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“You're so damn embarrassing,” I say, giving a pointed glance to the decorative addition to his drink.

“I'membarrassing?”

“Fucking hell,” I groan. “Stop taking everything and turning it around like a question, like I'm some dumbass who's not catching on to what's going on around him.”

“Youarethat dumbass. These past few weeks have been hell for all of us, Playboy.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “What? Why?”

“The tension between you and Randi is extreme. We’re walking on eggshells around her, and you're no better. I'd say you both need to get laid to stop this madness, but that won’t help since you can't be together, and if either of you slept with someone else, it would be like dropping a damn atom bomb on our lives.”

“Has she mentioned wanting to sleep with someone else?”

His dark eyes roll to the ceiling, and he shakes his head and takes another sip of his Long Island iced tea. Most bars don't add the umbrella. Oh no, my best friend asks for it specifically. If you ask me, it’s his signal that he’s looking for a reason to fight. Just waiting for some smartass to make fun of him.

“That umbrella match your panties?” I ask with a knowing grin.

Yep, I'm that smartass who's also looking for a fight.

He's not wrong about the tension around the house. It's palpable. And I'm at the center of it every single day. I need something to help me let off some steam since I haven’t been able to get to the club lately to row. Taking Mess to Central Park at midnight is the worst idea I’ve had in a really long time, but asking for a beating from a cousin of the Hulk is a close second.

“I know what you're doing,” he replies. “Get your rocks off with someone else.”

“I'm not asking to backdoor you.”

“Fucking hell, Benson,” Tank chastises with a chuckle. “You're a damn moron. Me kicking your ass won't make things better. She'll still be keeping her distance, and you'll still have that constant hard-on at work.”

“Why can't she wear more clothes around the house?” I grumble. Lifting the empty longneck in the air, I wait until I make eye contact with the bartender and lower it back to the bar with a thunk.

“Because it's hot outside.”

“She's always cold. Why this week did she decide that shorts and tank tops were acceptable after work? And do her suits have to fit her ass so well? I mean, fuck, it’s like a little taunt every time she moves.”

“You're a terrible human being.” Tank laughs, smiling into his drink. “Have you not noticed anything besides her ass and legs this week?”

The bartender slides another cold one down the bar. The second it’s in my hand, I take a quick sip flipping through my memories of the week.

“I'm sure I did, but you have to admit her ass is distracting.”

“Only to you.”

“Did you have a point besides making me think about her butt?” With my free hand, I adjust my hardening dick. I can't help that every move, every breath of hers turns me on. It'd be one thing if it was just her body I was attracted to.ThatI could turn off easily. But oh no, not Randi Sawyer. No, that woman has enraptured me heart and soul with her wit, quick mind, and slight crazy.

His attention flicks down to where I'm adjusting myself. “Maybe Ishouldkick your ass, take the edge off.”

“Can't believe I'm saying this, but yes, please.”

Tank's loud rumbling laugh draws a few other patrons’ attention. “When you have a black eye for your fancy-ass dinner tomorrow night, don't blame me.” He nods to his drink and pushes the bar stool back. “You’re buying. Meet me out back. And, Benson, if you poke me with that thing, I'm breaking it.”

At his words, my cock softens and practically scurries up into my belly.

Huh, now I know what works better than a cold shower. I just need a voice memo of Tank threatening to crack my dick off to ease the constant boner I have at work nowadays.

A few quick swallows later, I skim the empty bottle a few inches along the bar. After tossing a couple twenties on the wet bar top, I slide off the hard stool and make my way through the growing crowd.

The humid, suffocating air smacks my face the moment I open the door. I suck in a quick breath and hold it, hoping it’ll help fight off the rising panic swelling in my gut. I'm teetering on the edge if I'm this close to snapping to memories of past deployments with just a flash of heat. The past few years I've done better at managing the instant tightness in my muscles, the dread and nerves the heat causes. But with my nerves at a constant high lately, it’s no wonder my buried emotions are on a hair trigger.

“You okay?” Tank asks, sensing my unease.