The thud of a bass could be felt a block away from the bar as Bristol Abbot climbed out of her car and carefully adjusted her skirt to protect her modesty. While she wasn’t a prude, she also had no interest in the whole world seeing her bits, and the skirt barely covered them, to begin with.

“I have no idea how you talked me into wearing this. I’m going to spend the whole night trying to keep my ass covered,” she grumbled as her sister, Olive joined her on the sidewalk.

“You look hot,” Olive replied with a shrug. “These guys are leaving in thirty-six hours and will be gone for months. They deserve a peek to jerk off to in exchange for their sacrifice.”

“Oh my God, that’s disgusting.” Bristol tucked her cell phone into the cup of her bra and followed Olive toward the line of people standing outside the popular bar. They didn’t even make it to the line before the bouncer was waving them inside. She could feel eyes burning into the back of her head as the people left outside jealously watched the sisters enter.

It irked her a bit that she was being let in even as it boosted her ego. If the bouncer had seen her two hours earlier, he never would have registered her presence, much less considered letting her inside. Dressing up had been strictly for her best friend’s benefit and only at her sister’s insistence.

Roan Storm and his unit had been activated. Tomorrow, he and his fellow Marines were leaving the United States for foreign lands. Like the previous times, she had no clue where he was being sent or exactly when he would return, and that meant she had to make the most of her time with him now.

Olive grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowded bar. It seemed everywhere she looked, she came across the hungry eyes of people searching for something inside the bar they were unlikely to find. There was a sense of sexual urgency in the air that made it hard to breathe as bodies pressed together and moved with the music.

A girl laughed near her, and a man brushed against her, copping a feel of her ass as he went. Bristol didn’t have a chance to protest or punch him in the face before she was being wrapped up in a pair of massive arms and held against a thick chest.

“There you are B. I was beginning to think you’d chickened out.” Roan’s deep voice rumbled through her, and she relaxed in his arms. The discomfort from her walk through the bar soothed by his familiar touch.

Peering up at him, she wrinkled her nose. “Have I ever chickened out of one of these things? I’ve been at every one of your going away parties.”

“Sure,” Roan nodded, grinning down at her, “but only because there’s a chance I might die. It’s all the other invitations you’ve bailed on.”

Bristol couldn’t deny it. She was a notorious homebody. She would prefer to be in her pajamas watching Netflix alone with a bottle of wine than in heels surrounded by horny men. Despite the social stigma, she liked her life of seclusion. Her job working at a high-end, retail clothing store brought her into contact with the public on a daily basis, and when she left work, she just wanted time and space to be herself. There was nothing wrong with that.

“And I promise to always be there before you die,” she assured Roan with a pat on his chest before she stepped out of his arms. “You know, you could have at least picked a place to do this where we didn’t have to shout at each other to be heard.”

“What?” Roan yelled, his smile growing. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”

Turning to the table at his back, Roan grabbed a pitcher of beer and held it up in offering. When she nodded, he filled a glass and pressed it into her hand.

“Thanks,” she frowned when he put the pitcher back down. “Where’s yours?”

Roan pointed at her glass, “That’s mine. I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll drink it all, so I’ll just wait until you try to put it down, without me noticing and finish it off.”

Laughter bubbled out of her throat. He knew her well. She wasn’t a beer drinker. Hell, she wasn’t really a drinker at all, just the occasional glass of wine. Emphasis on one glass because more than one left her groggy the next morning.

“Hey, Roan.” Olive stepped up to hug him before asking, “Where’s the fam?”

“Asher should be here anytime, he had to work late,” Roan said, winking at Bristol. “That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

Olive rolled her eyes. “As if. I was just being polite. I really don’t care where your brothers are.”

“Mmmhmm. Well, Cooper is over there,” Roan pointed out his brother who was nearby with a couple guys from his squad. “Jaden had something come up and couldn’t come tonight, but he and I are grabbing lunch tomorrow before I check in.”

