and smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” I winked at him.
So then I got the typical jail and prison questions, and an
swering a few of those, I thanked the nice young soldiers for not only their time, but their service as well, and went to find Miranda.
At this point, I was starting to see double. Yeah, after two margaritas – ones that are made right, anyway – I can start feeling quite good. Call me a lightweight, but it’s always been that way.
I made my way into a back room and kind of wandered around, ignoring all the eyes on me. I couldn’t find Miranda, so I turned to leave the room and someone stepped into my path.
“Are you lost?”
I slowly looked up to a short buzz of black hair and cobalt eyes that reminded me of the deep blue ocean. Flirtation and mischief were dancing in them and I could tell he was trying not to smile. Same look he had when he stared at me earlier from across the bar.
Okay, I’ll play, I thought. I raised a blonde eyebrow. “Do I look lost?”
He was holding a beer down by the leg of his jeans and his dark blue T-shirt looked black in the dim light of the bar. “No. What’s your name?”
He held my gaze without waver, and I liked his confidence, so I returned it. “Cara. You?”
“Riley.”
I half-smiled at him. “Riley. Have you seen my tall pretty friend with the long hair? I seemed to have lost her.”
“I did see your friend, but I would say you’re definitely the prettier of the two.”
Oh brother, now he was laying it on a bit thick. “Okay. Where did you see her?”
He jerked a thumb behind his shoulder and said, “She’s talking to my buddy, Dan.”
I stood on tiptoe and peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, Miranda’s smiling face was inches from Dan’s and I could tell she wouldn’t be talking to anyone else tonight. Dan had a mop of blonde hair on the top but it was shaved short on the sides and he was clean-shaven. He reminded me of a surfer type. He was much taller than her, and I know she liked that.
“So what are you drinking, Cara?”
I looked down at my empty glass then back up to Riley. “It was a margarita.”
Riley took it out of my hand, letting his fingers linger on mine a little too long. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave, okay?”
I gave him another grin and nodded. I watched him walk away and wow, he was one hot specimen. Even his walk oozed confidence, a swagger to be reckoned with. I leaned my back against the cheap wood paneling of the wall, my hands pressed behind me, one foot propped up against the wall. A Kenny Chesney song was now blaring throughout the place, and I watched other guys playing pool. I took a peek in the main area of the bar to see it was getting pretty busy. Not as busy as Cowboys surely would be by now, but I was having a good enough time. Cowboys was another thirty minute drive and I had no desire to go out anywhere else.
Riley returned with the glass almost overflowing and handed it to me. His beer looked very cold and he had liquid dripping down his hand. I had the sudden desire to lick it off, but suppressed the longing.
“Thank you,” I said, toasting the air to him. I took a sip and almost choked. “Boy, you must have tipped that bartender well,” I said through my coughs. “There’s enough tequila in here to tranquilize a horse.”
Riley’s head tipped back and he laughed. What a great laugh he had, too.
He watched me sip my drink, and my head was starting to get even fuzzier than before. I set the drink down on a nearby small round table and Riley watched my movements very carefully. Keeping my back against the wall, I also watched him, and he came in very close to me, also setting his beer down before placing both hands on either side of my head against the wall.
My breath caught in my throat as he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “So what do you do for a living, Cara?”
I barked out a laugh at the unexpected question. “My friend and I,” I pointed in Miranda’s general direction, although there seemed to be two of her now, “work at the prison next door.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Really? You sure don’t look like prison guards.”
I shook my head, which made me dizzier. “We’re not. We’re paper-pushers.”
I started to ramble about my stupid job again, but he didn’t seem like he was listening. He was watching my mouth – that much I knew – but if he was retaining any information at this point, I’d be surprised. He still had his hands on either side of my head and the close proximity both excited me and made me nervous. I watched as he licked his lips.
“But yes, I am around inmates all day, because that seems to be the first question –”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence because his mouth was suddenly crushing mine. I tensed at first, but then began to relax at the softness of his kiss. His mouth was delicate on my lips, treating it as a well-earned prize, and I returned his kiss. When his tongue lightly snaked into my mouth, I let out an involuntary groan and he reached around and laced his hands around my waist.
I slid my hands up into his dark hair and grabbed as much of the short locks I could. It felt silky between my fingers and I could tell he didn’t use any junk in it.
