Anna, ever the outgoing flirt, asked Trevor, “So how does a hot Brit end up running around with a bunch of SEALs?”

He responded, “I came on a training exchange with the Reapers, but I’ve applied to stay permanently with these reprobates. They couldn’t survive without me.”

Which, of course, prompted guffaws from the other men.

Sherri asked no one in particular, “What are your field handles?”

When no one answered right away, she said lightly, “If you won’t tell us yours, we ladies will give you our own handles.”

“Oh yeah?” Griffin challenged. “Like what?”

She considered his back as they ran. “I’d have to go with Sir Grumpy Pants for you.”

He snorted. “I’ll stick with Grif, thanks.”

She tsked. “So unoriginal. I’ll bet that handle doesn’t last too long once we women come on board permanently.” He glanced at her, and she didn’t miss the way his jaw rippled. Clenching his teeth in disgust over that idea, was he?

“How about you, Axel?” Sherri asked. “What’s your field handle?”

“Axe.”

Lily piped up, declaring, “That’s totally lame. We definitely need to replace that.”

“Oh yeah?” the big biker demanded. “What would you call me?”

“Teddy Bear,” Lily shot back without hesitation.

That caused a round of laughter and ribbing, with Axel threatening grievous bodily harm to anyone who called him that to his face.

“Jojo?” Sherri asked. “How about you?”

“Joaquin is my real name, but everyone has always called me Jojo. It became my field handle by default.”

“Ladies?” Sherri asked. “Can we come up with something better?”

“Fabio,” Anna replied immediately.

“No!” Jojo yelped.

Sherri bit back a giggle. Jojo’s mane of hair, currently pulled back in a ponytail, was black, not blond, but he was a very pretty man. And big. Not as beefy as Axel, but he still looked like he could pick up a truck.

Griffin commented, “Jojo—correction, Fabio—is from Hawaii and came to us by way of the National Football League.”

“Griffff,” Jojo growled.

Anna giggled. “Well, that explains a lot. All those hits to the head and all…”

“Hey!” Jojo protested. “I opted out after the draft. I was undersized to play in the NFL, and I wanted to do something meaningful with my life.”

Sherri could actually respect that and relate to it. She nodded and murmured, “I know how you felt.”

Again, Griffin glanced over his shoulder, his gaze far too observant for her taste.

“What about you, Sam?” Sherri asked quickly, hoping to distract Griffin from following up on her too-revealing comment.

“I don’t have a field handle—” he started.

The men shouted him down. Kenny reported gleefully, “His field handle is Babycakes.”

Sherri grinned. “Thank God that’s already taken. I shudder to think of being stuck with that.” She glanced back at the last guy on the team. “And you, Ken? What’s your handle?”

“Alpo.”