by Alison Mello
“This is the best news. You have no idea how much this means, but I need to leave. She’s waiting for me.”
Out of the band of four military brothers, he was the only married one. Dipping his head low, he still couldn’t quite believe he was. That she agreed to be his. Everything had happened fast, perhaps too fast, but he wanted her like nothing before in his entire life. His selfish need made him dive head first, and he wouldn’t settle for anything less than his ring on her finger. From the moment his eyes met hers, there was a connection. It sparked a moment that transcended all boundaries of time and space for him.
Rafe didn’t believe in love at first sight—more like lust—but with her, she clicked into place like a missing piece completing him. But he wondered whether he hadn’t already lost her after dealing with all the shit that came with a broken Navy SEAL. Another slap on his back lifted his attention to his friends once more.
“I know you love her. Now get out of here. You’re going to be late,” Niall said.
Checking his watch, he nodded and placed his beer back on the table. “It’s great news, Niall. We’ll talk over the weekend.” He grabbed his black dinner jacket.
“In that suit, she won’t be able to resist you. Go get her and bring her home. Drag her if you must. You two belong together. This news will blow her away.”
Rafe gave a short smile at Niall, who was his closest friend in the group, and hoped to hell he was right. He’d been an idiot to let her go in the first place. “I will.”
Standing there, soaking in the fresh air and letting the brisk breeze wash over him, the irony of his situation was not lost on him. He couldn’t forget the past. It greeted him daily in snapshots when he least expected it. But for Summer, the past didn’t exist. She was moving on. Maybe it was time he did the same. A vibration in his pocket made him pull out his phone, and up flashed the details of the bar Niall had mentioned. Determined to move forward, he messaged back.
Several hours later, he slid off his Harley. The shouts and argument from the emergency meeting whirled around his head. Rafe hung his helmet on the handlebar and strolled toward the low-lying renovated brick building called The Bar. The elegant three-story structure with long, plain glass windows at the front and a view of the bustling main street was a welcome sight.
Marching to the slim glass doors at the entrance, he grabbed the sleek silver handle. Large potted plants guarded either side of the main doors, which he opened. The inside hummed with loud chatter and lively rock music. A mouthwatering scent of beef and onions greeted him as he stepped inside and examined the long, L-shaped black bar where customers sat eating. He surveyed the cavernous interior, noting how most of the materials and furniture were recycled. A variety of worn couches in shades of blue and others in black leather dotted the spacious venue, with low-lying tables made of stained wooden crates. He smiled, liking the lived-in vibe and modern feel to the place.
Rafe nodded at the hefty doorman, strolled to the long bar, and sat down on the chrome-and-black stool. He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and checked his watch, which read six-fifty. He was early. The others weren’t due here until eight, but he couldn’t wait until then. It had been a long day. Rubbing his right leg, which throbbed like a bitch every now and then, he stared at the variety of liquor bottles on the shelf, in need of a shot of whiskey.
“What can I get you?” A beautiful blonde with razor-sharp hair in a tight, sleeveless, white T-shirt and denim shorts that barely covered her tiny ass smiled at him.
Sucking in a deep breath, he forced a smile at the young woman, who leaned on the bar, giving him an eyeful. There was a time when a simple chat-up line and mild flirtation took no effort, but today he was way out of practice.
Willing his mind to relax and daring his mood to lighten, he browsed her curves and ran his gaze up to her pretty face. The woman pointed her finger at her mouth and tapped her red lips.
Maybe a casual hook up would ease my tension.
At that moment, the front door banged loud enough to dislodge his glances, which switched toward the new customer at the entrance.
Summer.
He did a double take.
Well, of all the bars in all the towns in the world, she walks into mine.
An electric charge raced through him. She liked the classics, and he liked Humphrey Bogart.
Automatically, he raised off the stool to go to her as she stared around, helpless, alone, and lost, but the suit with glasses from earlier appeared from nowhere and caught hold of her hand, stealing her away.
