“So on to happier things.” She nods and twists her lips for a moment as she studies me unabashedly. “Nix told me you were a badass. Care to elaborate?”

Fucking Nix. I shake my head and emit a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Nothing makes you a badass in combat. Fear. Worry. The unknown. The what-ifs. Horror. That’s what combat is about. I shiver from the memories that still haunt me and my dreams.

“Some days just living to see another day in combat makes you a badass,” I finally say.

“Your humility is becoming.”

“Thank you, but I assure you I’m not all sunshine and roses all the time.”

“No one ever is,” she murmurs.

If she looks at me like that one more time—those big blue eyes a mixture of amusement and desire—I’m going to have trouble standing up.

“You ready to go?” I slide cash under the salt shaker and hold my hand out to her. She takes it and we head out of the outdoor café back to the street that’s still bustling with people.

Music is playing now, a local live band at the end of the long table. Kids have sat down and are building their own creations while their parents are dancing or chatting with friends.

This is Destiny Falls. Take it or leave it. In my early days here as an enlisted soldier, I wasn’t sure which one I wanted of the two. Now as a civilian, I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere else.

“Thank you for this,” Chase says as we skirt around the edge of the dance area. “Like I said, it was unexpected and perfect.”

“Is that so?” I tug on her hand so that she turns and our bodies meet. Desire surges through me in all the most torturously delicious ways as we stare at each other, our lips inches apart, and I finally give in to what I’ve wanted to do all night. Hell, since she first walked into FU-Bar last night.

Her breath hitches. I can feel it against my chest, and I know she feels this too. The sexual tension. The desire. The pure need.

And just as I lean in to kiss her—

“Gunner? Is that you?” comes from behind me in that high-pitch drawl I would recognize anywhere. Fuck.

I debate kissing Chase anyway, but it’d be rushed and interrupted, when I most definitely want it to be neither of those. I want more. Much more.

“I’m sorry in advance.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chase

I STARE AT GUNNER, NOT understanding what he means. When his name is called again, his shoulders sag in defeat and he chuckles sardonically.

He turns, and I’m met with an assault on all senses by a woman old enough to be either of our mothers. The voice owner’s hair is blonde and teased to epic heights. Her clothes are tight, her heels are high, and her makeup dramatic.