Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) (77 page)

New York City. Women. Two nights of freedom. It sounded like a hell of a good time to him.

Glancing at the time again, he realized he’d daydreamed away the end of his day. Good thing he’d gotten all his work done early so it didn’t matter that he was goofing off now. Frontloading, getting the needed work done as fast as possible, was something he’d been taught during his first days in a squadron. It was the best way to enjoy more FOT—fuck off time.

He stood and ran his hand over his closely cropped hair before planting his cover on his head. He’d have to get a haircut before they left for this det so he didn’t start to look shaggy by the end of the trip. Weekly haircuts, no matter what. So it had been since he’d joined. So it would be until he retired.

Maybe he’d grow his hair out after that. Probably wouldn’t go with the mullet that had been so popular when he’d joined, but he’d keep it longer than it was now. It never got long enough nowadays to tell for sure, but he feared he had a whole lot less hair than he used to. Sad but true, but that’s what the years will do to a man. He had nothing close to the amount he had when he’d first sat in that chair at Paris Island and the barber buzzed off what had been a nice thick head of dark blonde waves.

The ladies who used to be jealous of Crash’s hair in high school would no doubt hardly recognize him now. The hair may be questionable, but at least he still had the blue eyes the girls used to swoon over back in the day. Though there weren’t a whole lot of swooning women lately, time couldn’t take those from him.

It was a short drive from his office at the squadron to the O Club, which was walking, and sometimes stumbling distance from his barracks. He could have walked if he’d wanted to, but it was hot as hell today. Why walk when he could drive in the air conditioning? Not too long from now he’d be sweltering in Afghanistan so he might as well take advantage of whatever moderate luxuries he had here on base, driving privileges included.

Crash parked his car in the nearly empty lot of the Officer’s Club. The place was never crowded unless there was a party being held there. It could be because only officers and senior staff NCOs were allowed to go there. It could be because it was only open Wednesday through Friday and closed at nineteen-hundred, which was pretty damn ridiculous. More likely it was because the places off-base, just outside the gate, were a lot more fun. Particularly the ones that featured poles…and dancers wrapped around those poles.

Nope. No strippers here at the O Club, but at least there was a pool table and sometimes strategically placed vats of hot chicken wings and fresh popcorn.

Lack of scantily clad females aside, the Officers Club at New River was pretty nice. The coolest part was the bar area. Squadrons from on base donated different pieces of memorabilia to dress up the place. Tail rotor blades, murals, mugs and the like lined the walls and the shelves behind the bar.

Crash didn’t care what it was that kept other Marines away. All that mattered to him was that it was close by, the beer was cold and fairly cheap, and he could walk home if he needed to. It was a winning combination for him.

For his buddy too, apparently. Zippy had arrived enough ahead of Crash that he’d had time to get himself a beer already.

Crash walked up behind him and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. "You know, if you didn’t insist on playing that stupid ass word game on your cell while taking a crap, you might not have to go get yourself another phone."

Zippy twisted on the bar stool to glare at Crash. "Just because you can’t spell for shit doesn’t mean
Words with Friends
is stupid, and that’s not how it happened anyway."

"Oh? This was a new and different phone toilet mishap? Do tell." Crash dragged a stool from beneath the bar and propped his ass on it.

"No. It doesn’t matter. Forget about it. Just order yourself something." He frowned and became overly interested in the label on his beer bottle.

Zippy avoiding the question so vehemently had Crash intrigued. "Well, damn. Now I have to know."

"No. Drop it." Scowling, Zippy raised the bottle and chugged.

"Come on. What? Tell me. Were you looking at porn while snapping your bean over the bowl and dropped—" He’d meant it as a joke, but Zippy sputtering on his mouthful of beer had Crash halting mid-sentence. "Oh my God. That’s it? Is that what happened?"

"Shh." Still coughing into his fist, Zippy glanced behind him, no doubt to see where the bartender was. Probably concerned because for this particular shift the bar was manned, as it were, by a female.

Crash was close to busting a gut laughing, but he managed to contain himself. Mostly. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation at the O Club, but it was just too good to let go. "Oh, man. That is too funny."

Zippy turned back, frowning. "As if you’ve never done it."

"Held my phone in one hand to look at dirty pictures and jerked off into the toilet with the other? No. I haven’t."

"Shh!" Zippy shushed Crash again. "Jesus, Crash. Not so loud."

To keep the man from blowing an artery, Crash leaned forward and kept his voice low as he said, "How about using your imagination, Zip? Or, I don’t know, look at it once then put the damn phone down somewhere safe."

"Can we let this drop now, please?"

Crash ignored that request as a horrifying realization hit him. He’d borrowed Zip’s phone. Not too long ago, actually. He’d had that damn thing pressed right up against his face.

"Shit." Crash shook his head. This situation was definitely less funny after that memory. "I’m gonna remember to never ever touch your phone ever again. Jesus, God only knows what’s on—"

"I’ll have another one and he’ll have the same. Thanks." Zippy talked right over Crash as the bartender neared their end of the bar.

 
She turned to get their beers from the cooler and Zippy spun on Crash. "Can we please talk about our plans for New York instead of this?"

"Sure, let’s talk about New York. So while we’re on the boat, are you planning to watch some porn and snap in the dark in your rack with all the rest of the squadron right there, or you gonna hog the head so you can do it in private?"

Zippy narrowed his eyes and shot Crash a less than friendly look. "Just for that, I’m not gonna tell you my news."

"Aw, I’m heartbroken." Luckily for Crash and his broken heart, his beer arrived. He grabbed the bottle, dripping with icy condensation, and took a sip, letting the cold foam wash down his throat.

Definitely worth stopping in for the ice cold beer alone. The fun of torturing his friend was just a bonus.