The caveman in him wanted to stop what was going on right under his nose, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sat locked inside his cool military façade, detached and destined to this living hell. Adrift. He twisted the stool to observe the two as they progressed through the bar as if in slow motion. Summer flicked him a nod as she sashayed past, but he didn’t react other than to watch, mesmerized, as they waltzed to the back and sat down by the dance floor. Swiveling the stool back around to face the barmaid, he stared again at the row of bottles on the shelves.
“Jack Daniels, straight up.”
There was no way he could remain without fortification. Shaking his head, he toyed with the idea of flirting with the barmaid. But as he rubbed his forehead and threw a glance back over his shoulder, a bitterness swirled inside his mouth, which told him he couldn’t.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Coming right up.”
Rafe knew he should leave, but the barmaid poured the amber liquid into a glass and slid it over to him. He caught the glass in his hand and picked the tumbler up to drain the contents before she had even replaced the cap on the bottle. All the while, he kept his eyes set on her curves, and he slammed the glass down on the bar once he had finished. Without asking, the young woman refilled it and perched herself against the bar, displaying her assets as she chatted to the customers nearby, but her eyes trained on him. She propped her elbows on the work surface and talked about the game on the overhead television. He glanced up and caught a picture of Tom Brady from the Patriots. Memories like ghosts were at every turn haunting him.
“Do you want some company while you drown your sorrows?” She gestured her head toward his glass.
Well, there was a loaded question.
He swirled the glass, studying the contents at the bottom, deep in thought. “What time do you finish?” Rafe kept his eyes pinned in front.
“I’m here until close.”
He nodded.
Damn Summer to hell.
Fate had sent her, like it had that day that inexplicably changed his life forever.
“Sir…Rafe, come on, man. You don’t know what the medical board is going to say, so stop this fucking pity party you’re on. You’re here, not like the others who didn’t make it. At least you still have your leg, not like Niall. He said to drag your sorry ass out of this shit trap you call home.”
To be honest, when his friends arrived an hour ago, it hadn’t taken much for him to be persuaded to leave the apartment because he was going batshit crazy, and he knew as much as his friends continued to be positive, he would be discharged.
It was the right decision. He wasn’t in the right mindset anymore.
Sitting here now, in the packed-to-the-door and noisy Irish bar, did nothing to improve his dark mood one bit, though. Even the alcohol, which had been a staple part of his current diet, did nothing. All he could see was the last precious moments before impact when Niall and Slater joked about going into business together when they left the SEALs. Nothing the counselor said, nor the medication he was supposed to take, would change the outcome.
Their laughter ended as an explosion blasted and rocked the ground, lifting him clear off his feet and hurtling him through the dust-filled air. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands to block the sight out. The heavy rock music and beer hops odor grounded him, and he gritted his teeth before he lifted his head to study his surroundings. Out of the gloom of his dark
thoughts stood a stunning vision. His gaze fell upon a beautiful sight before him. A bunch of girls lined the bar, chatting away. He observed the giggling young women for a moment, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from one. Everyone else faded in comparison.
He picked his pint of beer off the small black table and tilted it toward the pretty brunette who caught his eye.
She faced him across the crowded room, surrounded by her pack of female friends, and despite the world still moving, her eyes lingered on his. Her dark as whiskey eyes appraised him and held his with equal measure.
He liked that.
The earth didn’t shake beneath him, but it should have. She stole his breath. Long, thick hair fell in waves to her elbows, and as he stared back, savoring the beer, he swallowed as she twisted a silver heart that lay at her delicate collarbone. The blonde next to her shoved her in the ribs and giggled. A stain of pink colored her cheeks, and the spell they were both wrapped up in ended. She looked away and turned her back on him, but he stood and sauntered over in her direction, as if compelled to do so.