“And Micah?” Bristol asked, her eyebrow arching in question as Olive elbowed her in the side.

Roan just pointed across the bar. Following the aim of his finger, Bristol found the man in question between two gorgeous women on the dance floor. Neither woman seemed concerned she didn’t have his full attention, and he certainly seemed happy to be in the middle.

“Figures,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Micah Storm was the only Storm brother she’d ever gone out with, and he’d treated her just like he treated all woman. Casually. Her pride had been bruised enough, she still held a small grudge. Olive, on the other hand, had never had eyes for any Storm brother but Asher who didn’t seem to even see her.

“I see Karly just got here. I’m going to go say hello.” Olive was gone in a flash, leaving Bristol and Roan behind as she hurried off to meet her coworker and best-friend.

“And that’s the last I’ll likely see of her tonight.” Turning back to Roan, Bristol took a small sip of the beer in her hand. “Have you heard from Payton?”

“Yeah,” Roan nodded, “she’s not thrilled about her new digs.”

“Did you really think she would be?” Bristol questioned. “All she wanted was to come back home, and instead, she got shipped up to North Dakota.”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Roan protested. “She needs this. As much as she says she’s fine, we can all see she isn’t. She needs some time to process what happened to her.”

Payton Storm was the youngest of the Storm siblings and the only girl in the group. With five older brothers, she’d been born to be a Marine. Sadly, an IED had cut her career short and left her with permanent injuries. Between the physical and mental therapy she needed, her doctors and family had decided sending her to a facility for her recovery made the most sense. Bristol didn’t know much about it other than it was a ranch of some sort in North Dakota. She had a hard time picturing Payton on a ranch of any kind, but she hoped, for her friend’s sake, it was good for her.

“Hey, pretty lady, wanna dance?” Cooper Storm’s voice sounded right next to her ear and she jumped, splashing her beer on her blouse.

“Damn it. Don’t do that, Coop,” she hissed, dabbing at the splotch with her fingers as if she could brush it away. “Scared the shit out of me.”

Roan snagged a napkin off the table and pressed it against her chest trying to help. Bristol flushed as she realized he was nearly cupping her breast in his hand. Jerking back a step, she pulled the material of her shirt away from her skin to escape the ice cold wet spot and the scorching heat of a man’s hand on her.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she told Roan, glaring at Cooper. “Give a girl some warning.”

“I can’t help it if my mere presence turns intelligent women into fumbling disasters,” Cooper joked before wrapping an arm around her in a quick hug. “Come on, down the beer, and let’s dance.”

Taking a large swallow of her beer, she pushed it into Roan’s hand, “Watch that for me.”

“You got it. Just save me a dance,” he smiled as she was led away by his brother to the dance floor.

Bristol soon let herself get lost in the music and the freedom of her one night out. She loved to dance with or without a partner, and the DJ was keeping the dance floor full with his set. Avoiding the space Micah and his women occupied, Bristol found herself dancing with at least a dozen different people over the next hour or so. Roan was the only one she felt one hundred percent comfortable with, but he kept getting pulled away by friends wanting to wish him well on his tour overseas.

When she couldn’t go any longer, she collapsed into the booth and downed a full glass of beer, cringing at the sour aftertaste. “That’s disgusting.”

Garret Lole let out a long whistle. “Way to chug it, girl. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were a professional.”

Lole was Roan’s closest male friend and thus, Bristol’s friend. They weren’t particularly close, but she admired and respected the man for his loyalty to Roan. For the most part, he was like another Storm brother in her mind. Off limits in the love department.

“Where’s your flock?” she asked, wiping a drop of beer from her lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a bar without a gaggle of girls hanging on your every word.”

Handsome and charming, Lole was just as much a lady’s man as he was a Marine. In fact, Bristol often wondered if life came down to one or the other, just which role the man would choose. His sun-kissed, surfer boy look left many a woman speechless, and she’d heard tales of his prowess in bed.

