Air Force Hero

by Parker, Weston

  I hated how my eyes were drawn to his bottom lip pressed to the bottle and to the bob of his Adam’s apple every time he swallowed. His jaw and neck were covered in even more stubble than when I’d seen him last. He had the beginnings of a beard forming, and the look suited him. The dark hair made his hazel eyes appear even brighter, and the dark lashes that framed them had my heart doing weird little pitter-patters in my chest.

  “What are you up to?” he asked after draining a few mouthfuls of beer. He nodded toward the bar wall.

  “Reorganizing. Last night was pretty busy, and we ran pretty low on stock, so I’m bringing new bottles out from the back. But first, I wanted to put everything back in its proper place. I hate when things are out of order.”

  “Likewise.”

  I poured myself a glass of water and leaned one hip against the bar. “What are you up to?”

  “I was in the neighborhood. Getting ready to move into my new place tomorrow, so I was just at my parents’ old place to see what furniture I could take with me.”

  “How’s your mom doing?”

  “Better, I think. It’s still a big adjustment for her, but she’s handling it like a champ. It’s probably a good thing my dad went before her. He never would have survived without her.”

  I looked down at my feet. “I’m sorry, again, by the way. About your dad.”

  “Don’t be.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss my concern. “He lived a full life. Didn’t have any regrets. At least, none that I know of. And he went quickly. If it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being genuine, or if he was saying those things to make me stop talking about his father. I knew from Ryan that Zach had a tendency to be a bit closed off. He didn’t like to talk about personal things or his feelings, so discussing his father’s death was probably an “off the table” topic for him. But if it was me in his shoes, I knew I wouldn’t be okay. I’d be heartbroken.

  “You know,” I said slowly. “Just because all of that is true doesn’t mean it’s easy to be one of the people left behind to grieve the loss.”

  Zach paused with his beer halfway to his lips. “Of course it doesn’t.”

  I finished my water and left the glass under the counter. Then I turned back to the liquor shelves. I nodded, pleased with how much better it looked, and then said to Zach, “I’m going to run to the back quickly to grab more stock. Just give me a shout if a customer shows?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I went down the narrow hall from the bar to the kitchen and turned left into our storage room. It was full of booze, cleaning supplies, extra linens, toilet paper, condiments, and uniforms, among dozens of other things. I reached for a crate of gin and pulled it down, wincing as a sharp pain bit into my shoulder.

  I nearly dropped the crate and had to use the wall to steady it, and then I was able to slowly lower it to the floor. I grabbed my aching right shoulder and massaged it as I rolled it in its socket. I’d pulled something last night while manhandling Brett’s half-limp, drunken body from the bar to the truck, and then from the truck into the house.

  After a brief break to wait for the pain to fade, I bent at the knees and lifted the crate with my legs. I carried it out to the front, where Zach watched me lift it up onto the back counter. I grimaced as I maneuvered the box upward.

  “What’s that?” Zach asked.

  “Gin.”

  “Not the booze,” he said. “The face you just made. You hurt?”

  I shot him a defiant look. “I tweaked my shoulder yesterday, but I’m fine. Nothing a bit of stretching won’t fix.”

  Zach stood up, and I willed him to leave it alone. But I knew how hopeless that was. He walked around the bar and came behind it to stand beside me. He was closer than I wanted—close enough to smell him and to feel the warmth of his body in the air between us. I swallowed and took a small step backward.

  “How’d you hurt it?” he asked, his eyes darting from mine to my shoulder.

  “Not sure. It was just sore when I woke up this morning.”

  The way his eyes narrowed suggested that he didn’t believe me. “Let me help you put this stuff away, then.”

  “I don’t need your—”

  “I never said you needed anything,” he said sharply. “I’m just offering to help a friend. Is there something wrong with that?”

  I blinked. “No.”

  “All right. Then let me pass shit up to you for you to put away.”

  A little embarrassed for being overly defensive, I nodded and stepped onto the stool. Zach proceeded to pass bottles up to me, and then I neatly placed them on their designated shelf, making sure all the labels were centered and forward facing. Once we had unpacked all the liquor, I climbed down and tucked the ever annoying loose strands of hair behind my ears. “I have one more box in storage. Can you help me get it down?”

  Zach nodded. “Absolutely. Lead the way.”

  I took him down the hall and ducked into the storage room. I pointed up at a box on the top shelf labeled “Tequila”.

  “Just that one,” I said.

  Zach pulled the box down effortlessly from the top shelf and moved toward the door. Then he stopped, put the box down, and turned back to face me. His frame blocked the door, and I found myself staring up into his beautiful eyes. He glanced at my sore shoulder. “Tell me what really happened.”

  “Oh my God, Zach. Come off it. Nothing happened. I probably just slept on it funny. You know? Shit like that happens to people all the time. We can’t all be perfect physical specimens like you.”

  “I’ll consider that a compliment,” he said. “But really, what happened?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled at him. Who was he to think I owed him an answer? Where did he get off being so invasive?

  “Jo,” he said, stepping toward me and reaching out to gently touch my right elbow. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “What?” I blurted out, caught off guard by his forward question. “No one hurt me.”

