Page 11 of Legacy
The booming voices behind me bring me a sense of comfort. It’s going far better than I thought it would. Marissa offers me her glass and I take a sip and close my eyes. She snatches it back and nods at my beer. “Down it, badass.”
I force another sip and groan. That’s when Luke Hart walks through the open door into the patio area. The wind lifts his hair, and the strings of lights zig zagged over our heads illuminate his face. I wipe my top lip when his eyes catch on me.
“Who is that,” Marissa hisses, lips at my ear.
“No one,” I reply, swallowing another bitter sip. “A SEAL.”A legend.He smirks at me.Dimples.I cough and break my gaze. The guys behind me silenced when he walked in. The man trailing behind him with two beers, not the shit kind, is just as impressive. I think his name is Dagger. He has black hair that looks inhumanly perfect and a smile that peels off skin. Scary.
“Little Dempsey,” Luke says, eyes never turning in my direction. He’s grabbing a beer from his friend behind him. “Congrats, guys,” he says, raising his mug to the group behind me. Dagger doesn’t join, Luke chugs his beer at record speed as I watch, nose wrinkled. “And girl,” he says, quieter to me. “Are you guys eating?”
Sanders answers for our group. “Thanks man. No, we’re just drinking.”
“Should get some food in your stomach before you make bad decisions,” Dagger says, eyes narrowed. His face is so stoic, it feels like an order. Maybe it is.
Luke looks at the beer in my fist, then meets my eyes. “What about you? Down to eat the best cheeseburger in Coronado?”
I’m about to turn him down because he intimidates me and also because I don’t eat garbage, but Marissa answers for me. “Yes. We’re starving. Let’s eat. You can get some form of lettuce or bun-free protein here I bet.”
Protesting is futile when I’m outnumbered. Luke already has his hand in the air signaling for a waitress. He walks to an open table across the patio and looks over his shoulder to make sure we’re following. Dagger comes along as well and I honestly wish one of the guys from my BUD/S class would join. It would be a great opportunity to mix company and gain allies—make friends. I slink into a chair and put the half full mug on the table in front of me. Luke eyes it.
“What do you really want to drink? I know you don’t want that.”
“How do you know what I want?” I ask.
My friend laughs as she seats herself next to Dagger. “She likes dirty martinis. How does he know, Aara, really? Because no one in their right mind likes to drink lukewarm piss water beer. Don’t be obtuse.”
Luke’s brows shoot up. “Aara. Aara. Is that what you go by?” He tastes my name, rolling it around on his tongue. I focus my attention on the dingy laminated menu in front of me instead of Luke’s light blue, laser gaze that pairs so well with his permanent smirk.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m Aara to my friends. Family too,” I say, dragging my finger down the menu options, trying to focus. The waitress arrives and Luke orders drinks for the table. Proving my friend right, I order a burger without a bun. My phone chimes from my purse. It’s my mom asking how tonight is going. She’s always been supportive, albeit scared about me entering this world. I think she’d be afraid no matter what I chose, though. Seems like typical maternal behavior. When I went to the Naval Academy, she called me constantly to check in. It’s quite near impossible to get into trouble unless you’re really trying at Military School. Traveling abroad alone? Falling for a rock star? That nearly gave Natalie Dempsey a heart attack.
This is child’s play in comparison, so I tap back a quick thumbs up, and tell her that Marissa came as moral support, and to tell Dad to stop worrying.
“What’s your mom saying?” Marissa asks, breaking me from the technology.
“How do you know it’s my mom?”
Our drinks arrive in the lull while I stew with my friend’s accuracy. Marissa looks at Luke and then Dagger. “She has been so busy trying to be a SEAL that she forgot to make friends.”
I’m sure my face is beet red. “That’s not entirely true.”
Luke nods, pressing his lips together. “Work ethic. That’s a good thing.” At least someone gets it. “No boyfriend?” he adds, gaze dancing over my face.
I shake my head, relieved. This means he doesn’t keep up with celebrity gossip and the possibility of no one knowing about Henry is a real, actual thing. “No. Not on the docket, really.”
Dagger chugs his beer, uninterested, but Luke is looking at me. Really looking at me. It makes my stomach flip and my skin prickle. “She’s already caught on to Team life. Single and ready to mingle,” Dagger chimes in, licking beer off his lips.
I counter, “That’s not true. Some guys are married.”
Luke nods. “Yeah, they’re on theirfirstmarriage.” He smirks.
Marissa shakes her head, a disgusted look on her face. “That’s not nice.”
Dagger smooths the hair on the sides of his head back behind his ears. “No one said our lives werenice. Speaking of nice, tell me about you.” The way he speaks paired with how he’s looking at my friend makes it seem like he’s asking her something completely different. Naughty.
Marissa ignores his glare and starts talking about her job in intelligence. By the time my food arrives, I’ve drained my martini and it’s standing room only outside on the patio. Some of Luke and Dagger’s teammates are lingering near our table or have pulled up chairs. They look at me curiously, like the newest exhibit at the zoo. Without our uniforms on, I have no idea who these men are, what their ranks are, or how long they’ve been in the Navy. I am out of my comfort zone.
I chug a glass of water to balance out the martini and excuse myself to the restroom that I noticed when we first walked in. It’s down a dark hallway covered in tattered band posters. They have a small stage here at Mayton’s and I try my hardest not to let Henry come to mind, but it’s difficult because this is exactly his scene. Or it was, before he blew up. Yanking the jumpsuit down my shoulders to expose my entire body to pee gives me a chill.
I’m reading a sordid love story about Tawny and how much she loves cock scratched into the stall when I hear the door creak open. Dressing, I exit to wash my hands. A woman is standing there. Waiting for me. She’s wearing all black, with her hair slicked back into a bun. An employee here.
