Page 261

Story: Men of Fort Dale

Marco took the bag, fingers brushing Carter’s before he released his hold on the handles. “And it’s the exact one too. My favorite. Thank you, Carter.”

“Stop thanking me,” Carter huffed.

Marco had to hold back a laugh. “Alright. But you also ordered the same amount, meaning there’s enough here for two people with big stomachs.”

“Subtle,” Carter grunted.

Marco smirked. “Fine. Carter, would you like to come up and help me eat some of the food you were nice enough to buy me?”

Carter shook his head. “No.”

“Okay,” Marco said, hoping the disappointment fluttering in his gut didn’t show on his face.

Carter grimaced. “I mean, no, I can’t. Not that I don’t want to. I was only supposed to come into town to grab a couple of things and get back to the base. Sergeant Dickhead is already going to have my ass for taking this long. Any longer, and I won’t see the outside world for weeks instead of probably the next couple of days.”

Which could be just another way of saying hedidwant to come up for a little while. Then again, Marco wasn’t going to push. As much as he suspected Carter was trying to be nice and maybe something a little more personal, Marco felt he probably shouldn’t push too hard.

“Well, I don’t want you in any more trouble,” Marco told him, meaning it.

Carter shrugged. “Worth it this time. Reynolds can go fuck himself for all I care. Shit, maybe that might make him less of a prick.”

And there it was again, the kindness, all wrapped up in bristling, angry wrapping paper.

Marco smiled. “Well, thank you again.”

“Marco.”

The growl only made him smile wider. “You did two things for me in five minutes. I’m thanking you for it. Get over it.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Fine. You’re welcome.”

“Maybe,” Marco began, taking a backward step toward the door, “I’ll see you around again?”

“Yeah,” Carter grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Marco, still smiling, turned to unlock the door to the apartment building.

“Ugh,” Carter grunted, turning Marco around. “Do you dance?”

Marco blinked. “Uh, yeah. Whether or not it’s good dancing is probably up to someone else, though.”

“Drink?”

“I’ve been known to partake, yes.”

“Work weekends?”

“Sometimes, but haven’t needed to in a while.”

Carter yanked his hand out of his pocket and shoved his phone toward Marco. “Here. Put your number in.”

“Is this your way of asking if I want to dance and get drinks with you?” Marco asked with a knowing smile, accepting the device.

“I don’t dance.”

“You just want to see me dance.”

Carter scowled. “Do you want to go or not?”

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