Two in the Afternoon (4 page)

Chapter Seven

The last five days had passed in a haze of work, work and more work. Well, there had been a few illicit encounters with Cal in various places throughout the pub and his apartment—even a few while they'd been training. All memorable. All blistering hot.

Damn, memorable was putting it mildly. They'd had quite the unforgettable training session that very morning. The gym had been barren at the ungodly hour of six a.m. and Molly hadn't had a single cup of coffee prior to meeting Cal on the mats.

She'd pulled on her basic workout gear, which consisted of a pair of yoga pants and the world's ugliest sports bra hidden behind a basic tank. Her hair stood on end from a fitful sleep and she just didn't care enough to shower before and after their training. She looked like a hot mess and Cal would just have to deal, since it was entirely his fault for picking the crack of dawn as a start time. The man was a sadist.

When Cal had stripped his shirt off and stood before her in his shorts and bare feet—only for a split second—she'd wished she'd bothered with primping just a tiny bit. Damn him.

Instead of showing her discomfort, she used her embarrassment as a catalyst and attacked. She was always on the defensive during training and her forward motion was awkward and uncontrolled at best. Cal took full advantage and swept her feet out from under her in less than two seconds.

Molly went down hard. Hard enough to knock the air from her lungs and cause a spiral of pain to radiate out from her chest to tingle in her fingers.

“Molly. Shit. Are you okay?”

“As soon as I get up, Callum Eversman, you are a dead man. Dead, I tell you.”

“I'm sorry, babe. I tried to get a grip on you before you went down, but I missed the grab. Can you sit up?”

He helped pull her into a sitting position. Molly took a deep breath and felt the tingling in her limbs recede. Cal was hovering, crouched in front of her looking quite nervous and apologetic.

“Next time I could use some warning before you throw yourself bodily at me.”

She patted his cheek. Maybe a little rougher than necessary. “It's okay, Cal. I won't be throwing myself at you anytime soon.”

He arched a brow and leaned even closer. “You know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

Instead of answering her, he took her mouth in a fierce kiss. She liked him best when he was barely contained and loved to push his buttons to get him there. Cal slipped a rough palm up her cheek and into her hair. He tugged gently, pulling her into position to slide searing kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.

As he tugged her tank off she remembered her hideous sports bra and batted his hand away. “Cal! I am not getting naked in this dirty gym with you. No matter how hot you look without your shirt on.”

“You think I look hot without my shirt?”

“That's not even a legitimate question and you know it.”

“Hmmm… Well, you don't have to get naked. I can still show you a good time.”

He had a wicked gleam in his eye that made Molly reconsider getting naked on a grimy gym mat. “Show me what you got, soldier.”

Cal gently gripped her legs and drew them out from under her until she was leaning back on her elbows, perfectly positioned to watch his every move. He tipped his head down, running his tongue along the edge of her yoga pants, caressing the sliver of bare skin there.

When he lifted one leg over his shoulder her breath hitched before she could stop herself. He was watching her as intensely as she him, and when he placed a kiss to the very core of her she trembled. Her toes curled as he gripped her hips and held her in place.

Cal waited a heartbeat, two even, before he tugged the elastic waist of her pants down an inch, kissed the newly exposed skin there. He repeated this slow torture until he encountered the edge of her panties.

As he ran his tongue along the edge everything in her turned liquid and she rolled her hips in response. He was seconds away from finding the promised land and she was all but panting for him when there was the telltale jingle of the gym door.

Molly collapsed into an inelegant heap as Cal hauled her clothing back into place. “Later, babe. Promise.”

“You are a giant vagina tease, Callum Eversman.”

The stupid man only chuckled at her while helping her gain her feet. In response she gave him a swift kick to the ass before they went about their training schedule.

Later that afternoon Cal had cornered her in the service hall before her shift and brought her to the edge of orgasm with just a few strokes of his steady hands over her body, a quick pat to her ass underneath her skirt and a nip along her jaw line. Then the bastard had walked away, leaving her aching and wanting. Again.

