It took a little more soothing, and more than a couple of kisses each, but Laramie was soon able to ease himself away. And, he noted as he made his way down the bar, he left the women happily chatting away.
“Impressive,” intoned a Nordic giant most of the team called Ice. Ensign Dag Eckhart was six-five and built like one of the mountains from his homeland.
“Were you coming to save me?” Laramie asked with a grin, noting that the large man was on full alert, something he’d come to recognize from the way Ice’s white-blond hair stood on end.
Ice was relatively new to the team, having only joined before their last mission. They’d just come off a two-month deployment that’d involved training foreign counterparts in strategic defense in a country that didn’t believe in hamburgers, beer or fraternizing with women.
So he knew the man wasn’t trying to be insulting. But the idea that there was any situation that involved the fairer sex that Laramie couldn’t handle?
He’d thought his reputation was stronger than that.
Laramie tilted his Stetson back a little farther on his forehead and sighed.
Damn, he wanted a beer.
He didn’t get two feet before he was surrounded by laughing teammates.
“Dude, why’d you stop them? They hadn’t got to the hair-pulling and clothes-shredding part of the fight.” Mick Samuels, aka Blackjack, looked as if he was going to cry in his beer. “You know that’s the part I like best.”
“You’re a sad little man,” Ice deemed, shaking his head in dismayed judgment.
“Everyone’s little to you.” Blackjack shrugged. “I’ll bet you have plenty of dirty little thoughts, there, Dag.”
Looking as offended as if Mick had just suggested his mama did dirty times with polar bears, Dag shifted his stance, looming over the smaller man.
Laramie just kept moving toward the room at the back of the bar reserved for the SEAL team. There, he lifted a finger to the roving waitress, then angled it toward Castillo’s table. She responded with a wink and a look of interest that he debated while he took his seat.
“Looks like you might have plans for tonight,” Castillo said by way of a greeting.
“Nah,” Laramie decided. That didn’t stop him from giving the leggy brunette a slow smile of thanks when she leaned close to bring him his order. He did a quick inventory, noting the bare ring finger, easy smile and hot appreciation in her eyes, then slid his hand over hers on the glass of beer. “I’ve got plans tonight.”
The brunette looked disappointed, but slipped a folded napkin into his hand before sauntering away. He took a second to enjoy the swing of her hips, then tucked the paper into his pocket. He didn’t have to glance at it. He knew it’d be her phone number.
“Nice of you to put Murdock on his ass,” Castillo said. “Nothing like a little welcoming humiliation to cement his hard-on to outdo the SEALs.”
“You’re welcome.” Laramie grinned, twisting the chair around to straddle it. “I’m only sorry I didn’t put him on it a lot faster.”
Castillo chuckled as he reached for his own beer.
“Guaranteed, that guy is gonna be a pain in our asses for the next four weeks.”
“If you’re lucky.” At Castillo’s questioning look, Laramie reminded him, “He reported for duty four days early. What d’ya wanna bet he’ll try to extend training a week or three longer than scheduled?”
“Damn.” Castillo’s scowl only lasted a second before his grin busted it up. “We’re due for predeployment as soon as Donovan and Thorne get back the first of the month. Murdock can stick around if he wants, but that’s his expiration date.”
“I ran into Murdock on my way off the island,” Blackjack said, referring to the location of the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, as he joined them. He knocked a chair back with one foot, then slid into it in one smooth move. “Crazy bastard was going on about how he was going to put us in our place. He’s aiming hard for you, Cowboy.”
“That’s just fine. I’ll be happy to kick his ass again when I get back,” Laramie said in a slow drawl. “Guys like Murdock, they’ve always got things to prove.”
“He keeps calling us girls, we might want to make it our business,” Blackjack muttered into his beer.
Poor guy, he was still so green. Laramie shared a look with Castillo. They were gonna have to rub some of that shine off Samuels, PDQ.
“He keeps calling you girls, then as soon as I get back, we’ll all just drop our drawers and crush his ego once and for all,” Laramie told the new SEAL, downing the last of his beer as the others burst out laughing.
“My wife will vouch for mine,” Castillo said with a smile. Laramie figured Genna would vouch for anything when it came to Castillo. Poor girl was crazy in love.
“What’re your plans for the next three weeks?” Castillo asked, propping his size thirteen boots on the opposite chair. “You heading back to Texas?”
“First flight out.”
“What d’you do there?” Blackjack grinned. “You working your way through a harem or two?”
As if.
“My plans for leave include three weeks of peace and quiet,” he said, his words a little dreamy. “I’m heading for a small cabin in the Guadalupe Mountains. No traffic, no neighbors, not even a television.”
“Seriously?”
At Laramie’s nod, Blackjack’s face fell like a three-year-old being told that Santa was a big fat myth.
“And the women?” Castillo asked, looking much less disappointed than the other man.
“I said peace. That means no women.” Then, because his reputation demanded it, he added, “Most of these guys, they use leave to get all the women they can. Me? I get them all the time. I use leave to recoup.”
“One of these days, Cowboy, you’re going to find the right woman.” Castillo’s smile was wicked enough to assure Laramie that he wasn’t offering a friendly assurance so much as wishing retribution. “And she’s going to have you hog-tied and branded while you just sit there.”
“I’m a tactical warfare specialist trained in recognizing, analyzing and neutralizing threats.” Laramie shook his head. “In other words, that ain’t never gonna happen.”
No way in hell. He’d seen up close and personal what loving a man who put his career first did to a woman. And sure, some of the team might have found women who could deal with the pressures and demands—or so they thought. But Laramie was his old man’s son. He had the same looks, the same thirst for adventure, the same kick-ass skills. It stood to reason he’d have the same talent for ruining the life of any woman crazy enough to love him.
“No way,” Blackjack echoed, looking as offended as if Murdock had just come in and threw down pictures to prove the entire team was as dickless as he kept implying. “Cowboy is a legend. His reputation is unparalleled. Don’t even jinx it.”
“Don’t worry.” Laramie patted the guy’s shoulder. “I’m completely committed to keeping the legend alive,