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L eaning back in his chair, Charles “Chaz” Madden tapped a thoughtful finger against his beer bottle as he kept a close eye on the object of his desire and tried not to drool. Lottie Russell hustled behind the bar, pouring drinks and keeping up a steady stream of conversation with customers.

The tiny blonde made him feel things he desperately tried to ignore.

It didn’t matter how much he liked her, though. The bubbly dynamo could never belong to him. It was a fact he had to accept. They lived in two completely different worlds. A long time ago, he’d sworn off the very things she needed—a serious relationship and a man to be a father to her little girl.

But he was damn sure allowed to look, and his gaze soaked up every ounce of her brilliant, golden aura.

Although lately he’d noticed she wasn’t her usually optimistic, cheerful self. He couldn’t miss the slight shadows under her bright blue eyes or the way her brow furrowed more than usual.

Something was bothering her and he wanted to know what. He’d move heaven and earth to fix it, because Lottie should always be happy. Hell, she reminded him of a Disney princess. While he was grumpy, she was a damn ray of sunshine, and all he wanted to do was bask in her warmth. To know what it would feel like to hold her sunlight in his arms.

Too bad, Madden , he thought, taking a swig of beer. She’s way too good for your jaded ass.

Dragging his attention off her before the other guys noticed and started busting his balls, Chaz looked over the crowd in Old Glory. The hole-in-the-wall bar belonged to his buddy Brandon Ward who sat across from him at the scarred, wooden table. At the moment, Brand was trying to convince his fiancée, Julia Evans, to move up their wedding date. The former Delta Force commander was the definition of pussy-whipped and he wore the moniker like a badge of honor.

The chair creaked beneath Chaz as he shifted his weight, trying to ease the pressure off his old bones, and his gaze inevitably wandered back to Lottie. Just like it always did. He zeroed in on her pink-polished nails as she popped the top off a bottle of beer and passed it across the polished bartop. The way he couldn’t stop staring, you’d think she was up there dancing half-naked on a pole.

The image of her topless in a barely-there g-string sent his blood roaring south. Cursing his hard-on, he finished off his beer and let out a long, low breath. Hell, at least he could still get it up, which was more than some guys in their late forties could do.

Thank God. On the verge of turning forty-eight, he had enough fucking issues. More than anything, he hated how thin his hair was getting. Annoyed enough by it, he’d spent two hours researching specialty shampoos and hair transplant surgeries online. After placing an order for the most convincing shampoo, he’d gone to bed that night and tossed and turned, unable to settle. His hips ached more often than not, and most nights he spun more than a damn rotisserie chicken, trying to get comfortable.

He could thank his special ops career for the way his body was falling apart. The rigorous training and demanding missions had taken their toll. In his twenties and thirties, he’d pushed himself to the absolute limit. Now, on the verge of fifty, he was paying for it.

“Hey, Chaz, what did I tell you about eye-fucking the help?”

Clenching his jaw, Chaz didn’t bother to look at Brand. His only response was lifting his middle finger at him.

On his right, Alexander “Lex” Battle laughed, and Chaz fisted his hands, resisting the urge to punch his friend’s pretty-boy face. The former Navy pilot was cocky as hell and always had a woman chasing after him. Not that Chaz cared. There was only one woman he wanted, but she didn’t look at him that way. He and Lottie were merely friends, if that.

“You may as well tell the wall, Brand,” Lex said with a smirk.

“Yeah, Chaz is so hard-up for Lottie, he can’t see straight,” Jayson “Jay” Knight added. Jay would be the next one to turn fifty and Chaz couldn’t wait to give him shit. The single father was former Army and experiencing some serious empty nest syndrome since his daughter Emma got engaged and moved out.

“ Hard being the key word,” Lex said, and Jayson howled.

“Aww, leave him alone,” Julia said, sending Chaz a little, supportive smile.

“You need me to mop up the drool?” Jayson asked, leaning over and wiping his napkin on the table in front of Chaz.

Knocking the other man’s hand away, Chaz scowled.

“I think Chaz and Lottie would make an adorable couple,” Ellie said, cozying up to her husband, Weston “Murph” Murphy. The man only had eyes for her and doted on her endlessly.

For over a year, Wes had thought his wife died in a tragic accident. Then, not too long ago, they’d found their way back to each other. They’d battled amnesia and pirates to do it, and while Chaz didn’t believe in miracles or love triumphing over all, Wes and Ellie’s story was as close as you could get.

No, his jaded ass believed in divorce papers, a bitter bitch of an ex-wife and a personal battle that had left him more drained than ones he’d fought with the fucking Taliban. Samantha’s true colors came out a year after saying “I do,” and he wouldn’t wish his horrible experience with marriage on anyone.

Hence, why he’d rather eat nails than ever risk walking down the aisle again. No pussy was worth the hell he’d gone through.

“The help is off-limits,” Brand reiterated.

“No one can stop true love, Brand,” Julia said, cupping his face. “Not even you.”

Brand merely grunted then caught her mouth in a kiss. While they made out like a couple of horny teenagers, Chaz ground his molars and rolled his eyes. His motley crew of bachelors was coupling up right and left. And although he was happy for Brand and Wes, he knew getting married was the last thing in the world he wanted. He still bore the scars from his first disaster of a marriage.

Lottie deserved every good thing on this earth, and that included a husband to take care of her and her little girl, Reya. He didn’t have to have kids of his own to appreciate how hard Lottie worked. He couldn’t even imagine the stress of being a single mom. She needed Prince Charming, and Chaz could readily admit there was nothing noble or charismatic about him. He was more like Grumpy from Snow White. Just a whole helluva lot taller.

