“What’s the place called again?” I asked as pulled my hair out of its ponytail. I was riding shotgun, and the warm air coming through my window whipped my hair back off my face as I glanced over at Brad, who was our designated driver for the night.

He glanced over at me and grinned. “The Stripe. I think you’ll like it. Low key, casual, a good-sized dance floor.”

“You calling me ‘casual’?”

Brad chuckled, and the others in the back, Macy and Glen, leaned forward to join the conversation. Glen clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Never call a lady casual, man. So not smooth.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t implying anything. You’re putting words in my mouth.” He took a right turn and straightened out. “Besides. What’s the harm in that? You’re the definition of casual, Hart.”

I scoffed. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Really. You trying to tell me otherwise? When was the last time you wore a dress?”

“Graduation probably.” Macy giggled in the back.

I shot her a defensive look. “Maybe. But so what? Dresses are impractical. You can’t do anything in them.”

“Like what?” Glen teased. “We’re not saying to wear them when you’re on duty. The coastguard is no place for frilly dresses and high heels.”

“Exactly,” I said as I ran my hands over my thighs. I was starting to wonder if I should have dressed up a little more like Macy had. She was wearing a pretty spaghetti-strap blouse with little sunflowers all over it. She had paired it with white jeans and heeled gold sandals, and her dark skin and wild hair made her look like a summer goddess. I, on the other hand, was a pale-skinned strawberry blonde. My time out on the ocean had given me a wicked sunburn on my cheeks and shoulders. My freckles stood at full attention, and I hadn’t bothered to slap any makeup on besides a layer of glittery lip gloss.

I should have taken Macy up on her offer to paint my face. She was in the Coast Guard as well but managed to balance femininity with practicality effortlessly.

My outfit of form-fitting jeans and a cropped black tank top offered no grace or softness. My slip-on sneakers weren’t helping my case, either.

“There it is,” Brad said as he turned off the road and drove over sets of speed bumps through a crowded parking lot.

I let my gaze wander over the two dozen or so men and women lingering around the outside of the bar. Most were dressed in their military uniforms. “You didn’t say this place was a magnet for soldiers.”

“It’s a magnet for anyone who doesn’t get out much,” Brad said as we came to an abrupt halt in a parking space. He shot me a grin and unbuckled his seatbelt before hopping out of the jeep. “Come on. Let’s get some drinks. It’s been way too long since we were all out together.”

I hopped out as well and tugged at the hem of my cropped tank. Macy hooked her elbow in mine and shook her head at me. “You don’t need the dress and heels to look hot as hell, Josephine. Trust me. You’re a total babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, Hart,” Macy amended. “But my point still stands. Total babe.”

I laughed as the four of us made our way through the throng of soldiers lingering around outside, smoking cigarettes and cigars. We slipped through the front doors and were hit with the amber smell of beer and the roar of music.

“Oh, hell yeah,” I breathed, pausing to get a good look around.

Brad was right. The place was really casual and just my speed. The floors were old worn hardwood, and the dance floor was right smack in the middle of the room and surrounded by tables with little candles burning in the middle. The decor was pretty southern with animal horns and antlers mounted on the wall above the bar.

The bar itself was massive. Three bartenders were working, two men and one woman. All were laughing and chatting with customers sitting at the barstools.

“I’m gonna get us a round,” I called to Macy over the music.

“All right, we’ll get a table,” she said as I left my group and went across the dance floor to the bar.

I sidled between two empty barstools and rested my elbows on the bar as I read the specials menu mounted on the back wall. When the bartender asked for my order, I got four tequila shots and four beers. He poured the shots first and pressed a lime wedge to each rim. Then he topped up four beers, which brimmed over with foam, and I grabbed cash from my back pocket.

Someone pushed my hand down flat on the bar when I went to give the bartender his money. “Hey,” I said, a little annoyed as a stranger reached around and paid for my tab. I looked up, ready to tell him to shove his womanizing head up his ass, and blinked when I found myself staring into a pair of familiar hazel eyes.

“Why hello there, Josephine Hart.” Zachary Flynn grinned.

I blinked under his stare and stood there like a fool, mouth half open, trying to figure out something cute to say. What I said was not cute at all. “I should have worn a dress.”

“Sorry?” Zach asked, eyebrows drawing together as he took his change from the bartender.

“What?” I asked, horrified that I had spoken the thought aloud. “Nothing. Sorry. What the hell are you doing here, Zach?”

Zach leaned sideways to rest his elbow on the bar. Good Lord, he was handsome—even more so than he was in my memories of him that I reflected back on too often than I cared to admit. He also looked different. The lines of his face were sharper, as was his jaw, and that softness he had when he was a teenager was long gone. He was a man now, broad-shouldered and lean. It was easy to see under his jeans and T-shirt that he was in incredible shape.

He also had a rougher look to him. His nose was crooked, and I was sure it hadn’t been the last time I saw him. He’d probably broken it at least once in his time in the service. One shoulder also sat slightly lower than the other, an indication of a previously broken collarbone.

