Page 12

TRENT

I read Sara’s text roughly six-thousand times as I’m lying in bed waiting for daybreak to come.

I roll over in bed, barely aware that the world’s plushest pillow is cradling my head. Holyfield gave me a room for the night, making it clear that I wouldn’t be welcome to stay beyond that.

“This is a one-time exception to our resort rule about guests.” He sounded exhausted and I wondered what Sara had told him. “I want your ass on that plane home tomorrow.”

He also advised me to stay in my room unless summoned. He didn’t specify who might summon me, which turned out to be Sara’s soft cries.

She didn’t technically call out my name as she touched herself there in the moonlight. But I swear there’s a reason I knew to go walking last night. To peer up at her balcony just as she opened that satiny robe .

Some unseen force keeps pulling me to her. Pulling us together, in spite of the reasons I know I should stay away.

Does she feel it too?

Come to my room at 10 a.m. Knock first this time.

It’s just before six, so I get out of bed and do ten sets of thirty-rep pushups, followed by the same number of sit-ups. I also manage a few rounds of pullups on a bar I suspect was meant for more carnal acts.

And now that I’m thinking of sex, I rub one out quickly, picturing Sara touching herself in the moonlight.

God, I’m a pervert. If Sara is smart—which she is—I’ll show up in her room to a gathering of strangers ready to punch me in the junk. She’ll run away laughing, grateful she got out of chaining herself to my sorry ass for the rest of her life.

At least I made sure of that. After the secrets I spilled, there’s no way she could possibly be tempted to tether herself to me for the rest of her life. She’ll move on with some guy who deserves her. Who can give her the beautiful life that she’s dreamed of.

Picturing that hurts way more than getting kicked in the ribs with a steel-toed boot. Or rammed in the face with the butt of a rifle. Or hit with a?—

A heavy knock sends my heart skidding into my ribs. I’m sure it’s not Sara, but I can’t help hoping as I jog to the door and twist open the knob.

“Yo, Frogman.” Logan shoves a big plate of food in my face. “Eat up.”

I look down at the tray he’s just thrust at me. There’s a tall glass of orange juice, plus bacon and eggs and a lopsided stack of pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. A bowl of fresh berries sits off to the side, along with a big mug of coffee.

“Did you piss in it?” I look up to see Jarhead smirking. “You did, didn’t you? ”

“Nope.” He strolls into my room, not waiting for me to invite him. I wouldn’t have done it in any case.

“Make yourself at home,” I mutter, glancing back down at the tray. There’s a weird little bowl filled with colorful pellets and I frown as I study them. “Are these pills?”

“Huh?” Logan turns around and sees what I’m looking at. “Oh, nope.” He chuckles. “They’re freeze-dried marshmallows. Like the kind you get in kiddie breakfast cereal?”

I must look at him oddly because the dickhead keeps explaining.

“Lucky Charms, that’s the one.” He snaps his fingers as I try not to gape at him.

“They’re like the marshmallows from that stuff, but minus the cereal, you know?

I can’t get enough of ‘em, but maybe that’s me.

I don’t know what the fuck frogmen eat besides the souls of their enemies. ”

“Marshmallows.” What an odd thing to include.

I’m thinking of Sara now, wondering if she’d like these little colorful confections. I pick one from the bowl and pop it in my mouth, feeling it soften on my tongue.

“Good, huh?”

I don’t like admitting Jarhead is right about anything. “Not bad.”

“So,” Logan says, striding over to a little round table by the window. “Just wanted to chat with you real quick.”

“All right.” I want to be pissed, but the guy brought me breakfast.

Grinning, he flops his big frame into one of the chairs. His long, muscled legs sprawl out in front of him, one of them marked with a thick, jagged scar.

When he catches me staring, he nods. “Got it in the line of duty. Raiding a warship in the Gulf of Aden.”

“Shitty place to be.” I’ve been there myself, and it’s a cesspool of pirates and gun runners. “Thanks for the food.”

“No prob.” He watches me walk to the table and join him.

I set down the tray and dig into the bacon first. “If you came here to kick my ass for making Sara cry, I’ll save you the trouble. I kicked my own ass all night.” I bite into the bacon, which is crispy and salty and fucking delicious. “Also, I doubt you could kick my ass.”

Jarhead scoffs and watches me eat. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Yep.”

He’s silent a while, watching me mow through the bacon. I start in on the eggs next, grateful for Jarhead’s room service delivery. “Thanks for the food,” I mutter. “And for giving me a chance to talk to her yesterday.”