As if she felt his stare, Lottie suddenly looked up and keyed in on him immediately. Her blue eyes never failed to captivate him. They were the color of a Montana sky in summer and he wanted to get lost in them. Her glossy lips edged up in a smile and she gave him a little wave. Damn . His heart slammed against his ribcage. Resisting her sweetness was growing impossibly hard.

“Have you heard from Corey lately, Murph?” Jayson asked, and Chaz tuned in to the new topic of conversation. It was much more to his liking than all the lovey-dovey crap, or the constant ribbing from the guys about Lottie.

Corydon “Corey” Emerson was a bit of an enigma. Chaz didn’t know what happened to Corey during his time serving, but he’d been a Navy SEAL with Wes and now experienced some pretty heavy depression. PTSD was a bitch—one they all dealt with to a certain degree—but Corey more so than the others.

“He’s hunkered down in his cabin, avoiding people. And life,” Wes added, not sounding happy. Chaz knew how close the two of them were and it sucked when Corey pushed everyone away.

“Maybe one of us should stop by and check on him,” Lex suggested.

Wes gave a sad shake of his head. “He just needs to sort through his shit, and that’s not easy.”

They all nodded, knowing the heavy toll life in spec ops could take on a person. It wasn’t a job for everyone and sometimes even the strongest fell. The trick was figuring out how to get back up again, and Chaz hoped Corey would be able to figure it out.

“Well, fellas, I hate to break up this sad-ass party, but I have a date,” Lex announced, standing up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Don’t be too jealous.”

He looked pointedly at Chaz and Jayson.

“Eat me,” Chaz grumbled.

“Pass,” Lex responded cheerfully. “I’ll let Lottie have the honors.”

Before Chaz could tell him to fuck off, Lex strolled away.

“Any word from Mitch yet about a new mission?” Chaz asked, turning his attention to Brand.

“Not yet,” Brand answered.

General Mitchell Evans, Julia’s father and their handler, was a former four-star Army general. In other words, a total badass and the ultimate warrior, even at sixty-seven.

“Dad said the bad guys have been quiet lately,” Julia said.

Mitch had named Brand the commander of their little squadron and he’d recruited the other guys out of retirement. Together they formed a ghost ops team and took on dangerous, secretive missions jointly run by the military and CIA. They worked off the books, taking jobs no sanctioned team could. Hell, they’d all jumped at the offer because they’d missed the good ol’ days. Sure, they couldn’t run quite as fast these days, but war was what they knew best.

For Chaz, it was the only thing he’d ever been good at.

“Where’s Hawke?” Wes asked, adjusting his prosthetic beneath the table. He’d lost his right leg below the knee, but you’d never know. He kept up with the others just fine and had more determination and spirit than anyone Chaz knew.

“He said he had to go out of town for a couple days,” Brand answered.

Xander Hawke, the seventh member of their ragtag team, was former CIA. Although the guy had proven himself an asset—most recently when he’d dismantled a nuclear bomb—Chaz still had questions. Something about Hawke wasn’t on the up and up. He liked the dude, but at the same time, he was still a bit of a mystery. And Chaz liked having answers, not more questions.

His gaze drifted back over to Lottie and the urge to check on her couldn’t be ignored. Unable to stay away another minute, Chaz scraped his chair back and stood up. “I’m gonna get another beer.”

His only answer was knowing smirks from everyone. Assholes .

Turning, he strode through the small crowd. September was the time between peak and off-peak season, and the tourists wouldn’t pick up again until skiing. And that was absolutely fine by him because it meant things quieted down and he didn’t have to deal with out-of-towners. Plus, September in Cielo Springs, Montana was damn beautiful—dry and high seventies during the day and cooler at night.

Positioning himself at the end of the bar, he waited patiently while Lottie finished with a customer. He glanced down at the menu, although he knew it by heart. Good thing, too, because the small print looked blurry as hell. A couple of months ago, he’d gone to the eye doctor and gotten a pair of readers which he never used. The day he pulled them out, he knew he’d never hear the end of it. Those guys would have a field day.

“Hi.”

Chaz looked up and locked gazes with Lottie’s baby blues. Everything inside him responded, and although he could be a selfish bastard, he knew without a doubt he’d do anything she asked with zero questions.

His sunshine. She brightened his grumpy soul in every possible way.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked.

“Hanging in there.”

He searched her face and frowned. Normally, she’d give a bubbly or playful response. Concern filled him and it only amped up the impression he got that something was bothering her.

“You seem down. Where’s all that sunshine you’re usually spreading,” he teased, voice gruff. Holy hell, was he flirting?

She pasted on a fake smile. “Just a little tired.”

Averting her gaze, she began cleaning the bar with a wet rag.

“Lottie?” She looked up. “Do you need anything or—”

Her blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “No, but thanks. Reya’s been sick so I haven’t gotten much sleep the last couple of nights. Guess I’m just a little out of sorts.”

Whatever was going on with her had been going on much longer than two nights. She hadn’t been her normal perky self for weeks. Maybe it wasn’t any of his business, but if he could help her, he wouldn’t hesitate. If anyone deserved happiness, it was her, and he hated seeing her struggle.

“You’re sure?” he pressed.

Her composure slipped a notch before she forced another overly-bright smile. “Yep, all good. Excuse me, gotta get back to work.”

She spun away and he could’ve sworn he saw her eyes glisten with tears. Dammit. Something was going on with her and he was going to find out. Because if anyone dared to fuck with his Sunshine, he planned on putting a boot so far up their ass, they’d never walk straight again. Then he’d kick the ever-living shit out of them.

Nobody made Lottie cry. Fucking nobody.