Closing his eyes, his gut told him to go over to where Summer sat with her date. The man looked successful and as if he had everything figured out, unlike him. But this time, he didn’t move. The stool squeaked next to him, and a slap on his shoulder also made that maneuver impossible.
“Hey, man, you shot off like a bullet after the meeting. Did you come straight here?” Gabriel chuckled.
“I needed a shower, asshole, and I needed to sort my head out,” Rafe said.
Chayton sat on the other side of him and signaled for the barmaid.
“Well, that was some fucking announcement today from Niall. Don’t get me wrong. I like the idea of helping underprivileged kids. I like it a lot, but I’m not sure we will get this grant he’s on about.”
Rafe heaved out a long sigh and was grateful that Gabriel and Chayton had arrived earlier than planned. Anything to take his mind off Summer. He tugged on his beard and sipped the whiskey before he answered.
“Niall will do his best. Look, I have a few leads from the Boots to Business online course we took. I’m going to follow up if we don’t receive the go-ahead. We have what it takes to make this work, Gabriel. You shouldn’t doubt it. We simply need to adapt as problems arise because they will arise. Also, the idea of increasing Markham’s forty percent share is out of the question. He owns too much as it is. We have what it takes to make this venture a success, so there’s no way I’m letting a hundred grand stop us after coming this far. Now, what are you drinking?”
Gabriel studied him, and his mouth softened into a wide smile. “And that right there is why you make a great leader—always visualizing success.”
“I’m a stubborn man, and when I set my sights on something, I don’t let anything stand in my way. That’s all. Besides, failure is not an option. You know that.” Letting his words sink in, his attention briefly touched on Summer before lifting away.
“Who’s buying?” Chayton asked.
Rafe slapped Chayton back. “First round is on me.”
They could do this, his gut told him without a doubt, even if he had reservations about Niall’s plan. He worried over the matter of insurance and the cost that would be involved having children at the survival center. Listening to Niall earlier, an idea percolated, and he wanted to undertake more research before he said anything to the others. If the worst happened, he would contact his parents. Feeling the heat of eyes upon him from behind—perhaps only in his imagination—was enough to make him swivel around to check on Summer again and back to face a scowling Gabriel, who eyed his glass.
“Is that whiskey, man?”
He set the glass on the counter and looked behind the bar for the sexy woman, whose name was…he couldn’t remember. Had he even asked? He shook his head, and as he eyed the long black bar, she reappeared. His friend’s hand slapped down on the bar and drew his gaze away.
“How long have you been here, Rafe?”
“Too long.”
Rafe flicked his gaze back at Summer, aware his friends might think he had a twitch. She sat there, facing him, all cozy with the suit at her side. Her boyfriend rested his arm along the back of the couch, staking his claim. Adrenaline surged through his blood, pumping his mood up to the dark and dangerous level. A need to toss Summer’s date out on his ass rose inside him. Instead, he tore his gaze away and clenched his fist. But ever observant Gabriel darted to the side and stared with his black-as-coffee eyes.
“What the fuck? Is that Summer? Shit. What the hell is going on?”
At some point, Rafe figured, he would get caught, but an explanation wasn’t forthcoming—yet. The barmaid lingered near him, and as his friend’s voice rose, he stared at the bottle in her hand but doubted the alcohol would be enough to help him forget.
“What’s your name, honey?”
“Cindy. Do you want another?”
“Yes, to both questions.”
She smiled broadly and tipped the liquor as he held the glass.
“Rafe, we need to leave, now. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but this isn’t going to help any. Rafe.”
The bite in Gabriel’s tone caught his attention. The team looked out for each other like brothers. If one hurt, they all hurt. Maybe his friend was right. They knew some of his story and history with Summer.
Shit.
“I’m fine. Hell, Summer’s doing fine. Look at her. She’s lovely and as fucking clueless to her allure as ever.”