“I’ve been at the San Antonio Air Force Base for the last little bit. I think the question should be what are you doing here? Never thought I’d see you out of Austin.” Zach was looking at me with that same cocky grin I remembered so well from when he used to squash my teenage heart on a daily basis. He was my older brother, Ryan’s, best friend, and four years older than me. He was in his final year when I just entered high school, and he was the sole reason I had shitty grades that year. My adolescent, hormone-ridden body had been completely infatuated with him.

“I’m with the Coast Guard now,” I said, tipping my head in the direction of the ocean like a moron.

His eyebrows crept up toward his hair, which was a lot shorter than it used to be. “Coast Guard, huh? Damn. Guess that’s where all these muscles came from.” He reached out and lightly touched my bare bicep, and I felt my cheeks begin to burn. “How come Ryan never told me you turned into such a badass chick?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t want me doing this. He and Dad wanted me to stay home and take over the bar. But that wasn’t for me.”

Zach nodded knowingly. “I always knew you would surprise everyone.”

I pinched my bottom lip between my teeth to stop myself from giggling. If Brad or Glen saw me acting like such a fangirl, I would never live it down.

“Who are you here with?” Zach asked, as if he could read my mind.

“A few friends from my team. You?”

“Some buddies from my squadron.” Zach peered around, narrowing his eyes like it could help him see in the dim lighting of The Stripe. “Don’t know where they wandered off to. But they’re here. Need help carrying these to your table?”

“Er, yeah.”

Zach called the bartender back and ordered himself a beer before stacking the tequila shots one on top of the other. He pinched the tower of shots together with two glasses of beer and then picked them up in one hand. “Think you can manage those three?”

I took the other three beers for my friends and started walking back to the table Macy had scored for us near the dance floor. The three of them were chatting, their voices loud to compensate for the volume of the music, when Zach and I put the drinks down on the table. All three of them looked up at me. Then their eyes flicked to Zach.

“This is Zach, guys. Zach, this is the team. Macy, Brad, and Glen.” My friends waved at Zach as he took his beer from the table and took a sip. He wiped the foam from his upper lip and nodded a hello to them.

“How do you two know each other?” Brad asked.

“Yeah,” Macy said deviously. “How do you know each other?”

I caught her eye and willed her to shut up. “Zach was my brother’s best friend in high school. We haven’t seen each other in what, eight or so years? Maybe more?”

“Probably closer to ten or twelve,” Zach said. “Somewhere around there.”

Shit, girl. Have you really been daydreaming about a guy you haven’t seen in over a decade on a weekly basis since he left? How embarrassing.

“Have a seat, Zach,” Glen offered, kicking a chair out for Zach.

Zach dropped down into it, and I took the open one beside him. He reached out, grabbed the armrest of my chair, and used it to pull me closer to him. The wooden legs squealed across the floor, but he didn’t seem to care.

“So,” he said. “You never grew out of that whole ‘I’m going to make a difference’ complex you had when you were a kid, hey?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“The Coast Guard. Obviously that’s why you joined. Am I wrong?” He asked the question like it was a challenge. He already had me figured out.

“No. You’re not.”

He grinned sheepishly and nodded at the tequila shots on the table. “You lot gonna take those, or what?”

It was all the encouragement Brad and Glen needed. They scooped up their shots, and Macy was quick to follow. I grabbed mine, and the four of us clinked our tiny glasses together before I poured mine down my throat without letting it touch my tongue. Then I sucked on the lime wedge for a minute and dropped it back into the now-empty glass before washing down the shot with a few mouthfuls of beer.

Zach was laughing at me.

“What?” I asked, feeling a smile beginning to tug at the corners of my mouth. His laugh was contagious and heartwarming, and so damn nostalgic.

“Nothing,” he said as he reined in his laughter. His gaze remained on me when he drank from his beer, his hazel eyes peeking over the rim of the glass.

Someone bumped the back of my chair and then grabbed my shoulder to apologize. I looked up into a face with wide-set eyes and a smiling mouth full of big teeth. The man was big—really big—and drunk. He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry about that, little lady. Can be a bit clumsy sometimes. Been a while since I had any of the stiff stuff, you know?”

“It’s all right,” I said. I turned back to face Zach, and the man kept his hand on my shoulder.

“You know this girl, Flynn?” the big man asked.

Zach’s eyes lifted to look at the man who still had his hand on me. I was getting close to swatting him off. I didn’t like being touched. Especially not by a stranger. Zach sipped his beer and then placed it on the table. “We grew up in the same town.”

“Ah,” the big man said. “Unlucky for you, girlie. Flynn’s a real prick, hey?”

I shrugged my shoulder out of his grip and didn’t bother looking up at him. “He’s a friend, actually. Have a good night.”

The man opened his mouth to speak, and Zach got to his feet. He offered me his hand and looked at me expectantly. I took it, and he guided me up beside him. “Excuse us, Ghoul. We were just about to dance.”

Zach led me away from the table and out onto the dance floor. I could feel the man Zach referred to as “Ghoul” watching us as we stepped under the swirling beams of light that illuminated the middle of the bar. Zach pulled me into him, and we began moving in rhythm to the music. His hand fell to my lower back as he took my right hand with his left and lifted it up to a waltz position.

He smelled like pine and sandalwood, and my heart began beating to a quicker rhythm than the beat of the song.