Chapter 2

Jane glanced around the bar, sucking on the orange they’d stuck to the lip of her glass. Actually, on size alone the glass should be called a schooner. A bucket? She wasn’t sure, but that was a hell of a lot of tropical punch. If she didn’t want to end up in bed with one of these fishermen, she was going to have to pace herself. With a nurse’s eye she glanced around the bar, looking for people who might be suffering from alcohol poisoning. No CPR required yet, but it was still early.

She still wasn’t sure how she’d let her cousin talk her into coming to Orange Beach. She didn’t go to clubs and hang out with strange guys. She was sober, responsible, dependable Jane. She and David had come here before he deployed. At the thought of her older brother, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With him, all of this had been fun. Tonight it was just insanity. Who the hell came to watch a bunch of strangers hang poor, dead giant fish from hooks anyway? The memory of David standing next to her cheering as they announced the weight of the winning fish flashed through her mind and she sniffed. She supposed he’d been the kind of guy who came to watch that, dammit. Now she was going to cry and everyone would think she was drunk from her schooner of punch.

“Hey, gorgeous,” a man said from her left. “Like to fish?”

She turned to see a tall, tanned blond standing there grinning at her. Or, to be more precise, grinning at her cleavage. In his defense, she was wearing a bikini top. That would be number two on her list of this evening’s stupid decisions, number one being coming here in the first place. She definitely should have changed before coming to the bar. While in a perfect world it shouldn’t matter what she was wearing, in the real world a bikini top at a bar, even in Orange Beach, usually meant a girl wanted attention. Jane didn’t want attention. At least not that kind. As boring as it was, she was a good girl. She glanced around, searching for her cousin Margo. Margo would kill her if she left without telling her. The whole purpose of this trip, in Margo’s head at least, had been to get Jane to loosen up and have some fun. She reached for her phone in the back pocket of her cutoff jean shorts so she could text her, but the blond fisherman grabbed her arm, spilling her drink a little.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his grin still in place and looking a little too predatory for her taste. “Catfish got your tongue?”

“That wasn’t even funny,” she said, shaking her head. “Was that supposed to be funny?” She tried to pull her arm away.

“She speaks,” he said, pulling her closer as she tried again to yank her arm free, no longer worried about spilling her drink. “Don’t be shy. We all came here for a good time, right?”

“If you don’t let go of my arm I’m going to be forced to defend myself,” she told him seriously. “It will involve a lot of pain on your part, and possible police involvement. Do you really want to go there?” She made a mental note of the best way to reach the lymph node in his neck. One well-placed thumb and a hell of a lot of pressure and he’d be screaming like a little girl.

“Jeez,” he said, curling his lip as he shoved her arm away from him. Most of her punch ended up on the floor. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it. No wonder you were standing over here alone.”

“Alone is preferable to being with you,” she said. She was about to turn away when he pushed it one step over the line.

“You probably suck in bed, anyway,” he sneered loudly. “A bitch like you won’t give it up without a fight.” She heard male laughter from behind him.

“Do you honestly believe I care what you think about me?” she asked incredulously. A little voice in her head said to leave it alone and walk away, but she just couldn’t. If there was one thing she hated, it was bullies. “I know, without a doubt, that you are horrible in bed. You are clearly selfish, self-centered, and egotistical, and believe that any woman is lucky to be a receptacle for your dick. And FYI, if a woman tries to fight you off before you fuck her, then that’s rape, asshole.” She grabbed her phone and quickly snapped a picture of him. “This is for the police in case they have any cold cases of rape that fit your MO.” He made a grab for her phone, but she yanked it out of the way. She stumbled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for her arm again, but before he touched her, a big guy stepped between them. She straightened and stared at the wide expanse of back and shoulders in front of her. The man was huge, completely blocking her view of the guy who’d been harassing her.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” another male voice asked politely from her right. She turned to see another big guy, not quite as large as the first, looking her up and down. He wasn’t leering, but rather assessing her, as if checking for injuries. When his light-colored eyes met hers at last, she felt a jolt of awareness. Those eyes alone could make a girl lose her panties. Paired with a sinfully hot body, they made him dangerous to her equilibrium. For this guy she’d be willing to forget she was a good girl.

“I was saying no, and he didn’t like it,” she said, flustered. “I can take care of myself, but thanks.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said calmly and quietly. He turned away before she could answer. “King,” he said.

The big guy in front of her turned and regarded her over his shoulder, his look similar to his friend’s. He was even better looking than his friend. When he was obviously assured of her well-being, he stepped out of the way. “Apologize to the lady.”

“Holy shit,” her harasser said. “You’re King Ulupoka. Can I get a picture?” He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, but the one named King put up a hand.

“After the apology, huh?” He had a lilting accent, maybe Pacific Islander. His warm-caramel skin and shoulder-length, kinky brown hair fit his voice, too, not to mention the tribal tats on his arms.

“Sure, sure,” the jerk said, fawning. “Sorry I took offense at the brush-off, babe,” he threw her way. “But you were pretty harsh.”

