Page 81 of Better Late Than Never

These days, I was completely fine with Americans sticking close to Rota. The fewer people ventured away from the base, the fewer chances there were for someone who recognized us to see us outfraternizingtogether.

As we walked from our hotel toward the city center where the restaurants were just beginning to open for dinner, I had to fight hard not to put a hand on Connor’s back or even slip my hand into his. That wasn’t who we were, though, and not just because we had to be discreet. This was friends with benefits—traveling fuck buddies, honestly—not boyfriends.

Are you sure about that, Alex?

I glanced at him in the warm light of the late evening sun, and my insides tumbled in a way they shouldn’t have with a man I was just supposed to be screwing on the downlow.

The sex was fun, and there was a certain amount of excitement that came with the clandestine nature of what we were doing. That wasn’t what I was feeling right now, though. This wasn’t rebelliousness or lust.

I missed you.

The thought almost had me tripping over my own feet. That was it, wasn’t it? We lived close together. We worked in the same facility. But the only time we could be Alex and Connor instead of HM1 Barlow and Lieutenant Commander Marks was when we were safely behind his villa’s walls or miles away from home.

When we were like this.

No matter how much I liked these moments, they were all we could have as long as we were both on active duty. And no matter how much I liked this man, I was fooling myself if I thought he liked me enough to date me on the downlow for over a year. He may have been enjoying the hell out of the sex, but the novelty of that would wear off long before I’d safely retired from the Navy.

This was all we were, and it was all we ever would be, and I couldn’t afford to lose sight of that.

You’ve known that from the beginning. Why are you suddenly getting all fucked up over it?

Maybe because at the beginning, I didn’t know I’d feel like?—

“Is that the place?” Connor’s question pulled me out of my thoughts.

I shook myself and looked in the direction he was indicating. Sure enough, on the corner across the street, was the restaurant we’d been looking for. I’d been so far up in my own head, I hadn’t even noticed their distinctive sign above the familiar patio seating.

“Yeah.” I smiled. “That’s it.”

He eyed me as if he’d caught on that I’d been someplace else, but he didn’t question me. He followed me across the street and into the restaurant, and we were seated at the edge of the patio. From here, we had a nice view of a small plaza ringed with orange trees and with a statue at the center. I’d been here for lunch before, and an awning had shielded diners from the brutal sun, but it was nearly 2100 now—still daylight, still hot, but not as blinding or scorching. Like this, it was quite pleasant.

Connor swept his gaze around the plaza. “It’s going to be hard to go back to regular American restaurants after this.”

“I know, right?” I chuckled. “Especially now that I’m adjusted to Spanish meal times. You can’t just walk into a family restaurant at 2200 in the States and expect a long, sit-down dinner, you know?”

“Ugh, I wish we could do that. When I was stationed in Portsmouth, my shifts would always end late enough that there was no chance in hell of going out.” He sipped his drink. “My boys are going to want to move over here the minute they realize their night owl asses can have dinner that late.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. I’m a bit of night owl myself, but my kids took after their mom—almost completely nocturnal. I don’t know how Quinn’s girlfriend deals with it.” He wrinkled his nose. “She’s one of those…morningpeople.”

I made a face. “That’s just wrong.”

“No kidding.” He sighed melodramatically and shook his head. “The things we tolerate in the name of love.”

My stomach did a somersault that I didn’t want to think too hard about. Yeah, I’d heard of people doing and putting up with all kinds of things in the name of love. Some rogue synapse in my stupid brain even thought there was a chance someone out there might do that for me.

A hypothetical morning person putting up with my night owl tendencies? Maybe.

An actual physician whose entire career would be upended if someone even caught a whiff of us together? Not gonna happen.

But I wasn’t going to think about that tonight. We were together for the weekend, and I would enjoy this while I had it.

“So.” Connor picked up one of the menus we’d been ignoring. “What do you recommend here?”

“Um.” I peered at my own menu, and for a moment, I struggled to even understand the words. Not because they were Spanish, either.

Fuck. What iswrongwith me?

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