Her
not
dating plan wasn't working out exactly as she'd expected. What was supposed to be a casual fling with some hot sex and an even hotter man, had turned into one long week of foreplay and no relief.

He'd become her constant shadow at work. She might have spent her nights at Chris's apartment, but her remaining hours were spent with Cal. Often, in the slower afternoon hours at the pub, Chief would join them for lunch and they'd discuss everything from books to past relationships to the perfect classic car.

Cal and Chief did their male bonding while arguing the merits of Chevy versus Ford. Sometimes they'd even break out the cards and play some poker while nursing a pot of coffee between them. They brought a sense of normalcy to everyday life at the pub, and she was grateful for it.

Little by little she was learning more and more about Cal, the enigmatic Army Ranger. His grandfather had been Samoan, giving Cal his unique heritage and a tight family unit. The distinctive tattoo that graced his left arm had been designed by his grandfather before his passing. Then inked by Lainey after she started her career as a tattoo artist. A fact that Cal had practically beamed about as he shared the story.

He jogged with Bo daily and every morning she opened the pub, the two of them would be working on complicated training techniques on the pub's deck. Bo was learning how to respond to hand signals and nonverbal cues, and if her guess was right, Cal was training him to be a guard dog.

Aside from his work with Bo, Cal was quiet and only said what was necessary, but if you listened closely you learned that Cal was a boy scout at heart, had a firm belief in right and wrong, and loved his sister and father with enough zeal to make her yearn for something she couldn't have. Falling for Cal was a mistake of a colossal size, but she was already halfway there.

On their second training session in as many days, he'd held back as they sparred, and she'd gotten a solid jab in on his jaw. Not enough to do any damage, but enough that he'd stopped holding back—as much. She couldn't hold her own against such a hulk of a man, but she could do enough damage to escape. And Cal was working his ass off to ensure that she was tough enough to do just that.

Even though he was a massive and formidable opponent, he was taking the brunt of abuse as he taught her to strike weak spots on an attacker. How to use the flat of her hand on a nose, how to use the edge of her palm to strike a windpipe, how to take out a knee with a well-placed kick if she was on the ground. Molly felt more capable and in control, thanks to Cal's tireless coaching.

Danvers and Masterson had disappeared into the wind again. She was sure they were still trailing her, but they were like a pair of ghosts. More accurately, they were like a pair of hunters tracking prey. And Molly was more than happy to count them in her corner.

Cal currently sat in the corner booth, reading a dog-eared paperback with a cup of coffee cooling unnoticed in front of him. The Saturday afternoon crowd was leaving as the evening party crowd settled in for the duration. The music was louder, the crowd rowdier, and Cal seemingly paid little attention to his surroundings. The overly large and attractive man gained plenty of attention of his own, though. Women eyed him with interest, and men just eyed him warily.

Cal had spent the better part of every day and evening cloistered in the same booth, sometimes joined by his equally attractive sister, but usually alone with a book. Much like her brother, Lainey had become a staple at the pub.

After their dinner that first night, the two women had bonded immediately and formed a fast friendship. Lainey was in no rush to return back to Ohio, casually hinting that she was ready to make a change, and seemed to enjoy tweaking her brother endlessly about his non-relationship with Molly.

Even if Molly's heart was already invested, she had to keep it light and casual. Falling for Callum Eversman wasn't the smart thing to do. He was going to ship back overseas within a matter of months. They could pursue a long distance relationship or cut their losses when Cal returned to base next week. Neither option was a good one as far as she was concerned.

Either way, he was always going to be in constant danger, and never around. It was hard enough to come to terms with when it was your brother doing the leaving, but she couldn't even fathom watching the man she loved walk out of her life over and over again. Or possibly never returning. Molly reminded herself, again, that Callum wasn't for her.

