Page 2 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

“Look at the ass on that one.”

“Seriously, look, before she’s gone!”

His companion elbowed him. “See?”

Private Johnathon Simmons rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“It’s a nice ass. What else do you want? Am I supposed to be drooling over it like some middle schooler?” Sloane asked.

“A man can appreciate a nice ass at any age,” John said, looking like he was trying for dignified but falling short and looking pouty instead.

“Appreciating isn’t the same as drooling. Told you that when you creeped out the last girl who went through here,” Sloane grunted.

“I was flirting.”

“You were fucking creepy.”

“You just don’t get it.”

The third member of their front gate watch trio, Trisha, snorted. “He gets plenty.”

Sloane turned his glare on her. “Thanks.”

Trisha shrugged, barely acknowledging his foul expression. “When it’s true, it’s true.”

John sniffed indignantly. “Well, not all of us are gifted with stupidly good looks, alright?”

Sloane rolled his eyes, returning to the conversation with his sister.

He would much rather deal with her drama than listen to Simmons whine about how he couldn’t get lucky.

It didn’t matter what anyone tried to tell the private, Simmons would continue bemoaning his fate, never once considering that he might be the problem.

If he wanted to moan, groan and carry on, that was his business, but Sloane wasn’t willingly going to feed into it.

“Sloane looking good is only half the battle. The fact that he doesn’t treat every woman like a starving dog treats a pork chop is the other half,” Trisha shot back.

“I do not! Plus, how is it fair that just because I show an interest, that’s a bad thing? He just grunts at everything, and they fling themselves at him.”

“Hey, some people find the grunting sexy.”

“Only because they don’t have to work with his crabby ass.”

Sloane looked up, glaring. “Only people who complain about me are jackasses like you. Quit your whining.”

John jabbed a thumb at him. “See?”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Trisha said.

“I’m not either.”

Trisha shrugged. “No, he’s a grump, that’s Sloane, you get used to it. You’ve been stationed here what, a couple of weeks? You’ll learn to love his glares and insults right along with the rest of us.”

Sloane eyed her. “Quit encouraging him, or he’ll never shut up.”

“I like hearing him whine. Gets me all tingly inside.”

John flopped back in his seat with an annoyed grunt. “Is that the answer? I just have to let women torture me, and then I’ll have their attention?”

Trisha winked. “Maybe you should try it.”

Sloane finished the rest of his message, desperate to block out the chatter from his companions.

Why General Winter thought Sloane needed to be posted at the front gate and stuck with two other people was beyond his understanding.

Sloane wouldn’t consider himself a paragon of introspection, but he knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t a people person.

People didn’t like him, and most people drove him absolutely crazy.

John glanced at him. “Who’re you talking to anyway?”

“Don’t start sticking your nose in my business just because you can’t get laid,” Sloane grunted.

“Hey!”

“It’s probably Dean,” Trisha said, returning to the book in her lap.

“Dean?”

“The Doc.”

John’s eyes lit with realization. “Oh yeah! I forgot you two were friends.”

Trisha picked the book up with a shake of her head. “You have the attention span of a gnat.”

“Wait, but isn’t he like...you know,” John began, waving his hand around in a vague fashion.

Sloane looked up. “Isn’t he what?”

John gestured emphatically. “You know.”

Sloane knew exactly what John meant, but he wasn’t going to make the conversation any easier on the private.

Sloane wished he could have been paid for every time some smart-ass decided to comment on either Dean’s sexuality or their friendship.

He would have had a nest egg waiting for him to make a strong start in civilian life once he was done in the military.

John stopped, cocking his head. “Wait, how does that work?”

“How does what work?” Sloane asked with a growl.

John frowned. “How do you get all these girls? That ain’t fair?”

Trisha sighed. “Oh, boy.”

“I’m not gay,” Sloane said.