“Did it give you some closure?”

I scowl at him over the rim of my orange juice. “Closure?”

“Or whatever the fuck you needed.”

I shake my head slowly, not wanting to get into it with this guy. “I spilled all my secrets to Sara and she ran away crying.”

One sandy brow quirks up. “ All your secrets?”

A jolt of unease rattles through me. “What the fuck?”

He watches me with a knowing expression that makes me want to wipe that dumb, charming grin off his mouth. His eyes are a light, eerie hazel, and I don’t like the way he keeps staring. “Talked to a buddy of mine last night,” he says slowly. “A squad leader from my old platoon.”

“And?” I sound like a belligerent dick, but he’s provoking me on purpose with his jovial Boy Scout impression. “I know a few jarheads.”

“I know you do.” His eyes lock with mine and I shiver. “Does the name Scott Heath ring a bell?”

I’m out of my seat in an instant, ready to pummel his ass to a puddle. The dickhead just laughs and kicks at the leg of my chair. “Sit your ass back down. I’m not blackmailing you. Your secret’s safe with me. No one makes it as a consort this long if he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.”

“Jesus.” I do what he says, sick to my stomach and wondering if I’m about to see that bacon again. “What is it you think you know?”

The guy quirks an eyebrow. “You want me to spell it out for you?”

I don’t. I’ve never uttered a word of what happened that day, and I’d rather Jarhead didn’t either.

With my stomach still lurching, I go back to shoveling eggs into my mouth. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

Ignoring shit landed you here, you dumb fuck.

Logan just studies me with a smirk I can’t stand.

“What?” I demand with a mouth full of pancake. “Why did you bring it up if you’re not planning to blackmail me?”

He answers my question with a question. “Does Sara know?”

I stare at his smug, stupid face, which seems to give him the answer he’s seeking. “That’s what I thought.”

Asshole. “I told her enough of the truth that it hurt her.” God, the look in her eyes as she ran from the table. “Anything more is just unnecessary torture.”

“For you or for her?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

He crosses his legs at the ankle. “I like Sara.”

“I love Sara.” So much my chest aches. “And I think I know better than you do what she can and can’t handle.”

“You think so, huh?”

I glare. “I know I can’t be what she needs. I did my best to make that clear to her yesterday without completely destroying her.” Why am I telling this dickhead my business? “If she’s determined to toss out her rules on sex before marriage, I’ll give her a safe space to do that.”

“Safe space, huh?” Jarhead darts a glance at my dick. “That what they call it in the Navy?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs. “You wish.”

God, I want to punch him .

But I owe the motherfucker something, don’t I? “Thanks,” I mutter, shoving a big bite of syrup-soaked pancake in my mouth.

“For breakfast or for keeping my mouth shut?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t what I meant, though. “When I stormed into that room yesterday, you looked ready to protect her. To take care of Sara at all costs.”

His hazel eyes spark with surprise. “You’re right.”

“And it did seem like Sara enjoyed herself.” My cock starts to stir and I shift so it’s masked by my napkin. “Thank you for making it good for her.”

“My pleasure.” He tilts his head, staring at me with bemusement. “You liked what you saw.”

I can’t tell if that was a question. From the look on his face, I get the sense it wasn’t. “Did Sara say something?”

Because yeah, I saw them together on the beach after she ran off. I gave them their space, knowing she needed a shoulder to cry on that didn’t belong to the asshole who’d hurt her. I should’ve felt jealous, I guess.

But it gave me some comfort, knowing Logan could be there for Sara when I couldn’t.

Jarhead, not Logan.

As he stands up, I realize he still hasn’t answered the question. Maybe it’s none of my business. God knows I’m keeping my mouth shut about some of the things that are just between Sara and me. I owe him the same fucking courtesy.

I owe her a helluva lot more.

He’s towering over me, grinning down like a big dopey dog with a secret bone stashed in the yard. Clapping a hand on my shoulder, he lets go and heads for the door. “See you around, Frogman.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” I mutter.

It’s hardly the first lie I’ve told in the last several minutes.

When the door slams shut behind him, I stare at what’s left on the tray. Glancing around, I pick up his bowl of freeze-dried marshmallows. Grabbing a handful, I pop a big bunch my mouth.

They’re fucking delicious.

Thinking of Logan—that arrogant, jarheaded asshole—I eat the whole bowl of those sweet little marshmallows, chewing until my teeth hurt almost as much as my heart does.