"Fine. I won’t tell you that my sister Trish and her hot friend Dawn are meeting us in New York while we’re there."

Now it was Crash’s turn to narrow his eyes at Zippy. "Hot friend? Zip, this better not be a fix-up."

"No, of course not. You want to be alone. Be alone. I don’t give a shit. Don’t mean I can’t have a nice visit with my sister before we deploy."

"Your sister
and
her friend. Why is she bringing a friend if she’s there to visit you?"

"Because I don’t want her wandering around that friggin’ city alone, that’s why."

"Okay." Crash had a sister of his own so he couldn’t argue the point. Zippy was a New Jersey native, not a born and bred Southerner like Crash, but a man’s instinct to protect his sister was universal. Still didn’t mean he trusted Zippy in this situation. The man had been trying to play matchmaker for him for a month now. "But I swear, Zip, if I think you’re trying to hook me up—"

"I know. I know. You’ll find your own damn woman when you’re ready." Zippy lifted his beer and mumbled behind the bottle, "
if
you’re ever ready."

Why couldn’t his friends understand his situation? Finding out the girl you’d been dating had been running around on you was enough to turn a man off relationships for a good long while.

"Give me a damn break, Zip. It’s only been a few months." Crash didn’t think that was an excessive amount of time to take to recover. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone out and had a few flings to soothe his male ego after that particularly devastating blow.

"Whatever. I didn’t say you had to date Dawn. Just be nice to the girl so my sister doesn’t feel bad for bringing her—" Zippy stopped. "Aw, crap."

"What?" Crash hated to ask, because it probably wouldn’t be good.

"I was supposed to call Trish today to firm up plans." Zippy blew out a breath. "I’ll have to stop by the office on the way home and use my desk phone. I called to get a new cell overnighted to me so I’d have it for the det, but it won’t be here until tomorrow."

And so they’d gone full circle, back to the sunken phone. Happy Zippy’s attention had moved away from Crash’s sorely lacking personal life and on to something else, he slid his cell across the bar. "You can use my phone. Just don’t take it into the bathroom."

Zippy reached out and grabbed it. "Ha, ha. Funny man."

"I think so." Crash grinned. "You remember her number, butter fingers?"

"Yes, of course I remember her number." Zippy screwed up his mouth and shot Crash a look. "She’s my sister, you dork."

Crash shrugged. "Just asking. A man who hasn’t learned after drowning not one but two phones in the shitter over the past six months might be a little challenged in the uh, area of mental capacity."

"Whatever." Zippy pressed the phone to his ear. "Be quiet. It’s ringing."

While Zippy waited for his sister to answer, Crash took another sip of beer. He was starting to get excited about the det again.

It would still be a hell of a fun time up north. Zip and his sister might very well be up to no good and playing matchmaker, but not even that could ruin this trip.
 

He just had to get through his workday tomorrow and then he’d be on his way. New York City had better watch out.

Chapter 3

New York City

"Trish, I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t come with you today. Are you sure you’re okay there in the city all alone?"

"I’m fine, Dawn. Really. I’ve been to Manhattan by myself before. And my brother should be here any minute." Trish glanced at the clock in the dashboard of her car.

"I still feel bad."

"Well, don’t. I’ll just have to have fun with all the hot Marines on my own." Trish smiled as she heard Dawn’s groan through the cell phone.

"Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I’m missing Fleet Week for jury duty."

"You’re doing your civic duty." While Trish would be doing hers here in New York by supporting the troops—or at least ogling them. Her gaze tracked two sailors as they crossed the street. Well worth the hour and a half drive from home. Seeing her brother would be nice too.

Dawn sighed. "That won’t be much comfort while I’m sitting there bored to death in some courtroom and you’re surrounded by hundreds of men in uniform."

"I think it’s more like thousands of men in uniform, actually."

"Great. Rub it in some more, thanks. Crap. They’re calling us back into the courtroom. I’ll call and check in later. Text me if anything good happens. Oh, and send me a picture of some hot military guys so I have something to look at."

"Yes, ma’am. Talk to you later." Trish disconnected the call.

It definitely would have been much more fun if Dawn had been able to come but at least she’d have her brother, Danny.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced down to see his name on the readout. Speak of the devil…

She hit the button to answer. "I see you replaced your cell so you don’t have to call me from your friend’s phone anymore."

"Yes, I did. And no teasing. I’ve had enough from him on that subject. Where are you?" he asked.

"Where you told me to be. Parked along the curb in front of your ship, and hoping the cops don’t chase me since I’ve been here for like twenty minutes already and this is a no parking zone."

"I know. Sorry. They just cut us loose now. We’ll be right down."

"Okay. See ya."

We.
Trish had to wonder who Danny had with him. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

He wasn’t right down as he’d promised, but about ten nerve wracking minutes later, as Trish kept one eye trained for parking enforcement and the police because she’d been standing in a no parking zone for half an hour, her brother and one other guy appeared. A very large guy, she noticed. One who filled out his uniform quite nicely.

"Hey, Trish. Good to see you." Danny hugged her, and then peered past her into the car. He frowned. "Wait. Where’s Dawn?"

Danny’s obvious disappointment had Trish laughing. "She couldn’t make it. And it’s very nice to see you too, big brother."

"I thought you were bringing her."

"I thought I was too, but something came up." She gave up waiting for her brother to make the introductions and turned to the Marine standing off to the side. She extended her hand toward him and couldn’t help but notice he had the bluest eyes she’d seen on anyone, male or female, in a long time. "Hi. I’m Trish."

"Sorry." Danny turned to include his friend in the conversation. "This is John O’Malley, but you can call him Crash. We all do. Crash, this is my sister, Trish."