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Gemma’s laugh chimed in the same time as Jack’s and I looked over to catch her shaking her head to herself.

“That’s more like it,” Jack replied. “Listen, man, I gotta run, but seriously, congrats. Gemma’s a lucky woman. You make one hell of a best friend, pilot, son, and business man. I see no reason why husband won’t be another great role for you to fill.”

A sudden swoop of emotions swelled in my chest at Boomer’s words and I tried to shrug it off before it got to me too much. I may be getting married and changing my ways, but I wasn’t gonna start crying at the drop of a hat. I had to draw the line somewhere.

“Thanks, Boomer. Tell Holly hello from both of us and we’ll see you this summer.”

“The war of the weddings.”

“Game on!”

~ T H E E N D ~

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Or...How To Make a Player

By

KB Winters

Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

Copyright and Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ©2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Chapter One

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jack McGuire called over to me as I sunk down onto the edge of my rack.

I scowled over at him from across the small quarters we shared with two other sailors. “I’ll get comfortable wherever I damn well please, McGuire. I haven’t broken these new boots in yet and if I don’t get out of them right fuckin’ now, my foot is going to be one giant fuckin’ blister tomorrow.” To prove my point, I leaned over and began tugging at the laces on my Navy-issued steel-toed boots.

Jack shrugged. He was used to my attitude problem and knew my bark was worse than my bite. At least when it came to him. Other people pushed me over the edge sometimes. But Jack and I were cool. We’d only met a few months earlier, at the beginning of Naval flight school training, and had become fast friends. On the surface it might appear we didn’t have much in common since I was more of a loose cannon when compared to Jack’s more straight-laced lifestyle. However, I’d found that underneath his polished exterior—there was an outgoing side to his personality that just needed a little corruption to turn him into the perfect wingman for life.

And corruption was my specialty.

“Suit yourself, but if the captain comes in here and snaps at you, that’s on you. So don’t go bitching about it to me.” Jack crossed the room, opened his footlocker, and began rummaging through what I was sure was a neat and orderly pack of clothing and personal items. “You’ve got an hour before we need to be at the main hall.”

I replied with a grunt and continued unlacing my boots. A new Admiral was coming to take control of our base, and as a sendoff for the current Admiral, a highbrow dinner had been organized. Since we were still in training, attendance was not optional. We were both nearing graduation, but we weren’t quite there yet, and still had a large chunk of our free time dictated by our commanding officers.

If they thought we needed to be at the ceremony and dinner—that’s where we’d be.

“You think it’s all some kind of mind game?” I asked, looking up from my unlaced boots towards Jack as he straightened up. He pulled his dress blues from the footlocker, and I marveled at how crisp and pressed they looked, hanging neatly from a wooden hanger. No idea where he’d gotten that from.

He arched a brow at me in question. “Mind game?”

“This is our first free weekend since training started. We’ve all been under lock and key for months, this is our first chance to get out and let loose a little, but instead, they come up with this mandatory ceremony bullshit. So now, instead of getting good and fucking drunk and then good and fucked—we’re all going to be forced to stand around in our monkey suits, kissing the asses of all the other officers, and giving them each a turn to pat us on the head and wish us well. While those fuckheads are just thinking we’re a bunch of clueless idiots, no better than some newly enlisted.”

Jack sighed and laid his dress blues out on his bunk. “I don’t know what your deal is with this ceremony, Rosen. You’ve been going off about it for the last two weeks, since they told us about it, but I would think that you of all people—”

“Me of all people? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I crossed my arms and glared up at my new friend. I didn’t appreciate being lumped into any one category and even though Jack and I were friends—that wasn’t an excuse for him to generalize me like everyone else had my entire life.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I just meant that you grew up in this lifestyle. Your dad was a highly decorated, highly respected Captain and as you grew up, you must’ve watched him play the same game. You go to these things to show respect, pay your dues, network a little.”