by Zoe York
Including her roommate.
“What the heck got under your skin?” Lila asked drowsily as she slowly drifted into the kitchen. “You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”
Gaby didn’t really want to talk about Trick surprising her at the restaurant last night, or the sleepless night she spent tossing and turning, thinking about the rub of his legs against hers and the way he stared at her mouth.
She definitely didn’t want to share any of that with her roommate, lest it later be revealed as a fantasy Gaby had constructed in her mind, but in case it wasn’t…now was the time to say something to Lila.
She sighed. “It’s not what, but who.”
“Oooh, boy trouble?” Lila pulled the cherry jam from the fridge and wiggled it in Gaby’s direction. “You want?”
She nodded. Yes, today was definitely a cherry jam kind of day. “It’s complicated. Or maybe it’s not, but it’s definitely complicated in my head.”
Lila popped in toast for herself and grabbed the vanilla-flavored coffee cream from the fridge.
“You’re up early.”
“You were being loud. You’re never loud. I thought it might be important.”
They weren’t close friends—that made them perfect roommates, really, because they could talk about shared bills and house rules without emotion getting involved. But Lila did friendly stuff without pushing—things like waking up early when Gaby was grumpy and realizing she needed jam. Asking if there were boy troubles, but not demanding details.
Gaby sighed. “Hypothetically, if I was interested in someone you’d dated…what would you want me to do about that?”
Lila snorted. “I don’t date.”
Gaby blushed. “You know what I mean.”
Her roommate shrugged. “I’d want you to be careful for you, but I don’t get possessive over guys. If you want to hook up with someone, that’s cool.”
“I don’t…” Gaby trailed off. This was why she dated quiet guys, guys like her. Because even though Trick had used the word date, and he’d never come out and propositioned her…maybe what he was angling for was just a one-night stand. Ugh.
“Is this a hypothetical question?” Lila tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t think we had the same taste in men. But I’m sure whoever it is, I don’t care. Unless he was a jerk to me. Then I’ll kick him in the nuts for pawing at my roomie.”
Gaby cleared her throat. “Have there been any jerks lately?”
Lila grinned. “How lately are we talking about?”
Gaby squeezed her eyes shut and fought a losing battle against the bright red embarrassment crawling into her hairline. “Last month or so?”
Amused laughter filled the kitchen. “Nope. No jerks lately.” Lila sighed. “But nobody I’d call dating material, either. All nice guys, but super clear on having no-strings rules, just like me.”
Gaby nodded slowly. She could be smart about this and enjoy Trick’s attention as long as it lasted. It’s just flirting, she reminded herself. And if he wanted more…well, she wasn’t usually interested in casual sex, but she was twenty-six. Maybe she needed to be a little wild, just once. Try it out before ruling it out.
She definitely wanted to kiss him. So much it hurt. When he’d handed her that mint the night before, her heart had started beating at double speed, and it hadn’t slowed down since. If she hadn’t pulled away…
But she couldn’t forget that he’d done that with Lila, too. Granted, her roommate kissed a lot of guys. And she probably hadn’t done exactly that with Trick. Just a bunch of other similar, more naked things.
It was a lot for Gaby to wrap her head around as they silently munched their toast. She needed to be sure that her silly little crush wasn’t the start of an ugly love triangle she had no hope of winning. All signs pointed to Trick and Lila not caring at all. She was the only one hung up on who’d been naked with whom.
Across the table, Lila slid out of her seat and grabbed the coffee pot. Without saying a word, she topped up Gaby’s cup.
“Thank you.”
“I’m not going to pry.” Lila smiled. “But make sure he’s worth all this heavy thinking you’re doing. Because you’re worth it.”
Gaby frowned. “What if I wanted to try something more casual?”
“Do you?”
That was the million-dollar question.
— —
Trick winced as he looked at the text message on his phone. One hour earlier and it would have made his day. Hell, his entire week. But just over twelve hours after he’d asked Gaby out, he was going to need to beg for a rain check.
Okay, I’m game for whatever you want to do tomorrow ~ Gaby
He clicked on the number it came from and stored her in his address book. Then he sighed again. This wasn’t going to go well. Maybe it was better to talk over the phone. He quickly tapped out a response. Can I call you?
Lunch is over in two minutes. Call me after four?
Crap. He was going to be on a military transport plane by midafternoon. I need to postpone lunch. Work reason. I still really want to see you.
A beat passed, then another. His thumb hovered over her name, ready to call her, not caring if she was surrounded by a bunch of kids. If she just heard his voice, maybe she’d believe him.
Okay, no worries. I have to go.
Damn. A thump at the door was his only warning before Lieutenant Jason Steyner stomped into the office where Trick had gone for some privacy. “Come on, Meyers is already steaming mad that we can only pull together a small extraction team. Let’s not piss him off further.”
“Yes, sir.” Trick cleared his throat. “I was going to make a call.”
“You can make it from Honolulu. Let’s go.”
But when they landed in Hawaii, all hell had broken lose, and by the time they got out of the briefing and had their orders, it was the middle of the night for Gaby.
