Noah’s reluctance was palpable, but he stayed on Bennett’s heels. The black, three-hundred-pound bouncer on the stool out front waved them in.
“He didn’t even ask for our IDs.” Noah had to raise his voice to be heard over the music and everyone else.
Bennett hit Noah’s chest with the back of his hand. “It’s the uniform, man. Hollis is a horny idiot, but he’s right about that. Let find a spot at the bar.”
Bennett scythed through the crowd, his uniform and size clearing a path, and he and Noah took up a corner of the bar. The female bartender walked over as soon as Bennett signaled with two fingers, wiping her hands on a formerly white towel thrown over her shoulder before propping her arms on the bar and leaning over.
“What can I get you boys?”
“An ice-cold longneck, if you have it.”
She nodded, raising her eyebrows in Noah’s direction. He held up two fingers. She was back in thirty seconds with the beers, condensation dripping down the sides. Bennett drank half of his in one go, the cold slipping down his throat and through his body like nectar. It had been before BUD/S training since he’d had a drink, and damn, it was good.
Noah killed his, too, and the bartender returned with two more without asking. This one Bennett savored. He turned and took in the scene.
A dance floor took up the far corner, mostly populated by women and surrounded by men checking them out. Tables and chairs were strewn in the space between the dance floor and the bar with clumps of friends or couples sitting close. Waitresses circulated with trays lined with shots.
A half hour passed with Noah and Bennett sharing two more beers. Two women approached, both cookie-cutter pretty but too drunk to carry on a conversation. When one of the women fell into Noah and he brushed her off like she had cooties, they moved on. Noah visibly relaxed.
“You not interested in anyone or just them?” Bennett gestured toward the retreating women and sent a side-eye glance toward Noah. “Might be good to blow off some steam.”
Bennett crossed glances with the bartender again. The heat between them sparked, the invitation as clear as if she’d spoken aloud. A non-Navy-issued bed, preferably with a willing woman in it, was almost too much to deny. Yet he didn’t want to leave Noah on his own. Or worse, at the whims of Hollis and Carter.
“Nah.” Noah scuffed his shoe on the floor, his gaze lowered. “It wouldn’t feel right.”
“’Cuz of that girl back in North Carolina?”
Noah nodded and Bennett took another drag off his beer before answering. Considering his longest relationship was however long he’d spent on leave, Bennett was flabbergasted a relationship strong enough to survive months of separation had sprung up after a week.
“Forget firecrackers, she must be a damn Roman candle in the sack.” Bennett chuckled.
An unmissable blush ruddied Noah’s cheeks and cut Bennett’s amusement at the knees.
“No fucking way.” Bennett turned to Noah. “You haven’t even had sex with her yet? And you’re hanging on like she’s the Holy Grail or something?”
Noah turned to face the bar. “Jesus, could you keep your voice down. I know it makes me sound like a first-class pussy, but I can’t help it. She’s special, man.”
“How can you even know that?” In Bennett’s experience, women seemed special. Until he got into their pants, and then they invariably tried to manipulate him or mold him into what they wanted. Because what they sure as hell didn’t want was a taciturn loner without any family and with even less charm.
“We’ve been emailing and writing.”
“And you two have some exclusive deal or something?”
“We haven’t exactly talked about it.”
Bennett rubbed his forehead. “Let me get this straight. She could be screwing the brains out of every football player on campus while you turn down a willing woman?”
Instead of getting mad or defensive like Bennett expected, Noah laughed and with a smile still lingering said, “She is not out banging football players. Not her style. If she was going to bang any group, it would probably be the debate club or science bowl guys.”
Bennett snorted, but something that felt like jealousy excavated a place in his chest. He crossed glances with the bartender, her smile holding promises of a mindless night.
The appeal faded, and he scraped at the label on his beer, his eyes downcast. “What makes her so different from any other woman?”
“She’s smart. And funny. And a little quirky. She grew up with no TV and only read books.”
TV had been his constant babysitter. Mindless garbage, yes, but it had connected him to an outside world that wasn’t as bleak as his own.
“Is she hot?”
“She’s the kind of pretty that doesn’t need all the makeup and tight clothes.” Noah gestured toward a gaggle of women on the hunt. “Check out this last letter I got from her.”
Noah dug out a piece of paper from his pocket and smoothed it out on the bar. The lined notebook paper took him back to high school. Bennett picked it up and tilted it toward the bar light. Her handwriting was bold and loopy and distinctly feminine.
Noah,
Hell Week sounded … hellish. Do you have any free time or is it all work, torture, work? My life is mostly study, test, study. But I did make friends with a couple girls in my dorm, and we went to a college bar to hear a band. They were loud. That’s about the nicest thing I can say. I had fun, though, and a couple of drinks. Purple Hazes. They were delish (and dangerous). Although, not to worry, my roommate has turned our room into the Virgin Vault. Instead of posters of hot musicians, she has the Madonna and Child on one side and Jesus on the other. I haven’t told my mom I’m living with a bible-thumper. She’s not exactly into traditional religions (understatement!). Back to studying for me. More push-ups and running and genuflections toward the Monster for you?
Harper
Bennett grunted. She sounded … nice. Too nice and sweet with no fire. Maybe that suited Noah, but he wanted a woman who challenged him and wouldn’t put up with his crap. He doubted such a woman existed. He refolded the letter and handed it back to Noah.
“All right then, Peaches, no women tonight. Only booze and a little fun.” Bennett clinked the neck of his beer against Noah’s. His face flooded with relief.
Women came and went and so did the beers. Bennett was feeling pleasantly fuzzy in the head when flailing arms in a tan shirt on the dance floor grabbed Bennett’s attention. Laughter spurted out of him, and he pointed. “Jesus, I never would have pegged Carter as a dancer.”
Noah squinted and then collapsed against Bennett, laughing his ass off. Bennett hung on the edge of the bar, doubling over as Carter gyrated like he needed medical attention. Bennett wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed this long and this hard. Tears blurred his vision.
Between his laughter and the alcohol slowing his brain processes, he didn’t sense the situational change until the first punch was thrown.
He straightened and grabbed Noah’s arm, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Oh hell no. Fight. Let’s go.”
While he didn’t particularly like Hollis or Carter, he couldn’t leave them outnumbered. Maybe they’d all make it through BUD/S and end up brothers-in-arms; maybe they wouldn’t. But, until one of them quit, they were bonded by a trial of fire.
The dance floor had turned into a melee, women ducking out of the scrum and men joining it. Bennett waded in throwing elbows to heads to clear a path. Carter was being held by one man while another took a sucker punch.
Bennett let out a deafening holler and grabbed the man who was doing the punching by the back of his shirt, spinning him around and landing a jab on his nose. He went down but had plenty of friends.