Page 26 of Strangers in Love

I was smart. I was capable.

I would survive this.

Nineteen

Eoin

I’d flownup with my parents and some of my siblings yesterday, but I didn’t plan on flying home with them tomorrow. That was why I’d gotten a hotel room instead of taking Alec up on his offer of staying at his house. I planned on spending a couple extra days up here, some because I planned on joining Alec in chaperoning a class trip Evanne’s class was taking next week, but more because I wanted some distance to make a plan.

I’d meant what I’d said to Alec about doing some sort of security or investigative work, but I hadn’t come up with anything more than that. I didn’t know if I wanted to try doing it on my own or if I wanted to look for an entry-level job somewhere. I didn’t know where I wanted to live.

But those were things I planned to think about tomorrow. Tonight, I had something else in mind, and it was the other reason why I’d decided to stay in a hotel instead of at Alec’s.

When I’d asked the desk clerk at the hotel where an army vet could go to get a drink, he’d recommended a place one block over. The last time I’d gone out to a bar had been the night before the ambush when Leo and I had hooked up with a pair of women whose names I couldn’t remember. After I’d gotten out of the hospital, I’d done all my drinking alone. And I definitely hadn’t gone looking for a woman.

Hell, I hadn’t even been interested in getting off for months. The first time I’d even tried jacking off, I’d gone soft halfway through. That’d never happened to me before, and it’d definitely fucked with my head. This had been my longest dry spell since I’d lost my virginity at a party when I was fourteen. I didn’t remember much about it, honestly, but I didn’t remember a lot of my high school hook-ups. Including the name of the first girl I’d had sex with. As Leo had always pointed out, I was the luckiest asshole in the world getting through those years without a pregnancy scare or an STI.

As soon as I’d enlisted, though, I’d made a point to never get so drunk that I’d forget protection again. That included tonight. I wasn’t here to get drunk. I was here to find someone to have sex with because I didn’t want to go somewhere closer to home and run the risk of ever running into that person again. Not because I had a problem seeing hook-ups again, but because if I couldn’t…you know, I didn’t want to have to deal with any awkwardness.

Plus, in San Ramon, a lot of people knew who I was. I didn’t want that either. Someone who liked military guys was fine, but someone who knew about what’d happened to me was the last person I wanted to fuck.

The bar’s lighting wasn’t great, but that worked to my advantage. I was able to walk in and go straight to the bar without silencing the entire room once they saw my face. I ordered a beer since I wanted to relax but not get too drunk, and then I took a look around the room.

A few women checked me out, but it was a curvy blonde with dark roots who approached me first. When she got close enough to see my scar, her eyebrows went up, but she kept coming.

“I’m Yvonne.”

“Eoin.”

She smiled at that but didn’t laugh. Things were looking good.

“Are you waiting for someone?” she asked. “Just want to make sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes.”

I shook my head. “Not at all. I’m not even from Seattle.”

“What brings you here then?” She drained whatever she’d been drinking and put the glass next to my beer.

“Honestly, it’s not small talk.” I looked her up and down, not bothering to hide what I was thinking.

“I really hope you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” Her eyes did a slow slide down, stopping with that heated gaze below my belt buckle.

“I have a room at the Carson Hotel,” I said. “I walked, but we can get a cab. I just need to know who to call since I don’t know the local places.”

“No need,” she said. “I drove.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking into my room. Yvonne had kept up a steady stream of conversation the whole time, but she’d kept it easy, as if she knew I was on edge. Feeling that way was new to me, and I didn’t like it, but she made it…easier. The fact that she hadn’t asked about my scar made it easier too. I’d been more worried about that than I’d let myself admit.

As soon as the door closed, she reached for me, running her hands up my arms and across my shoulders. Down my chest.

“Damn. Let’s get that shirt off so I can see if you look as good as you feel.”

She started tugging up my shirt, and for a moment, I froze. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because as soon as she saw skin, her hands were on me, nails scratching over scars, tracing them. She didn’t flinch though, and that helped me pull off my shirt.

“Nice tat,” she said, smiling up at me. “What branch?”

“Army.”

Her grin got wider. “I love army boys.”

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