Page 23 of The Captain's Little Girl

CHAPTER9

Cricket delivered another round of drinks to the familiar group of men deliberately straddling her and River’s areas. She’d relented and swapped the root beer for Mark’s preferred draft tonight. He didn’t drink much. None of the guys did. She suspected they wished to be in control of themselves at all times. Even relaxed, the men kept a watchful eye on the crowd.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Mark said as he took the chilled glass from her hand.

She patted his shoulder before scurrying off to deliver more drinks. Cricket had one unruly table that she was serving carefully from the greatest distance possible. She was also trying to shield her problems from the team to keep them from jumping in to help.

“Hey, cutie! You’re spending a lot of time over there. We’re feeling neglected. Why don’t you sit down and chat with us for a while?” one man suggested, patting his leg to invite her to sit on his lap.

“Sorry, guys. I have a boyfriend. And it’s way too busy for me to sit down. Anything else I can bring you?” she asked.

“A kiss,” another said as he puckered his lips.

“No, thanks. Boyfriend, remember?”

“Any one of us could make you forget about him, honey.”

“I’ll be back to check on you,” she chirped, ignoring that morsel of information.

“We’ll be here,” the first man assured her.

As she turned around, Cricket gasped as a swat on her behind propelled her forward. She stumbled into another table, rattling their drinks but thankfully not spilling the liquid inside.

“Sorry,” she apologized to the table as everyone looked at her in surprise. Whirling, she faced the laughing men. “You just got cut off. No one in the bar will serve you now.” She read the name of the culprit off his fatigues. “Zimmerman. Combined with your physical description, that unusual last name should help me find your commanding officer. Touch me again and I won’t hesitate to report you.”

The man instantly paled before bravado took over. “Good luck with that. Guess we go to the bar for drinks.”

Cricket stalked away. Pasting a pleasant smile on her face, she stopped at the next table to check if they needed something before returning to the bar. When the bartender joined her, Cricket pointed out the table.

“They don’t get any more drinks.”

“Gotcha. Want me to bounce them out now?” the man said, glowering across the crowd at the four men without asking any questions.

“No. Losing drink privileges will teach them something, hopefully,” Cricket suggested.

“You’re okay?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Pete.”

Cricket picked up her next order and carried on with her deliveries. Hopefully, they would leave when they discovered they wouldn’t be served. About thirty minutes later, she heard a shout over the crowd.

“That bitch! Bring her over here and she’ll change her mind,” the ringleader ordered.

Two of Zimmerman’s companions stalked forward toward Cricket. Instantly, a wall of powerful men formed in front of her. The team had sensed the threat and acted as one. The aggressors stopped in their tracks and turned to look at their buddy before choosing a different path and heading for the door. They were out of there.

Mark paced forward. His measured steps brought him within three feet of the ringleader. “You will apologize and then you’ll leave. If you’re lucky, the manager will allow you back in the Harbor Bar in a month. If you’re stupid, you won’t get off base for several.”

“Yes, sir.” Even inebriated, it appeared that the young service man was smart enough to beat a quick exit.

“Did you know him?” Cricket whispered over Mark’s shoulder.

“I don’t. But I will.”

“Just leave it alone, Mark. He didn’t hurt me.”

“He touched you?” Mark asked, zeroing in on her words.

Cricket debated making up a story, but the fire in her daddy’s eyes convinced her she needed to share the truth. “He swatted my butt. Just once. It wasn’t that hard.”

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