The smile on the barmaid’s face vanished, and she pushed away. Rafe didn’t care. He pivoted the stool around as a lively tune played on the jukebox. At that moment, Mr. Suit got to his feet and pulled a laughing, rosy-faced Summer to the dance floor. Sweaty bodies crammed into the tight space, swaying back and forth. Rafe tracked their every step, unable to tear his line of vision away. As Summer walked, she stumbled and bumped into a man. She laughed as she apologized and strolled along with a sway.
Rafe hung his head low and cursed under his breath. That action from Summer made him sober up in an instant.
She’s drunk.
Leaping into action, he slid off the stool and shrugged off his friend’s attempt at pulling him back to saunter to the edge of the busy dance floor.
Sometimes you needed to act.
He scanned the sea of bodies to search for her, but the multitude of people blurred together, and he lost sight of them in the crowd. An urgent need to charge after Summer and throw her over his shoulder, if necessary, rose in his gut. A forceful tug on his shirt dissolved that thought, and he turned to face Gabriel.
“Rafe, come on. Talk to me, man. You were a mess last time. Is that what you want again? How long has this been going on?”
He pressed his lips together, unwilling to share that piece of information. Rafe knew how crazy he looked. “Does it matter?” He tilted his head but stared away.
“Maybe not right now, but we need to talk this through. Look, if you charge over there, you’re asking for trouble. Is that what you want?”
Rafe stood close to Gabriel and glanced toward the bar where Chayton, the youngest of the bunch, flirted with the blonde. Nodding, he agreed and sighed at the futility of his situation.
“You know me better than that man. I’m not looking for a fight. I didn’t want or ask for any of this,” he bellowed as the music drowned out his words. But he stared at his friend, who was right. He had come too far with STEPS to mess it up now. He headed back to the bar, but an urgent shove at his back forced him to twist around.
Summer raced past him and dashed ahead. His gaze followed the man on her heels. Rafe glanced at Gabriel, who shook his head. But he didn’t need his permission, and he’d be damned if he would ask for it. Before his friend stopped him, he charged after Summer. She needed him. It was as simple as that.
CHAPTER 7
Rafe
Standing outside the ladies’ restroom was the suit, minus his jacket, with his hand flat on the door looking une
asy. As Rafe approached, the man pushed his glasses back up his slim nose and gave him a swift once-over.
“My date’s in there. She’s only had two glasses of wine, but she’s feeling sick. Do you think I should go in? One minute, she was fine, then…”
Rafe inhaled a deep breath, sure the blood pumping through his veins would rupture an artery at its velocity. Summer was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. There were a few times when she had exceeded her limit, and a smile played on his lips at her behavior when she did. No way in hell was he letting Summer go home with this guy who stood on the sidelines.
“It doesn’t take much sometimes,” he said as detached as possible. Rafe eyed the man, who hovered outside the door, and he inched closer. Unable to stand still and wait any longer, he pushed the door wide.
“I’ll go and see if she’s okay?” Rafe glanced at the slim man who studied him but eased back as Rafe stepped inside.
“Are you sure? She may be sick. Perhaps it’s better to wait.”
The door slammed as Rafe caught the man’s parting words. There was no way he was waiting any longer. Studying the restroom with a wall of mirrors to his left and tasteful cream and purple wallpaper to his right, he proceeded. Moving quickly, he knocked on the first closed toilet door, but there was no reply. He swept his gaze around at the other doors, but those were all empty.
“Summer, it’s me. Are you okay?”
Silence greeted him for a moment, but as he pressed closer to the last door, wondering whether he would need to break in, he heard a low moan.
“Summer.”
“I’m sick. Leave me alone. I’m a mess.”
“You need some fresh air and water. Come on. Open the door.”
“Didn’t you hear me? What the hell are you doing in here, Rafe?” she snapped.
He paced back and forth in front of the door and scratched his head. Summer’s patience evaporated when she lost control. When she drank too much, she became emotionally vulnerable, and no one knew her dark secrets quite like he did. Only he knew how to handle her and make her feel better.
