Stitched Up Heart (Combat Hearts Book 1) (3 page)

“You driving?” Nick asked.

Jase shook his head. “I’ll take a cab to Chris’s. He’s still out of town.”

“I texted him, told him we’d be here. Didn’t hear back,” Brandon said.

“He’s not due back for another couple of weeks.”

“Bummer. I was looking forward to seeing him again.” Gary nudged Carlos. “Dude, what are you lookin’ at?”

The sultry summer air wrapped around them when they got out of the car in front of the bar. Bree stepped up onto the large, covered wood deck the bar took its name from. Small groups and couples lounged against the wood railing. Denise pulled open one of the double doors, sidestepped to allow a couple to exit, and led the way over the threshold. They stopped just inside the front door and showed their IDs to the bouncer. He gave them a once over, dragging his gaze down their bodies and back up, his expression inscrutable.

Bree looked down at her feet, then back at the bouncer. “What?” Bree asked.

He smirked and handed their IDs back. “Have a good night.”

Denise tucked her ID in her back pocket. “What was that about?”

“I have no idea.”

The Deck had an old barn feel to it — wide open with lots of wood and sawdust on the floor. To the right of where they stood, a small U-shaped bar was set up for patrons to watch the TVs hanging over the bar. To the left, an area with tables and chairs for the restaurant, which was closed. The back half of the building was mostly open with round, high-top tables and stools positioned along one side of the room, with another bar running along the opposite side. Large garage doors opened onto the deck at the back of the building, and a large fenced-in courtyard made the building appear even larger.

“Front bar or back bar?” Denise asked.

Bree glanced to her right. Almost every stool was occupied. “Let’s go to the back bar.”

Bree threaded her way through the throng of denim- and leather-clad bodies. Every few steps, she shook a foot to dislodge the sawdust that had worked its way between the soles of her feet and thin flip-flops.

Denise leaned close to her ear to be heard over the loud rock music. “We seem to have missed the memo on the dress code.”

“You mean you don’t subscribe to the Ladies of Leather newsletter?” Bree asked over her shoulder.

“Just imagine how many cows had to die to make all the leather these people are wearing. We are way underdressed.”

“Better than being overdressed, I think.”

“Probably.”

Bree stopped short, causing Denise to run into her.

Holy hotness, Batman.
“Oh my god. I just creamed my panties.” Bree nudged Denise and tilted her head in the direction she was looking.

“Sweet, merciful Jesus, that man is a walking orgasm. How tall do you think he is?”

Bree’s eyes traveled down the well-muscled expanse of chest to lean hips, slouchy jeans, and scuffed boots. “I don’t know…six-three? Six-four, maybe?”

“You could wear heels and not have to worry about bending over to kiss him.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons I was going to break up with Chad. All my heels are four inches.”

“Just like Chad,” Denise said.

“Erect Chad.” Bree tore her gaze away from the walking orgasm. They stared at each other a moment and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, we crack me up.” Denise wiped at the tears in her eyes.

Bree grabbed Denise’s hand. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

“You’re buying, just so you know.”

“How am I buying? I’m the one who has to buy a new mattress,” Bree asked.

“One, you’re loaded. Two, because you dragged us out looking like shite, but I will concede your point. First round is on me.”

“How very gracious of you,” Bree replied.

Carlos nodded toward the door. “Check it.”

Two women stood toward the front of the bar, heads thrown back, laughing and holding onto each other. They stood out in their causal clothes as if they’d given little thought to their appearance. The redhead caught his attention. Her smile sparkled, full of joy. Full of life. They wove through the crowd close to the bar. When they reached it, she hiked up a leg and rested her foot on the bar close to the floor. He caught a glimpse of long legs and nicely rounded ass before someone stepped in the way.

The desire that’d been lacking earlier made itself known. Nope. Nothing wrong with him at all.

Evan let out a low wolf-whistle. “Damn. Don’t see chicks like that in here. I call dibs.”

“The fuck you do.” Jase put his glass down hard, setting off for the bar.

They bellied up to the bar and Denise raised her hand, credit card held between her fingers.

The bartender leaned over the bar, closing the distance. “Ladies. What can I do you for tonight?”

“Two vodka cranberries with a lime, please,” Denise said.

“Sure thing.” He winked and pushed away from the edge.

“He’s cute,” Bree said.

“And flirty.”

“I’m sure it helps with the tips.”

“I’ve got a tip for him.” Denise wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m sure he’s got a tip for you too. Just the tip, if you know what I mean.”

“Nice.” Denise held up her hand and Bree high-fived her. “Thank god your mind is as dirty as mine.”

The cute bartender returned with their drinks.

“Put it on my tab, Brian,” a deep voice said.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and shivers raced down her spine.
Please be the walking orgasm.
She couldn’t get that lucky.

The bartender nodded. “Sure thing, Jase.”