“Yeah, but?—”

Sloane narrowed his eyes. “I’d ask you if it would be any different for you to be friends with a woman, but I don’t think you know how to be around a woman who isn’t Trisha without acting like a fucking idiot.”

“Only because I’ll break his fingers,” Trisha piped up.

“Just because I’m friends with Dean doesn’t mean I’m with him,” Sloane continued, ignoring her.

John wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t it...weird, though?”

“How the fuck would it be weird? It’s called being friends. You have those, don’t you?” Sloane demanded.

“Well, yeah, but they’re not, you know?—”

“The word is gay. You can say the word without suddenly wanting to have a dick in your mouth,” Sloane growled.

Trisha snorted, but John’s frown only deepened. “You don’t worry about him like, trying to hit on you, or get with you, or like...you know.”

Sloane set his phone down on the desk and leaned forward, dangerously close to the private.

“Just because you don’t know how to exist around the gender you’re attracted to without acting like a fucking pervert doesn’t mean everyone else can’t.

What he does or doesn’t do isn’t any of your goddamn business, and if you don’t want to end up losing a few teeth before the end of the shift, I advise you to shut the hell up about him. ”

John’s eyes widened, and he visibly leaned away from Sloane. “I...alright, touchy subject.”

“It isn’t touchy until someone gets stupid enough to run their mouth. Now fuck off and go check the fence or something. I’m tired of looking at you,” Sloane snarled.

John opened his mouth and glanced at Trisha, who subtly shook her head and thought twice about whatever he was going to say.

With wide, wounded eyes, he pushed out of his seat and stomped out of the booth that served as the main gate to the base.

Sloane watched him go, glaring at his retreating back and not letting himself relax back in his seat until John was out of sight.

“Dumbass,” Sloane grunted, snatching his phone back up to read his sister’s reply.

“Gotta give him credit. He looked like he was going to finish what he was saying, even with you ready to rip his lungs out,” Trisha said, flipping to the next page.

“I don’t have to give him credit for shit,” Sloane grunted.

“And, of course, he won’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Fine, let him tell people. Like I give a shit.”

“Which is only going to add to the rumors.”

Sloane looked up, wondered if he wanted to know, and finally gave in. “What rumors?”

Trisha looked up, her thin brow raised. “That you and Dean are more than just friends.”

“Oh. That,” Sloane said, turning his attention back to his phone.

From the moment he and Dean had become friends, the rumors about what he and Sloane were actually up to when no one was looking had started.

They bothered Dean more than anything, which Sloane thought was weird as hell.

He didn’t give a shit what anyone thought he was up to. He had nothing to prove to any of them.

“You would make a cute couple,” Trisha added.

Sloane sighed. “Don’t fucking start.”

Trisha chuckled. “You would. You have that big, manly, grumpy thing going for you, and Dean is...well, the doc is Doc.”

Sloane turned a scowl on her. “You saying he’s not manly?”

Trisha didn’t even blink. “There’s manly, and then there’s Sloane, six-plus feet of pure muscle, tattoos, and growly barking manly. Truth be told, it’s a little weird thinking of you with a woman or at least a really feminine one.”

Sloane blinked. “Excuse me?”

Trisha shrugged. “Putting someone girly with you seems weird.”

“This is the weirdest conversation I’ve had with you, and I’m not even sure what the fuck we’re talking about now.”

“Really? After almost eight months of working with me, this is the weirdest?”

“It’s close.”

It was hard to believe he’d been assigned to Fort Dale for only eight months and even harder to believe it had been mainly spent on guard duty. How he’d gone from a soldier in the field, leader of his squad, to manning a hut on some far-flung base was a mystery.

Sloane rubbed his brow. “I don’t care if people start talking about Dean and me being something, alright? It’s not true, but it’s not going to stop people. Just fucking wish people could mind their own business.”

Sloane was comfortable with who he was and with who Dean was.

What did it matter to him if Dean was attracted to guys?