  “Then why are you lying about what happened?”

  I studied him. He wasn’t going to relent. His eyes were hard and his jaw was tight. He’d keep digging until he got his answer. “Fine,” I growled. “My boyfriend had a few too many drinks last night, and I had to get him home. I hurt myself trying to hold him up, I guess. He’s a big guy.”

  “Brett?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Ryan must have told Zach about my relationship. Damn him. What else had he said?

  Zach rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “All right. I’m sorry I pushed so hard. I just had to know. If he was hurting you…” He shook his head and rolled his shoulders, dismissing the subject. “I’m glad to hear he isn’t.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. “You know it’s not your concern, right? Whatever happens in my relationship is mine, not yours. And I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why the first degree?”

  “I care about you,” he said simply.

  My cheeks started to burn. He cared? What the hell did that mean?

  Zach’s hand fell from my elbow, and he slipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Can I ask you something, Jo?” He didn’t wait for my response. He kept on rolling and asked his question anyway. “Am I the only one who hasn’t been able to stop thinking about our night together?”

  His question sent me reeling. My mind spun a mile a minute, and my heart raced. Blood rushed in my ears, my palms became instantly sweaty, and a little fire ignited below my belly.

  Of course I’d thought about him every day. He was the father of my son.

  Should I lie to him? Who was I protecting by denying that I’d thought about him constantly, too? Myself? Surely not. Brett, maybe?

  He was looking at me the same way he did that night five years ago, like he saw me and knew everything about my soul. He was waiting ever so patiently for me to make my thick ton
gue work so I could answer him. But fear was gripping my throat, and all I could feel was the fire inside me burning hotter, hotter, and hotter until a wetness pooled in my panties.

  “No,” I whispered.

  Zach leaned closer to me, his eyes moving from my eyes to my lips and back up again. “No, what?”

  “You’re not the only one who hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

  Then, before I could think to stop him, Zach wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. His mouth crashed against mine, and I tasted the beer on his tongue and peppermint on his lips. His fingers pressed into the small of my back as his breathing quickened. We were plastered so tightly to one another that I could feel his heart beating against my chest. Strong and steady.

  There was only way I could capture what the kiss felt like: relief.

  15

  Zach

  Whatever Jo had on her lips tasted like cherries. She smelled like summertime, and the soft press of her body against mine had me feeling short of breath. Her fingers wandered up the back of my neck and tightened into fists in my hair. She let out the softest sigh as I lowered my hands to cup her ass and pulled her closer to me.

  Jo’s hands wandered back down my neck until she was holding my face and kissing me greedily. Her sighs turned into needy moans, and I walked her backward until she was backed up against the shelving unit on the back wall of the storage room. She arched herself up and bumped the shelf, sending half a dozen rolls of toilet paper down upon us.

  Giggling, she broke away and looked up at me.

  Then her expression changed, and she let go of my face. She dropped her hands to her side, went back down to her flat feet, and broke eye contact.

  “I’m sorry, Jo. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine,” she said hurriedly. “Really. I shouldn’t have kissed you back.” She cleared her throat and pushed her hair back off her face. Her gaze darted to the box on the floor behind me. “Can you carry that out to the front for me, please?”

  I’d fucked up. I should have kept my head and refrained from kissing her. I could see how torn she was. Her forehead was creased, and it seemed as though her thoughts were screaming at her. Guilt was etched into her eyes.

  I turned and picked up the box. Her footsteps were soft behind me as we returned to the front of the bar. She climbed up onto the step stool once more, and I passed her the bottles as we had done before until the box was empty. Then she got down and tucked the stool away.

  I went back to the other side of the bar and sat on the stool. I watched her pour herself a drink that was fifty percent water and fifty percent vodka. She splashed in a bit of cranberry juice, dropped a lime in it, and then pounded it back like a total champion. She dragged the back of her hand across her lips and finally looked up at me. “Beer?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  Jo opened a bottle of beer for me and refilled her glass with only water. The bar wasn’t busy at all. There were two tables at the back with a few people sitting around them, and one waitress was serving them. I wished there were more people around. The hum of other voices might have helped to break the thick tension between us.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I said, hoping she would be open to hearing my apology this time around. “It was selfish of me.”

  Jo shook her head. “No. It’s all right. I could have stopped you if I wanted to.”

  Was she implying that she hadn’t wanted to stop me?

  She sighed and gave me a tender smile that made me think she had forgiven me—or forgiven herself. “I just feel bad for doing that to Brett. It’s not fair to him, you know?”

  “I get it,” I said, even though I really didn’t. The guy wasn’t good enough for her. He was a schmuck. I’d seen how he put his hands on her in the parking lot. He’d made it very clear that he didn’t respect her, and a guy like that didn’t have a line in the sand not to cross. Eventually, he’d push too far, and Jo would find herself in a tight spot.

  Hopefully, I’d be there to get her out of it.

  Jo brought her glass of water with her as she walked around to my side of the bar. Sliding onto the barstool on my right, she leaned forward to rest her cheek in her hand and her elbow on the bar. She sipped her water through her straw and fixed me with her bright green eyes. “So tell me what’s new with you.”