For a Saturday night, they were on a skeleton crew, since much of their staff was down with a flu bug. Even Chief had missed his early shift. Tonight there was one cook in the kitchen and two waitresses working the floor, and Molly alone behind the bar. It was going to be a very long night from the looks of it. Chris was on his way in to offer a hand, but even with his capable help they'd be running their asses off most of the night. Hopefully things didn't get out of hand. Sometimes working short meant it was easy to miss the signs of trouble brewing during the summer tourist season.

Molly glanced up from pouring a drink as Lainey entered the pub and lifted her sunglasses away from her face before scanning the room for Cal. Several men eyed her over their beers before she headed in her brother's direction. The woman was stunning and never seemed to be aware of the attention she garnered. Something the twins had in common.

Without looking up from his book, Cal patted the space next to him in the booth as his sister approached. Molly had to smile; it was a dead giveaway that he was more aware of the room around him than he was letting on. He was always on high alert.

As Lainey took her seat next to Cal, one of the waitresses approached to get her order. Molly's attention was focused on the table across the room, and she didn't notice when Chris approached her from behind.

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Who's the hottie with Eversman?”

Scowling over her shoulder at him, she said, “If you'd bothered to stop out at all this week, you'd know it's his sister.”

“Really? Not the flavor of the evening then?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Instantly angry, Molly spun around and pinned him with a glare.

He grinned, that slow seductive curve of his lips that had women dropping their panties for him on a regular basis, and said, “I knew it. I knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you.”

“Chris, you are such an ass.” God, now she was going to blush. “I'll have you know I'm the only flavor he's been sampling.”

“Is that so? Then why are you still staying with me when you could be getting some every night at his place?”

She rolled her eyes at him in response but had to admit, if only to herself, that he had a point. Cal hadn't asked, and she didn't want to pressure him for more than he wanted to give. He'd kept Bo without complaint and seemed to enjoy the dog, but he'd never mentioned her staying over.

Without another word about the sleeping arrangements, they fell into an easy rhythm that kept them busy until late into the evening.

Cal scanned the room and noticed Molly and Chris behind the bar. They had an easy companionship and worked well together. Each anticipated the other's needs as they worked to fill orders and keep the pub running smoothly.

The evening was slowing down, and the last of the stragglers were heading out.

Chris was elbow deep in soapy water, working on the last of the barware, as Molly wiped the mahogany bar down one final time. When she stood and stretched, arms reaching high above her head, Chris took the opportunity to splash a bit of water her way. She gave a quick screech and dropped her hands. In a blink she was on his back, monkey style, making loud whooping noises as she pretended to strangle Chris. Her skirt was pushed to the top of her thighs, and Cal could see her black panties as Chris swung her around, trying to dislodge her from his back.

A group of three men stood at the exit, watching the entertainment. One of them was just brave enough to leave his friends behind and step closer to where Molly and Chris were goofing around. He gave a loud wolf whistle that brought everyone's attention to him.

Molly slid to the floor and tugged her skirt back into place before addressing the straggler. “Sorry, fellas. We're closed, time to go.”

Chris stepped away to flip the full lights on, bringing a harshness to the pub that highlighted Molly's words about closing time.

The man was oblivious to the interest Cal had taken in his advancement. As the fool closed a hand around Molly's wrist and tugged her against his bulk, Cal stood to intercede.

Before he had even cleared the table Molly had jerked away from the drunk, but his grip on her wrist was still in place. She said a few low words and the man laughed before reaching for the hem of her skirt mumbling about wanting to see her panties again. Cal was going to rip that motherfucker's hand off.

Cal was a moment away from snatching the asshole up by the scruff of his neck when Molly leaned in closer to the drunk's form and gripped his junk. When she twisted her wrist the man groaned and crumpled forward. Cal's little spitfire released her grip, stepped away, and let the man fall unaided into a heap at her feet.