He pressed me hard up against the grain wood paneling of the bar’s wall and I could feel how much he wanted me. He broke the kiss when we heard laughing close by.
He looked at me with intense eyes as I gasped for breath, and I’m pretty sure I was seeing stars, too. I slowly broke his stare and turned my head to the right to see Miranda smirking at me. The cute blonde guy, Dan, had his fingers laced through hers with an arm around her waist.
“Having fun?” she asked, a playful smile on her annoyingly perfect lips.
I cocked my head to the side and smirked. “I was until you interrupted.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “C’mon, we’re gonna get out of here. Can we go to your house? My sitter is at mine.”
I looked at Riley. “Want to follow us back to my house? It’s only about eight miles.”
He looked at Dan and Dan nodded.
Looking back at me, Riley said, “Sure. Dan’s driving.”
As if I cared.
Miranda was in way better shape to drive than I was and she got us home in no time.
Dan parked next to my car under the carport, and as I slid the key in the lock, I could feel Riley’s hands wrap around my waist. I smiled and opened the door, tossing the keys and my purse onto the coffee table.
Dan grabbed Miranda’s hand and led her to the sofa where they apparently were going to continue the makeout session they’d started at the bar.
Riley was already a step ahead of me, obviously figuring out which room was mine. Guess the red race car bed in Aiden’s room was a dead giveaway.
I suddenly felt nervous and excused myself to the bathroom while he sat on my bed, curiously taking in the simple décor of my room. A queen-sized bed, a hand-me-down dresser, and a small desk with my laptop perched on it was pretty much all I had.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and began to talk to my reflection. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
Unfortunately, she didn’t answer me, she just stared blankly back at me, as if I had all the answers.
I made my way back to the room and kicked off my sandals. I walked to the window and opened it up all the way, letting the cool night air blow in through the screen. Thankfully, even though the day was hot, the nights cooled off enough to have the windows open. The room was stifling but I wasn’t sure if that was from the warm day or the electricity sizzling between us.
I made my way back to where he was now standing, watching me. Riley reached over and unbuttoned my gauzy white top and I shrugged it off, letting it flutter to the floor. He pushed me on the bed, and exuding confidence, he began to kiss me again in his delicious way. Tingles climbed up my back.
Now, I got married young, but before that, I had gone out to clubs with my fake ID and had kissed quite a few guys. I thought I was a pretty good kisser, and was a pretty harsh judge of kissers. I would say Riley was at least in the number two, if not number one spot at this time. There’s nothing b
etter than a man who could kiss.
He ran his hands through my short blonde hair and then trailed a finger down the length of my side until he hit my bare thigh, and I shivered.
My hands were exploring his back and I tugged at his T-shirt. He stopped his kisses and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. I let out a moan of satisfaction at seeing his beautiful chest. The shades on the lone window from my room were open slats, and there was enough moonlight seeping through them to allow me to see how wonderful he looked. A very small amount of hair on his chest, but defined pecs and abs. I was now putty in his hands.
He unzipped my skirt and slid it down my legs, running a calloused but gentle hand over my thighs. “You have beautiful legs.”
I smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He reached down to kiss me once more and we lay like that for what seemed like hours, kissing and touching but not removing any more clothes. He threaded a finger through the small band of my thong near my hipbone and I waited with baited breath to see if he was going to tug them off or not. He didn’t; he just continued to play with the material, running light fingers over the flat of my stomach between my hip bones and driving me crazy.
I could feel the strain of his excitement through his jeans and part of me liked just lying here touching and kissing, but another part of me – the sinful part – was begging for release, and I could obviously feel he was, too.
I broke the kiss and propped myself up on my elbows. When he looked at me questioningly, I used my fingertips to push him onto his back on the bed. He lay there in expectation, and without breaking eye contact, I unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. Yanking them off slowly, I let them slide slowly off the bed to join the pile on the floor. I then ran a finger around the waistband of his boxer briefs and his skin was hot and sticky there, no doubt from the heat of the room.
I slowly pulled the shorts off and let him spring free. He was very ready for me, and I suddenly had the desire to do nothing but pleasure him. I looked up at him and he now had a wanting look on his face; he was looking at me with both adoration and something else I couldn’t describe. Then he whispered, “Touch me.”
Patriotic Duty Page 2
