Page 82 of Hot Shot

I laugh harder, and Marco’s beautiful smile steals what’s left of my breath.

“Apparently there are lots of benefits to masturbation,” he continues, his eyes gleaming with humor. “Stress relief. It keeps you primed. Keeps you in touch with what you really like.”

Beck’s gaze is fastened on Hayden’s face, and the sexual heat between them makes me shift in my chair.

I’m not jealous. But wow . . . the feelings these two have for each other are enviable. I sigh and toss back the last of my tequila.

“Hey now,” Marco says. “You’re supposed to sip and savor that, remember?”

“I need another one.”

When I meet his eyes, I go immobile. Because he’s still smiling, and it’s a heated, hungry smile, his gaze focused intently on me . . . almost the way Beck is regarding Hayden.

My heart misses a beat, then lurches in my chest. I can’t look away from Marco.

Our food arrives, breaking the magnetic spell.

I look down at my plate and press my hand to my chest where my heart still races. Was I starving a few minutes ago? Now I have no interest in food.

“Eat,” Marco murmurs, leaning in close.

I swallow and nod, forcing a smile while picking up a chicken finger. I dunk it in the barbecue sauce, then take a bite.

“Okay?” Marco asks.

I nod and take another bite. “Okay.”

“See, I want people to eat our food and not just say ‘okay.’”

I dare to glance at him again, almost afraid of what I’ll see and how my body will react. Like I’ll get sucked into a paralyzing force field or something. I don’t even know what a force field is. Hayden probably does. It’s probably not something that paralyzes youorsucks you in. Whatever.

“I know,” I say. “You want to be the best.”

“We’re doing fine,” Beck says. “Don’t worry so much about it.”

I watch Marco’s face. He nods and lets out a breath. “Yeah, yeah, I worry too much about it. I know.”

I don’t like to think of him worrying. He does take a lot of weight on his shoulders. He was all up in arms about the graffiti, and he worried about the food menu, and I’ve seen how he deals with vendors, picks up supplies at the wholesale liquor store and the restaurant supply store, fills in as bartender, server, and even dishwasher. The three of them are partners, and it’s not that Beck and Cade don’t do their share of the work—I know they all contribute—but Marco seems to feel like he's responsible for everyone.

Is that what he was like as a SEAL? I give him sideways glances as we all eat and talk. Yes, I’m sure he was exactly like that . . . looking out for everyone, loyal to his teammates, fighting the good fight not just for his team but for his entire country.

Wow. Once again, I look down at my food, forgetting to eat. My impression of Marco has gradually changed from the night we first met, but at this moment it strikes me like a blinding camera flash that Marco has done amazing, selfless things. My insides tighten up thinking about the dangers he put himself in, the strength he had to overcome huge challenges to become the man that he is—protective, committed, loyal, driven—even when it comes to something like running a bar.

I blink as the noise in the restaurant swirls around me, meaningless chatter and laughter and clinking glasses.

And once more, I feel that lacking . . . that feeling that I’m not enough, that no matter what I do, I can’t live up to other people’s accomplishments—the kids at school, my driven family, and now this amazing man.

I need to be careful here. This whole “romp” is based on the fact that it’s going to end. I can’t start having those kinds of feelings for Marco, especially when he’s so remarkable.

“What’s going on, belleza?” he asks in a low voice, bending closer to me. “You’re not eating. Are the chicken fingers that bad?”

I smile and shake my head. “No, they’re not that bad. I’m just . . . distracted.”

He nudges his shoulder against mine. “Me too. That talk about working in the garden got us all hot.”

“Us?”

“Me and my dick.”

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