He lay on his bunk and let himself slip into the mental review of what they’d do the next day. They were going to rescue a salvage boat and her mostly American crew of ocean treasure hunters, including a CIA operative who was apparently clever enough to be a spook but not clever enough to save himself from pirates. The boat had been boarded four days earlier, and yesterday they’d landed on a private island in the Pacific.
Trick’s team would do a High Altitude/Low Opening jump in the cover of darkness. He visualized each step of the HALO insertion. What they’d do if the wind picked up and dumped them in the ocean or jungle instead of on the intended beach. If they were seen. Their intel didn’t indicate the pirates had radar, but it was possible.
Anything was possible, but their plan would give them the best chance to take the island by surprise and hopefully save some lives.
And then he’d call Gaby, and hope she could figure out from subtext and charm that he deserved another chance at a date.
— FIVE —
“You really okay?”
Trick rolled his eyes at Chief Special Warfare Operator Nathan “Gibson” Meyers. Most of the time, the other man was his friend. They didn’t usually serve on the same team, but while Trick’s team was in Iraq, he was attached to Meyers’ group. And right now the usually laid-back Meyers was acting like a worried mother hen. “Fuck off, Gibs. Also, a bit late, don’t you think?”
Meyers laughed and looked around the V-22 Osprey aircraft they were flying in over the Pacific Ocean. “If I could have left you at home, I would have.”
“I’m fine.” And he was…his pulse was within normal parameters, his blood pressure was fine. He’d slept like shit last night, but that was mostly guilt over Gaby. No nightmares.
“The lieutenant says you haven’t been able to connect with a girl back home?”
Steyner had a big mouth, but it was his job as part of the command group to talk to the Chief about everyone on the team. Trick got that. Didn’t like it, though.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“She a distraction?”
“No
pe.”
“We do this for them, not despite them, right?”
Trick looked at his friend in surprise. “You got a girl, Chief?”
Meyers shrugged. “I got a face I see in my mind when I need to be good at my fucking job. That’s all that matters.”
This wasn’t a new debate. Trick’s teammate, Jared Sutter, had gotten married last year, and his wife was pregnant with their first child. The gentle giant didn’t blink at heading to Iraq. Meyers clearly fell on the same side of the argument. Lots of other men thought the special forces teams weren’t a place for married men.
Until a few weeks ago, it had only been an academic question for Trick, and he’d always leaned on the side of single being easier.
Now he wondered how dating Gaby could work if he’d failed to make their first official date. This is why you don’t date much.
The ten-minute warning crackled through their headsets, and training swept aside his scattered thoughts. Trick checked his kit once more, slid his mask into place, and waited for his turn to step out the jump door.
— —
The weekend dragged by, but when she hadn’t heard from Trick by Monday, Gaby tried to get on with her life as it had been before he’d sauntered into it. Before she knew what it was like to be pinned down by his thinking-of-sex gaze or receive one of his knowing smiles.
It was for the best, she told herself, that it hadn’t gone any further than a bit of flirtation. She’d just avoid The Wave for the rest of time, lest she accidentally see him hooking up with someone more his speed.
Or so she told herself over and over again, but none of it rang true.
At her midday break, she called Lila.
“Okay, I need to ask you an embarrassing question.”
Lila laughed. “Is it awful that I’m glad you’re bringing this up again, because I couldn’t be nosy?”
“Yes, that’s terrible,” Gaby teased. “No. Okay, so the guy…” She spilled the whole story, from the boots, to the beach, to the repeated meetings at the shawarma house. “And now he’s missing. I was hoping you might…”
“You know way more about him than I do.” Lila sighed. “I do know a few guys in the Navy, though, I can ask around.”
“Thank you. If he’s just dodging me…maybe tell me he’s been transferred to Alaska.”
Lila must have been able to hear the tremor of doubt in Gaby’s voice. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
“Is it weird that I want to make sure he’s okay?”
“No, not weird, but…maybe a bit…what’s the opposite of cynical?”
“Oh, shush. I’m not being naive.” Gaby sighed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, I did. I’m trying to convince myself.”
All afternoon Gaby had to force herself not to look at her phone. Do your job, don’t worry about that which you can’t control.
But after releasing the last of her charges to their parents, she kicked herself when she checked her purse and saw six unread messages.
Her heart in her throat, she swiped in and starting reading.
The first one was from Lila, something about good news, but she skipped right over it because the next three were from Trick.
Her thumb shook as she pressed on the bright screen, the pause before his messages expanded and filled the screen feeling like a lifetime.
Sorry about the radio silence, pretty girl. Got a bit busy.
What are you doing next Saturday? I’ll be back tomorrow night.
And nothing can keep me away from a date with you, if that wasn’t clear. Sorry, I’m a bit loopy. This is Trick.
She read the three messages over and over again, smiling so big her cheeks hurt. She didn’t pick up on what he wasn’t saying until the third read-through, and then she slowly sat down at her desk, her hands shaking from a completely different kind of fear.
Why was he loopy? And what had he been busy with?
She clicked on his name and pressed the call button.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Gaby.”