All that meant to Sloane was that it would be useless to talk about women with him if he even wanted to.

It wasn’t like Dean had been dating while they’d been friends; he was too busy working or deployed.

The two months Sloane had been taken out of the field and posted to Fort Dale, while Dean had continued to be deployed, had been lonely.

Sloane had been ecstatic when he learned Dean was not only coming stateside but that he was being assigned to the same base.

That was until he’d seen Dean for the first time, and something had been. ..wrong.

Trisha shrugged. “I don’t care if you two are an item, banging quietly on the side, or simply cuddle buddies. I’m just telling you what everyone else is going to say.”

“They’ve been saying that shit since boot camp. I don’t give a fuck. Dean’s a good guy and my best friend. Everyone else can fuck right the hell off,” Sloane snapped.

Trisha looked up again. “Need an aspirin?”

Sloane pulled his hand away from his forehead. “I’m fine. It’s just a headache, probably from the stupid conversations I’ve had to endure today.”

Trisha hummed thoughtfully. “How’s the family?”

Sloane glanced at her, unsure if he should be relieved that she was changing the subject or suspicious.

He’d been working alongside her long enough to know the woman was far more devious than her casual demeanor let on.

Then again, more than many people he dealt with save for Dean, she knew how far she could push him before he lost his patience.

“Fine. Shawna’s learning what dating is like,” Sloane said, easing back into his seat.

Trisha chuckled. “Poor thing. I remember dating at that age, don’t recommend it. And how’s big brother dealing with it?”

“I’m just fine. Thank you very much.”

“Really?”

Sloane looked up. “I’m not some asshole who’s going to go barging into her business.”

“Really?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Trisha chuckled. “You and I both know you’re very protective of the few people you let yourself give a shit about.”

“And I can’t do anything from here, now can I?” Sloane asked.

“But you can text her,” Trisha noted.

Sloane shrugged. “Best I can do at the moment. I will call her later, though, to ensure she’s alright. She’s a good kid, got a good head on her shoulders when she can remember it’s there. Sucks for her now, but give it a few weeks, and she’ll realize it’s not a big deal.”

“And probably have found another boy to do the same thing with,” Trisha said.

Sloane wrinkled his nose. “I hope she learns better than that.”

“When it comes to matters of the heart, nobody learns,” Trisha said.

Sloane sighed, unable to argue with her logic.

He’d gone through his own trials regarding romance when he was younger, and he supposed everyone had to go through it at some point.

In many ways, he’d been like a parent as much as a brother to Shawna when she was growing up and, to a lesser extent, his other sister.

Sometimes, it was difficult to accept he couldn’t do much for them except be a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear.

“And your mom?” Trisha continued.

“The same as always. I keep trying to get her to take some time off, but she won’t,” Sloane grumbled.

“Mmm, stubbornness is a family trait I see.”

“She doesn’t need to work as much as she does anymore. Between Lena and me contributing, she shouldn’t be working herself so hard,” Sloane said.

It had made sense when Sloane had been too young to do much more than grab the occasional odd job.

But with him and his sister old enough to have full-time jobs so they could contribute, and his youngest sister being the only one left in the house, his mother should be less hard on herself.

Yet, she was not a woman to be deterred so easily.

Sloane could confidently say his mother should no longer be working sixty-hour weeks as she had when he’d been younger.

“Maybe she likes being busy,” Trisha offered.

“Or she just likes giving me a headache,” Sloane grumbled.

“It’s a mother’s prerogative to torment her son, or so my mom likes to tell me,” Trisha said.

Sloane eyed her. “Please tell me you’re not the one working the double with me tonight. I’m not sure I can handle any more of this heart-to-heart.”

Trisha looked up from her book. “Nope, going out tonight, but you and John will be best buddies all night.”

Sloane stared for a moment before leaning forward to check the roster. Sure enough, Simmons’ name was right there next to his, all the way through to morning.

Sloane groaned. “Damn it.”