  I chuckled and gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “Not a hell of a lot. Spending most of my time helping my mom unpack the last of her boxes. Staying in a hotel until tomorrow morning when I can finally move into my place. It’s all pretty mundane, to be honest.”

  “You miss the Air Force?”

  “Almost as much as I miss my dad.”

  Jo nodded knowingly. She lifted her glass and encouraged me to raise my beer when she extended it out between us. I tapped my beer to the edge of her glass. “A toast to that, then,” she said, and then she sipped her drink. I followed suit. “To good fathers and our service and the undeniable pull we will always feel to go back to what we loved.”

  “You should have been a poet, not a bartender.”

  “Excuse me.” Jo laughed. “I am not a bartender. I’m a manager and soon to be the owner of this gem.” She held her arms out wide as if to encompass the entire pub.

  “It is a gem; I’ll give it that. Your dad built a good place. Good people and what not.”

  As the words left my mouth, Rosie, the pretty dark-haired waitress, popped up on Jo’s other side and smiled brightly at us. “Afternoon, you two,” she said. She was wearing a white dress that flared out at her waist and was covered in red roses. “How’s it hanging?”

  “Hey, Rosie.” Jo smiled. “Good. Been a slow afternoon, so Zach and I were just catching up. I didn’t know you were on shift today.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t. Bella called in sick yet again, and I offered to cover. You’re going to have to do something about that girl, Jo. She’s as useless as a dead leaf on a branch.”

  “She’s young,” Jo said. “She just doesn’t understand responsibility like we do. I think she’ll come around if we give her another month or so.”

  “You’re too nice,” Rosie said, lifting her nose and shuffling behind the bar. “That attitude won’t get you anywhere, you know? I say cut your losses. Give her the boot. What about you, Zach? What would you do?”

  I looked back and forth between the two women who were staring at me expectantly. I felt like I was hovering over a bear trap. “Uh—”

  “Uh, what?” Rosie asked, widening her eyes at me.

  Jo rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She’s pushy.”

  “Don’t hate me,” I said. “But I’m with Rosie on this one. You have to watch out for your business. If someone doesn’t respect you or the pub the way they should, they have to go.” I wasn’t sure if she would realize that what I was saying applied to both this Bella girl and Brett, but it did.

  Rosie nodded, clearly satisfied with my answer, and pointed a finger at Jo. “See. That’s just common sense right there.”

  Jo blew out a breath and her cheeks puffed out. “Fine. I’ll fire her.”

  Rosie, quite pleased with herself, clapped her hands together and walked off down the hall to what I assumed was the back room to put her uniform on.

  Jo looked at me flatly over the rim of her glass. “I’m thinking of making her assistant manager when my dad hands ownership over to me. Do you think that’s an incredibly stupid idea?”

  “Not at all. It’s good to have someone who’s opposite of you. That way, you get other perspectives. She’s a little,” I paused, trying to find the right word, “intense, but I think you can play that to your benefit, right?”

  “I guess. Poor Bella. I think she’s trying to move out with her boyfriend. She lives with her mother right now, who sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “Don’t feel bad for her. If she’s not willing to put in the work to change her situation, that’s on her, not you.”

  Jo gav
e me a crooked smile. “You looking for a job? You’d be a great assistant manager.”

  I laughed and leaned back on my stool. “No, actually I just got one.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Humanitarian Assignment right here in Houston. I start in two weeks. Needless to say, my mom is thrilled. It will be a strange change of pace, but I’m hoping for the best.”

  “So you really are staying, hey?” Jo asked.

  “Sure am.”

  Jo frowned as she stared at her now empty glass of water. “Do you think you’ll regret it?” She looked up suddenly, as if realizing how personal her question was. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just… I really miss the Coast Guard sometimes.”

  “No need to apologize,” I said. I’d pried her for answers about her arm. I was no hypocrite. She had the right to ask me whatever she wanted, and I would be truthful with her. “I don’t know if I’ll regret it. Right now, I know it’s the right choice to make. My ma means more to me than being in the air, and at the end of the day, it’s just that simple.”

  “Simple,” Jo said quietly.

  “Yes. I know that I would have more regret if I didn’t come home. I want to be here for her. Life is funny. You never know how much time you have left. Maybe if I had no one I loved, I would return to the Air Force. And if that happened, I don’t know if I would consider it a win, you know what I mean?”

  “Look who’s the poet now.” Jo grinned.

  I laughed as Rosie returned from the back. She had wrapped a black apron around her waist and tied her hair up in a ponytail. She glanced under the bar and then up at Jo. “Can you make me my special drink?”

  “Of course,” Jo said as she slid off her stool. She went behind the bar where she whipped up Rosie’s concoction quickly. She dropped a Maraschino cherry in when she was done, then a red straw, and passed it to the bubbly waitress.

  Rosie pursed her pink lips around the straw. After her first sip, she smiled appreciatively. “You’re the best boss ever.”

  “I know.”

  “And so humble,” Rosie said.