His voice sounded strained, and her heart ached. “I just got your text messages. Are you okay?”
“I’m a bit banged up, but I’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Where are you?”
He laughed, then wheezed. “You haven’t been given the girlfriend briefing yet. You can’t ask me that.”
They hadn’t even had a date yet—although maybe shawarma counted—and if he was hurt he was probably on narcotic pain meds, but he’d just said girlfriend. Relating to her. Her smile popped back into play, despite her worry. “Okay. But you’re coming home?”
“I sure am.” In the background someone started talking to him, and he muffled the phone receiver. “Gaby? I gotta go.”
— —
Trick reluctantly hung up the phone and turned his weary head toward Nathan Meyers and the military doc at the foot of his bed. He’d been there for almost an entire day, having narrowly avoided surgery on his arm. The mission had been a success, except for the part where Trick got into hand-to-hand combat with an irate pirate and came out of it with two fractures in his forearm.
At least he wasn’t the other guy, broken everywhere else.
Meyers coughed and held up Trick’s duffle bag—someone else had brought his ID and cell phone, but nobody had thought of clean underwear until now. “I brought you some clothes. Ready to get back on a plane?”
The doctor made noises about waiting another day to let his arm set while Meyers just grinned and nodded, knowing what Trick was going to say.
“Absolutely, brother. Let me get my gitch on and we can blow this pop stand.” He made an apologetic face. “No offense, doc.”
“None taken. You special forces guys are always a pain in my ass anyway.” The physician signed something on a form and handed it over. “Here are your discharge papers. See an orthopedic surgeon next week.”
“I’ll wait outside,” Meyers said, following the other man into the hall.
Trick knew he could have asked for a nurse to come in and help him—hell, one would probably come bustling in any minute, annoyed that he was yanking his boxers and pants on by himself.
But relying on others had never been his strong suit.
He was awkwardly stuffing his prescription bottles into the duffle bag with his left hand when his phone beeped with a message from Gaby.
You don’t sound loopy. You sound like you need a hug.
Jesus, he needed more than a hug from her. Even medicated, his dick stirred at the thought of Gaby playing nurse for him. She could help him with his pants. Help him take them off.
That sounds perfect, he responded.
Her last message was before he boarded the plane, wishing him sweet dreams.
A hug. Sweet dreams. All her awkward nerves. He probably had no right to pursue her. Everything about her screamed Good Girl and Fragile. Everything except the look in her eyes—that was pure steel. And damn it, he wanted that hug, and those sweet dreams.
They’d have to have a talk…soon. After some kissing.
Six hours later, they landed in San Diego. The commanding officer of the team was waiting for them, and he praised Trick for coming back with the group. Like there’d even been a question of it. Even with his busted arm, he wanted no part of a cushy commercial flight.
As soon as they’d finished the pleasantries, they were swept into another debrief. They’d achieved their mission objectives: the sensitive target was rescued along with the others, maintaining his cover. Some pirates had died. Others had been secured and would be dealt with by border officials in Honolulu.
And Trick was seen, yet again, by medical staff, this time for a brief psych eval, with the same psychologist he’d seen when he came back from Iraq.
She nodded at his arm. “I won’t keep you long. That must hurt.”
“I’ve had worse.” That was the thing with breaks, and she’d know it—once stabilized and casted, it was really just inflammati
on that caused discomfort. Another day or two, and he’d be right as rain.
“How’d you feel being on a mission?”
“Come on, doc. You know that was a routine thing, as was this.” He lifted his arm gingerly. “I’m fine. I was cleared for active duty.”
“But we decided you shouldn’t head back to Iraq. I just wanted to check in and make sure this wasn’t a mistake.”
He leaned forward and stared her straight in the eye. “I’m tired as fuck and need my bed. That normal enough for you?”
She laughed and held out an appointment card. “As long as we can have a longer talk next week?”
“Fair deal. See you then.”
Meyers was waiting in the anteroom, and Trick just shrugged. They didn’t talk until they were settled in the other man’s pickup truck. Trick would have to come back for his SUV in the morning, but he wasn’t stupid enough to fight about it now. He’d let Gibs mother-hen him a bit. Make the old man feel better.
“What are you thinking about?”
“How old you are?”
Meyers snorted. There were only two years separating them. “You’re staring thirty in the face. Don’t mock. Besides…chicks dig older guys. And scars. Chicks really dig scars. So any day now you’ll start doing okay.”
“Yeah?” Trick smirked and closed his eyes. God, he was so tired. And he only wanted one chick to dig him right now. “What time is it?”
“Almost four in the morning.”
“Damn.” And his phone was dead, anyway. He’d charge it and text her when he woke up. Yeah. Tomorrow…
The next thing he knew, Meyers was opening the passenger-side door and thumping him on his knee. “You need help up the stairs, there, old man?”
“Shut up.” Trick grabbed his bag with his left hand and hoisted it over his shoulder. ‘Thanks, man.”
They just stared at each other for a second. They both knew Trick was thanking him more for the mission and not making a big deal about the injury, than for the ride home, but whatever. It was all good.
