“Have at it, Corporal. I’m gonna sit this one out.” Tipping back a swig, he turned his attention to a TV mounted behind the bar. An hour and forty minutes until midnight according to the clock counting down in the corner of the screen. Another year almost gone. Another twelve months of service he’d given a country that apparently had no use for him anymore.
Fuck that noise.
“Hey, darlin’, can you hit me again?” He crooked a finger at the blonde behind the bar, whose too sweet smile was one he knew well. A quick slip of his room key across the glossy wood and she’d be in his bed tonight. Hell, she might not even make him wait that long. This was Vegas.
With a promising glint in her eyes, she topped off the shot glass and watched him drain it. “At this rate, you’re going to need help back to your room.”
Ha. Could he read ‘em or what? “You think so? I don’t know. I’ve got a pretty high tolerance when it comes to whiskey.”
Twirling the bottle of Jameson in her hand all fancy like, she added another swallow to the glass and arched an eyebrow, those baby blues dancing at the challenge. “Let’s test that, shall we?”
He chuckled and chased the aftertaste of the last shot down with a gulp of beer. Truth be told, the comfortable buzz had already begun to morph into blissful numbness. Sure, he liked to drink—almost as much as he liked blondes—but getting shit-faced wasn’t going to make him forget why he’d come to Vegas in the first place. Neither was this chick’s blatantly fake DDs.
“I’ll humor you, sweetheart...” He reached for the glass. “But I’m also gonna do something I never do.” He nodded over his shoulder toward Sam and the patriotic trio and winked. “That Vin Diesel wannabe over there is probably more your speed tonight. Flash him a little cleavage and he’ll forget all about the triplets.”
The blonde stuck out her bottom lip and, if he hadn’t already ruled her out, that move would’ve done him in right there. He hated that pouty shit.
Movement a couple seats down caught his attention and he swiveled his suddenly heavy head to the right as a gorgeous brunette claimed a stool. She waved the blonde over and he watched in curious silence as the bartender poured out not one, but two shots of tequila.
He glanced behind the curvy bombshell, expecting a friend or even a boyfriend to slide into the chair beside her, but there was no one. Just her. And two rounds of Jose.
She flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder, tossing back the shots, one after the other and he zeroed in on the long column of her neck as she swallowed. All that creamy, golden skin. Looked soft and enticing. Would probably taste sweet as sin on the tip of his tongue.
Fucking hell, he was half hard just watching her drink.
But no matter how tempting, she wasn’t gonna make him forget either and, unlike the flirty blonde, this one had fire in her eyes. Like she’d burn him—hell, anyone—if they got too close. She took a full inventory of the crowd, and her grimace and slightly upturned nose when her gaze swept over all the paired off duos didn’t escape his notice. Even Sam and the flag sisters earned a distasteful glare.
He’d bet a hundred bucks she was on the rebound, and probably a guaranteed firecracker in the sack, with all that pent up man-hate brewing inside of her. Maybe he wasn’t so tired after all...
“Can I buy you a drink?” he called down to her and she jerked her attention back around. When her chocolate eyes finally landed on him, they widened just enough for him to know she liked what she saw, even if she didn’t want to. So he smiled. Not only the polite thing to do, but she was also beautiful. That face. So pink and fresh. Subtle and natural unlike so many of the other women he’d come across in Vegas.
He couldn’t look away, nor could he quit grinning.
“You look thirsty. Let me get you something to take care of that.” He gestured for the bartender to stick around and the brunette rolled her eyes. “What’ll it be, sugar?” He leaned a forearm on the bar and turned all of his attention toward the one thing on this entire trip that might be able to distract him from the shitty reality of his life.
Instead of reciprocating, the spunky brunette gave him the palm of her hand. “For one, there’s nothing sweet about me, so cut the sugar shit. Two, do I look like the type of girl who needs a guy to buy me drinks?” She motioned for the bartender to fill one of the empty glasses in front of her and dug some cash from her purse. “No offense, but you’re also way too pretty. Not my type anymore.”
Fuck me and don’t be gentle about it. “Once bitten, twice shy, huh?” Undeterred, he rotated his stool so he faced her head on. He also tugged at the long sleeve of his gray Henley, revealing his inked forearm. His guaranteed ace in the hole, because chicks...chick loved his tats.
But this one? She snorted, downed the third shot, and slid off the seat just as quickly as she’d climbed on. That wouldn’t do.
“Hold up. You just got here. You can’t leave yet.” He got to his feet too and the woman propped a hand on one luscious hip, fully leveling with him for the first time. She was taller than he expected, in fact, he bet his chin would rest on top of her head if they danced. Maybe he should ask her to do that. Thaw her out a bit.
“I’m pretty sure I can do whatever I want.” She lifted her left hand and waved it between them. “There’s no ring on this finger. Definitely not yours.”
“Well, no. Not yet. But—” Not yet? Way too much to drink, man. Way too much.
A small, almost imperceptible smile lifted the corners of her mouth and he chuckled, rubbing a hand around the back of his neck.
“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified. “But you look like you came here for a reason and I don’t want to scare you off.”
“Do I look scared?” One dark eyebrow lifted above one of the prettiest, sultriest eyes he’d seen in a long time. Hell, everything about her had that same pull. The full curve of her breasts and hips, and the long, lean lines of her legs in that snug pair of jeans. Even the way she cocked her foot to the side called to him. Made him wanna pull her in close, just to feel her body pressed against his.
“Nah.” He shook his head, flashing what he hoped was an appeasing smile. “Look, I’ve probably had too much whiskey and I’m sure I’m coming off as a total player right now, but I assure you I’m not.” Shit. “Well, wait...I actually am, but I’m not trying to hit on you. Not because you aren’t totally hot, because you are. Way hot. But...” What in the ever-loving fuck, man!
“But what?” She took a slow step forward, her head tipped to the side, those smoldering eyes dancing beneath the bar lights.
“But you look like maybe you’ve got something on your mind that no amount of alcohol is gonna work out. I know a little something about that.” He gestured to this empty shot glass on the bar next to his beer. “Maybe I could lend an ear. That’s all I’m offering. Really—”
“No thanks.”
Well then. He lifted his hands and retreated back to his stool, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Why the hell had he thought he’d be able to help someone else with their issues when, according to the Corps he couldn’t even deal with his own?
“I appreciate the offer, but coming down here was a mistake. I’d rather wallow in misery by myself in my room.” She hefted her purse a little higher on her shoulder and flashed a genuine, if not sad, smile. “Happy New Year.”
He watched her exit the bar in the mirror behind the display of bottles. She had the right idea. There was nothing down here for him but a bigger headache in the morning. So he tossed some cash on the bar, ignored the bartender’s third disappointed frown, and called an end to his evening well before midnight.
There was nothing happy about this past year and the one coming up didn’t look all that promising either.
Chapter Two