Bree and Denise made wide eyes at each other as they grabbed their glasses and turned to — she could get that lucky. A well-defined chest and biceps straining the fabric of a faded blue t-shirt greeted them. Her gaze drifted up, and up, over a short, trim beard surrounding full lips, past a slightly crooked nose, straight into the hazel eyes of the walking orgasm.

Wow. He’s even better looking up close.

Bree took a sip of her drink and imagined running her hands through his dark, curly hair.

“Ladies. Haven’t seen you here before.”

Bree choked on her drink.
Wrong pipe
. “Really,” she strained through the burn. “You’re going with ‘come here often?’”

The sex god smiled. “Well, that wasn’t my intention, but if it works…”

Holy hell, that smile. She shifted her weight in an effort to ease the sudden throb between her legs.

“I’m Jase,” he said. “Are you meeting someone here or is it just the two of you?” He looked directly at Bree, a flirtatious smile teasing at his mouth.

What was the question?
She’d been staring at his mouth. Saw it move. Imagined sucking on that full bottom lip.

“Just us,” Denise said. “Spur of the moment decision. As you can see, we weren’t aware of the dress code.”

“Dress code?” Jase turned his attention to Denise.

Bree rolled a shoulder, pulling out of the lust fog clouding her mind. “I think she’s talking about the fact that we aren’t wearing any leather.” She waved a hand. “Inside joke.”

“Oh yeah. Bikers like their leather. Since you’re not meeting anyone tonight, would you like to join my friends and me?”

Bree glanced at Denise, who gave a little shrug. “Sure, why not?”

“I’m Bree, by the way. This is Denise.” Bree indicated to Denise with her drink.

“Nice to meet you. Follow me.” He took Bree’s free hand and led them toward the group of guys he had been standing with when they first noticed him. Bree turned to Denise and mouthed
oh my god
as he led them to a couple of tables set against the far wall. All the guys were good-looking, well-built, and hovering around the six-foot-tall range. It was like a real-life hot-guy calendar shoot — just with more clothes. Jase introduced Bree and Denise to the guys standing around the two tables.

“This a normal Friday night for you guys?” Denise asked.

Nate leaned a tattooed arm against the table, turning full to Denise. “Brandon’s celebrating separating from the Army.”

Gary leaned around him. “We’re here most Fridays.”

Bree bit her lip, watching the subtle posturing as the two guys fought for Denise’s attention. This should be interesting. A hand slid across the small of her back and a hot body stepped close to her side. The top of her head barely reached his chin. Used to being the same height as, if not taller than, most men, standing next to Jase she felt…dainty.

“Do you want another drink?” he asked.

She looked at her almost empty glass. “Think I’ll switch to beer. We’ve already had a few.” She peeked up at him through her lashes. Nervousness fluttered in her belly.

Jeez, he’s hot.

When was the last time a guy had flirted with her? Really flirted with her, not just came on to her?

The waitress came by and Jase added a beer to the order.

“You seriously never heard of Papa’s Pizza?” Denise’s question caught her attention.

“What about Papa’s Pizza?” she asked.

Denise pointed a finger between two of the guys. “They were at Victory around the same time we were.”

“Really?”

“The only pizza place was the crappy one at the exchange. You sure it was on Camp Victory?” Gary asked.

“Swear.” Denise raised her hand, palm out. “We went every Sunday for lunch. Hand-tossed, deep dish.”

“Where on Victory?” Brandon challenged her.

Jase’s hand brushed against the side of her neck, pushing a strand of hair off her shoulder, and she lost interest in conversation again. Tingles raced along her skin, chasing after his fingers. It was becoming a familiar sensation. He’d found little ways to touch her since he took her hand at the bar. A hand smoothing along the curve of her hip. Leaning down to speak softly in her ear. Every simple touch felt like a brand on her skin. It left her hot. Needy.

“You’re kidding,” Evan said.

Bree pulled her attention back to the group. “What’s up?”

“The brawl between the third country nationals behind the chow hall,” Denise explained.

“Oh yeah,” Bree said. “It was like something out of a movie. Pans, knives, chains, metal pipes. All that was missing was Michael Jackson’s Beat It playing in the background.”

“Seriously?” Jase said.

“Yup. Took security forces close to an hour to break it up,” Denise said. “Two guys ended up dying.”

Bree set her glass on the table. “Excuse me. Need to use the facilities. You need to go?” she asked Denise.

“I’m good. Unless you need me to guide the way.”

“Big neon sign. Think I can find it.”

A blonde in a cleavage-baring halter top left the bathroom as she pushed open the door. She gave Bree a once over and sneered.

Bitch, please
.

She washed her hands and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. It could’ve been the alcohol, but more likely it was the sensual foreplay that had been going on since Jase had pulled her away from the bar. She tended to shy away from being touched by strangers. Hugging and touching was reserved for friends and family, but something about Jase’s touch had every nerve in her body singing. Every brush of his fingers had sent shivers down her spine and raised goosebumps on her skin. She’d soaked it up. When was the last time a simple touch had caused desire to coil low in her belly?
Not since before Afghanistan.