Page 5 of Pleasure Island

“Don’t knock boring,” I told him. “Beats getting shot at.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you should aim for something…what’s the word…loftier. Yeah, loftier. Aim for something loftier thannot getting shot atandboring. I mean, hey, me? I got a job where I don’t get shot at, and it’s not boring.” He squinted, pondering what he’d just said. “Okay, it’susuallynot boring.”

“Good for you.”

As the server returned with two more brews, Gavin excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Yeah, Gavin probably couldn’t understand my desire for something low-key. I hadn’t lied when I told him that serving had been intense. But I hadn’t told him about the day I knew I wasn’t cut out to be a lifer in the army.

That was the day my convoy had been ambushed.

Up until then, I hadn’t known what it was like to kill up close and personal. Not that it had been easy the first time I aimed a weapon, but it was different when you’re up close and could see the life fade from a person’s eyes.

No, I wasn’t cut out to be a lifer in the army. There were still nights I woke up feeling the hot wash of blood on my hands, nights when it seemed like the screams of fellow soldiers echoed in my ears so loud I couldn’t sleep for it.

Now I just needed to figure out what in the hell I wanted to do with the rest of my life. And I still had absolutely no clue.

Think about it later,I told myself. I’d just gotten out. I’d only just gotten home. I could take a few days to decompress and figure things out.

I sipped my beer as I leaned back against the wall to take in the low-lit, smoky interior of the bar. It wasn’t that different from any dozen other bars I’d been over the past few years, although the music was a lot louder, a lot shittier, and if the guitarist hit one more note off key, I might suggest he find somebody from the audience to play.

“Hey there.”

The low voice caught my attention, and I looked over to meet the big blue eyes of the woman who’d just appeared at my side. “Hi.” Keeping my voice calm, I took another sip of the beer and turned my attention back to the stage.

“What do you think of the music?”

The voice was a little closer this time, and I once more met the wide blue eyes of the woman standing at my table. I jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve probably heard worse.”

She threw back her head and laughed.

She was pretty, with her big blue eyes and short, flirty haircut. But as her gaze slid my way one more time, I told myself that pretty didn’t much matter.

I avoided women.

For a reason.

Her big blue eyes weren’t going to change that.

She reached out and stroked a fingernail down my arm, smiling at me. “You want to dance?”

“No.” I shook my head, softening the response with a smile. “I’m not much of a dancer. I’m not very good company either. You’d probably do better elsewhere.”

She pursed her lips as she studied me, clearly not certain how to take my response.

“Have a good night,” I said, hoping that would do it. I reached for my beer and subtly turned my body away from hers.

A few seconds later, Gavin returned to the table. “Dude, are you nuts? She’s been eying you half the night.”

I shook my head. “Not nuts. Just not interested.”

He gave me a squinty-eyed look, then just shook his head. “You’re messed up a little, Liam. You know that?”

I didn’t bother responding.

* * *

Later that night,I scooped the boxes off the bed. My bedroom had become a storage of sorts, so I’d be sharing the living space with last year’s tax returns and a bunch of Christmas decorations that didn’t fit in the attic.

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