She turned to her rescuer with the light eyes. Her stomach did a somersault when she found him watching her carefully. “Did that sound like an apology?” she asked sarcastically. “Or did I miss something?”

“Want a better one?” he asked. “I can make that happen.” Something about the way he said it gave her a little chill, but she wasn’t sure if the goosebumps were because at that moment he was scary as hell, or if it was because his tough confidence was also sexy as hell.

“Uh, no thanks,” she said, quickly declining. “The sound of his voice is just too annoying at this point.”

While they were talking, the one named King had allowed the jerk to take a photo with him. “Let me post it for you,” King said, smiling as he took the phone. The other guy was practically wetting himself with excitement.

“Sure, man,” he gushed. He leaned over and pressed a button on his phone. “Do you want to write something?” He turned and waved across the bar. “King Ulupoka is posting on my Snapchat,” he called across the room.

King began to read aloud as he typed. “Called a nice girl a bitch at bar,” he read. “King Ulupoka says I’m an ass. Post.”

“Wait, what?” the jerk asked, grabbing for his phone. King gave it up without a fight. After reading the post with a shocked look on his face, he glared at King. He made sure to take several steps away before he yelled, “You’re the ass. I’m cheering for the Steelers. The Rebels are a bunch of gay losers, anyway.” He hurried away and the crowd swallowed him up immediately.

“And that’s how we keep the Rebels’ fan-base gene pool asshole-free,” King said, dusting off his hands as he turned back to Jane.

“So, Rebels?” she asked. “As in the Birmingham Rebels?” Even though they were her hometown team, she didn’t know that much about them. These guys definitely looked like football players, though.

“Yes, ma’am,” King said, smiling. She got the impression he usually did most of the talking. “I’m King Ulupoka, and this is Sam Taylor. We play for the Rebels.” He shook her hand and Sam did the same.

“Jane Foster,” she said. “Well, thanks,” she said in the awkward silence that followed. “I appreciate your stepping in. But I could’ve handled him.”

“You know martial arts or something?” King asked, clearing a space at the bar for the three of them.

“Just self-defense moves,” she admitted with a shrug. “But I used to beat my older brother up when we were kids.”

Sam smiled slightly, not looking at her, and she felt an unwarranted thrill of victory. His smile made her think of other things she’d like him to do with that mouth, starting with kissing her. She’d bet he was a good kisser.

“As an older brother, I hate to tell you that he probably just let you beat him up and took the fall,” King said sadly. “It’s in the big-brother handbook.”

She smiled and laughed. “Yeah, I always figured,” she said. “Let me buy you guys a drink. As a thank you.” Both men looked down skeptically at what was left of her tropical punch. “Not one of these,” she assured them, putting the drink on the counter. She grabbed a few bar napkins and tried to wipe down her arm. “This stuff is lethal. And most of mine ended up on the floor. How about a round of shots?” She really needed a good stiff drink. This night had gone from bad to worse.

“What kind?” King asked, surprising her. For some reason she thought they’d object to a woman buying them a round.

“Whatever you like,” she said, meaning it. She could drink just about anything in small doses. She didn’t care that much for alcohol one way or the other, which was probably a good thing.

“Ice-cold vodka,” Sam said, surprising her again. He hadn’t spoken for several minutes.

“All right.” She called a bartender over. “Three vodka shots.”

King stopped him with a raised hand. “Ice cold. The good stuff.” The bartender grinned.

“You got it, King,” he said. Clearly he was a fan.

Another awkward silence descended. “So,” Sam said nervously, wiping his palms on his jeans. King was giving him an odd look. There was clearly some sort of silent communication going on between them. “Are you cold?” he asked her suddenly. She looked back at him in surprise and saw his eyes glued to her forehead.

“No,” she said casually. “Why?” She was overplaying the innocent act, but Sam was getting flustered, clearly trying not to stare at her boobs, and it was pretty funny. Normally she wasn’t such a tease, but these two seemed pretty sweet and nobody knew her here.

“No, I just, I mean, it’s cold, cool…in here. Cool in here,” he said. Jane was thoroughly enjoying his complete lack of finesse.

“Oh, are you cold?” she asked in mock concern. She almost brushed her chest against his arm as she reached around him as if she were grabbing the jacket off the nearest chair. She honestly had no idea who it belonged to. “It’s not much, but if you need it…”

“No!” he said loudly, holding up his hand as if to stop her, but then yanked it back, looking horrified that he’d almost touched her boob. She couldn’t hold in her laughter anymore and Sam looked chagrined. “I guess I deserved that,” he admitted, blushing.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” King said, shaking his head. “He’s out of practice with women.” The smile he gave her made arousal zip up her spine, raising the hairs on the nape of her neck. He was clearly not out of practice with women. And what the hell was wrong with her? Normally she’d never even consider it, but here were two walking advertisements for casual sex, and boy was she buying.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jane said, feeling like an idiot for several reasons. “Bad breakup? Divorce?” She’d talked a lot of her friends through both of those.

“No, nothing like that,” Sam said, not looking at her. “I was overseas, you know, Army. And since I got back, I just haven’t had time.”

