Page 30 of Better Late Than Never

Gah. Duty rotations could be the biggest cockblock on the planet.

No worries. We’ll get together soon. (winking emoji)

Then I put my phone away again, and it was my turn to order. I was tired enough that my Spanish was clumsier than usual, but the lady was patient as I stumbled through ordering a coffee. I pointed out the pastry I wanted, which was a decadent, chocolate-filled monstrosity that meant an extra half hour at the gym tomorrow. I had no idea what they were called, only that they weredivine.

Once I had my food and coffee, I caught Connor’s eye and gestured out into the flow of traffic through the train station so he knew I’d be out there. He nodded, and I stepped out of the café.

Just my luck, a family was getting up from a small table, and I commandeered it. I put my backpack under it and slipped my foot through the strap so no one swiped it. I knew a few too many people who’d learnedthatlesson the hard way.

The coffee was exactly what I needed—dark and rich with just a touch of cream. A couple of sips seemed to make my headache abate slightly; a placebo effect, sure, but I embraced it wholeheartedly. If the hospital’s cafeteria ever started serving good Spanish coffee, I’d be a happy man. As it was, there were a couple of places near my apartment in Chipiona that had the good shit, so I usually stopped at one or the other before I headed for work.

Work, which I’d go back to tomorrow. Where I’d inevitably cross paths with one Lieutenant Commander Marks on a regular goddamned basis.

Sighing, I lowered my coffee and watched him through the café’s front window. He was looking at something on his phone, and I didn’t think it was fair how attractive he was with glasses on.

C’mon, dude. Don’t you know I’m trying tonotdrool over you?

Fortunately, no, he didn’t. By some miracle, I’d managed to keep that under the surface and carry myself like a normal person around him. Or at least give the impression that was what I was doing.

I pulled my gaze away and took a bite of the pastry, concentrating on that instead of him. I’d always heard people rave about French pastries, but Spain made some damn good ones, too. They were never dry, never too sweet, and they only set me back a euro or two. It was probably a good thing that my favorite bakery in Chipiona wasn’t the one across the street from my apartment and there was almost no parking nearby. I basically had to walk to it, which was just as well, considering how much I’d stuff my face if they were more convenient. If that one place in Cádiz ever opened a location near me, I’d never fit into my uniforms again.

A set of footsteps broke away from the hurried foot traffic in the train station, and I looked up to see Connor striding toward me, a small paper bag in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. And the glasses. Still had on the glasses.

Fuck. You are so hot…

Unaware of my stupid mind, Connor took the chair opposite me. He also put his foot through the strap on his backpack—smart man—and then opened the small paper bag from the café. “Popular place,” he mused.

I pointed at the fruit tart he was pulling out; that was what I would’ve ordered had they run out of the chocolate ones I liked. “Take a bite of that, and you’ll understand why.”

An eyebrow quirked up. Then he shrugged, picked up the tart, and took a bite.

God. Was thereanythingthis man did that wasn’t attractive as all hell? That look on his face…

Can’t I make you make that face? Just one time?

No, I couldn’t, and I needed to get off that train of thought immediately.

I sipped my own coffee. “So, what did you think of Castillo de Danza?”

Good one, Alex. Bring up last night. That’ll keep you focused on not wanting to lick him.

Unaware of me being a complete dumbass, Connor said, “It was… I mean, it was fun, I guess?”

I studied him. “You guess?”

“It’s… I don’t know.” He sat back. “I think I shorted out a little because I was already nervous about venturing out into that scene, and then I realized half the guys there are the same age as my kids.”

Right. Right, he had kids. I kept forgetting that. I fidgeted in my chair, tapping my fingers on my coffee cup. “How many kids you have, anyway?”

“Two boys.” A fond smile formed on his lips. “They’re both adults—twenty and twenty-two. But like, that’s the demographic in clubs, so…” He wrinkled his nose.

I laughed. “I never thought of that. Some of them are half my age, but if I had kids and they were that age… Yeah, that might fuck with my head.”

Connor chuckled almost soundlessly. “Just a bit. Otherwise, it was fun. I don’t know if it’s my scene, though.”

“Because of the ages?”

“No. I’m a little uncomfortable with the language barrier. It’s fun to dance with people, but going any further than that?” He grimaced.

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