“Nah, not at a going away party for my team. This is the first one I’m not going to be with them, so I’m getting in some quality time,” Lole joked. “At least, I was until you showed up, woman. Storm gravitated to you like the earth around the sun, nothing in nature can steal your shine in his eyes.”

For a moment Bristol was offended by the words, but when Lole laughed lightly and poured her another beer, she pushed it aside. She knew better than to take anything he said seriously. Instead of falling victim to her insecurities, she waved her hand in the air like a princess.

“I can’t help it if I sparkle, can I? Either stand back and enjoy the warmth or step into the shade.”

His riotous laughter drew attention, and a moment later, Roan was easing into the seat next to her, his thick arm over her shoulders. “You two appear to be having fun. What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Bristol responded innocently. “Lole was just telling me he wasn’t going with you guys this time. Why didn’t I know that? Who’s going to watch your six?”

Roan’s dark brown eyes went soft, and he drew her in tight to his side. “Worried about me, B? Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of people watching my back while I’m there. I don’t need this pussy slowing me down with his bum knee.”

“What’s wrong with your knee?” Bristol asked, reaching for her glass with an inner cringe. She really needed to find something else to drink. The beer was on par with horse piss in her mind.

“Tore it up playing football a couple weeks ago. Defender went left, I went right, but my knee stayed dead center. Didn’t stand a chance.” Lole rubbed his leg below the table. “That would be the real reason I’m holding this bench seat down instead of grinding on your sweet ass on that dance floor, princess.”

“In your dreams, soldier-boy,” she taunted.

“Dude!” Lole’s mouth fell open in shock. “Did she just call me a s-soldier? What the fuck?”

Laughing at his dramatics, she listened to Roan and Lole throw out the millions of ways soldiers and Marines differed with only half an ear. The beer was buzzing through her veins, and she had to admit, she was genuinely having fun tonight. Sitting in the warmth of Roan’s body, comforted by the half dozen or so Marines surrounding their table, she felt content in spite of her short skirt and killer heels.

* * *

In the midst of chatting with Lole and Bristol, Roan heard a loud booming voice call out his name. Turning, he spotted his oldest brother, Asher marching through the bar. The crowd parted for him naturally as if he were surrounded by an invisible shield. Asher had always had that effect on people. Quiet and somber, the senior Storm brother was no longer active duty, but he would always be a Marine.

“Hey, Storm,” Lole called out in greeting as Roan rose to give his brother a manly one-armed hug and slap on the back. “How’s it hanging?”

“Dead center as always, Lole,” Asher answered back. “Heard you got into a tussle at a game recently. Serves you right always trying to low-ball the defenders.”

“Aw, fuck you, Storm. Not like you’ve never gone under the belt for a hit.” Lole flipped Asher off, then took a big chug of his drink, pointedly ending the conversation.

Focused on Asher, Roan smiled and nodded at Bristol when she gave his brother a quick hello and made a prompt escape in the direction of the lady’s room. She’d once told Roan that ever since Asher had left the Marine Corps behind, she’d felt a sour energy from him. Silly as it sounded, Roan understood what she was saying and didn’t protest when she went out of her way to avoid time with his older brother.

“Work kicking your ass again, Ash?” Roan asked.

“Always. You ready to feel the sand in your ass crack again?” Asher shot back.

“Always,” Roan responded with a loud laugh. “Not sure yet where I’m heading though, so for all I know, it will be snow instead of sand.”

“Not likely given the current state of world affairs, but either way, play it safe.” Asher punched his shoulder. “I ain’t got time to be planning your funeral, so don’t go and get yourself killed.”

“I’ll gladly do my best, Ash.” Roan glanced around them, pointing out the other Storm brothers scattered around, so Asher could say his hellos. When they parted, he was surprised to find Bristol still hadn’t returned from the bathroom.

Perhaps it was his military training or his personal paranoia, but something felt odd to him. Bristol wasn’t a hoity-toity woman. She didn’t spend a lot of time primping in front of a mirror—even when she was dressed to the nines. Where was she?