Her gut clenched. “What unit?” she asked with a sense of dread.

“Are you military?” Sam asked, alarm in his voice.

“No,” she said, wondering why the idea bothered him. “My brother.”

“Tenth Mountain Division,” Sam said. “Your brother?”

“He was with the Rangers,” she said, smiling.

“Where is he now?” Sam asked. He’d moved up to the bar, relaxing against it.

“He’s in Arlington,” she said, with a wobbly smile.

She saw Sam’s hand clench into a fist on the bar. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly.

“Three shots,” the bartender said, lining them up in front of them.

“Perfect timing,” she told him with relief as she picked hers up. “What are we drinking to?” Sam and King picked up their glasses.

“Your brother,” King said. “For teaching you to fight.”

“To David,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. Before she became a blubbering mess, she tipped the glass and swallowed the shot. It felt cold and thick in her mouth and went down smoothly. “Another,” she called to the bartender. He walked back over with the bottle and filled all their glasses again.

“What are we drinking to this round?” King asked seriously.

“To nice guys,” she said, raising her glass to each of them. King’s look was enigmatic, but Sam looked a little angry and a lot lost.

“To nice guys,” King said and they all tipped back the shots.

“Another?” the bartender asked. She covered her glass.

“None for me,” she said. “I’m not much of a drinker, and between the little bit of punch I had and these two shots, I’m at my limit, thanks.” Understatement of the night. Lately her limit had been zero. “I was about to leave, anyway, when that jerk started hassling me.”

“No more for me,” Sam said. He pushed away from the bar. “It was nice meeting you.” He started to turn away but King stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Can we walk you to your car?” King asked politely. There was some of that silent communication between him and Sam again, and she could almost feel Sam’s discomfort radiating in the air. She tried not to be disappointed. He was obviously not into her, while she felt a zing every time he got close enough for her to feel his body heat.

She pondered King’s question as she regarded them both. She thought maybe King liked her, but they were together and that made it awkward. They must not have planned on hooking up with anyone tonight. Then again, she hadn’t either. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she actually wouldn’t mind the company walking back to the hotel, not after what had already happened. The odds of being accosted by another drunk fisherman tonight were pretty good. She pulled out her phone. “Driver’s licenses,” she said.

“What?” Sam asked, looking adorably confused. King was already pulling his out.

“She’s going to take a picture of them and send it to someone,” King explained. “It’s what I told Talia to do if she ever leaves a place with a strange guy.”

“Yep,” Jane said. She snapped a picture of King’s Alabama license. Sam slowly pulled out his wallet and took his license out.

“I feel like I’m registering to vote,” he said. Jane laughed as she took a picture of his license. “Now get together,” she said. “I want a live shot.”

Sam shook his head as King put an arm around him and hauled him close, smiling for the camera. As Jane snapped their picture she saw several other flashes go off around them. “I guess there will be lots of witnesses,” she said with a shrug. “Give me a sec.” She quickly texted Margo and sent her the pictures.

These guys are walking me back to the hotel. Some jerk got handsy and they rescued me. They play football for the Rebels. Recognize them?

“Okay,” she said, slipping the phone into her back pocket again. “Let’s go. Only I didn’t drive. I’m staying at the Marriott, about two blocks over. Is that okay? I’d appreciate the escort after what happened a little while ago.”

“Sure,” King said in his big, expansive way. Everything he said sounded like it should be accompanied by a wide-armed gesture of welcome. She liked it. He was larger than life in everything he did. It was cute in a weird way. “We’re staying there, too,” he added. “So it all works out.” His smile was so genuine that Jane knew she wasn’t getting any tonight. No way a guy who smiled like that was planning to try to take advantage of her. She sighed with resignation. Just once she’d like to be the girl that guys like him wanted to take to bed. She might not go with them, but she wanted to be wanted.

“Yeah, no problem,” Sam said tightly. “I’ve got to get out of here, anyway. Not a big fan of crowds these days.”

Jane could tell. She wondered how long he’d been back from his tour, but she didn’t ask. They weren’t exchanging life stories or anything else. “Thanks,” she said simply. King moved off and she followed him. Sam trailed behind her and they made their way through the crowd with King clearing a path. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to see a text from Margo.

Holy shit! The big one is King something or other. I think he plays defense? Maybe? I don’t know the other one. Maybe he’s new? They’re cute! Are you really going to do them both?!

Jane choked at Margo’s last question.

No! They’re just walking me back to the hotel. You’ve got such a dirty mind. Will I see you back there tonight?

Probably not. I’ve hooked a live one. Not as big as your Kingfish, but he’ll do. LOL Pictures to follow, I know the rules.

Almost immediately a picture of a goofy-looking guy mugging for the camera came through, and then a driver’s license.

Don’t do anything I’m not going to do. Or I will be totally jealous.

Jane laughed at Margo’s final text.

You know me. Chances are I won’t do anything our grandmother wouldn’t do.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked from behind her, and she realized she’d slowed down to text with Margo.

“Just letting my cousin know I’m leaving,” she told him. “Come on, let’s get out of this madhouse.”