“Here’s to the Highwaymen!” Nick raised his glass and toasted his brother Mikey, Philip, and Sky, who were all gathered around the table at the Pig & Whistle Pub. They clinked glasses and toasted to good times.
“So you’re sure I can’t talk you into a couple of lagers under the motorway for old time’s sake?” Nick asked. Damn, it was good to see them all in one place. These were his best buddies, but it was a rarity to be together like this. He flashed to them raising their ceremonial swords into an arch at Sky’s nuptials six months ago, but one of the swords stabbed Nick in the heart over his own broken engagement. Tucking away his despair, Nick pasted on his best I’m-having-a-great-time smile and sipped his ale.
“Maybe later, Nick, because it would be kind of cool to be Highwaymen in Jolly Olde England,” Sky said in a faux British accent.
“My new shipmates likened us to vagabonds and cutthroats.”
Sky grinned. “Everything here sounds so fucking British.”
“Duh, Sky. That’s because—”
“I know. I know. They are fucking British.”
“Speaking of new shipmates,” Philip said, “Lieutenant Pritchard tells me you’re working with her friend, Trudy Ashcroft. She sounds like a real piece of work. How’s that going?”
Nick stilled, hoped they couldn’t sense his interest in Trudy. “Trudy’s a loose cannon. She’s what the Brits call cheeky. A free thinker, with a smart mouth bordering on disrespect. I think she was a pissed-off hippie in an earlier life.”
“What’s she doing in the service if she’s such a pain in the arse?” Sky asked.
“Daddy’s, like, the Lord High Commissioner of the whole freakin’ Royal Navy or something.”
Sky whistled low. “Political favors, huh? Well, at least you don’t have to worry about falling for her. Definitely not an option.”
“Are you kidding? For starters, I’ve sworn off women for the time being. Besides, her nickname at Dartmouth was Amazon. Does that tell you anything?”
“A double bagger?” Sky asked.
“Well, not quite but—”
“Shut up, guys. This is inappropriate.” Philip, always the gentleman, added. “She’s a sister-in-arms.”
“Well, apparently not in Nick’s arms,” Sky said, winking. “But I’m not commenting further because I think Nick the Greek is hiding something. I’ve been reading you for years, Nicky, my boy, and I think you got the hots for her.”
“I’m never falling for a woman in uniform again.”
Sky grinned. “Course not. You’d rather have yours out of uniform.”
“Shut up, Sky.” Nick had no idea what had possessed him to trash Trudy like that. Good thing Simon and Doc were at another table. He would never have said those things in front of them—because it was a stretch. But if he’d said anything complimentary, the Highwaymen would have seen through it like nobody’s business. And it was nobody’s business, so this was a good time to change the subject. “How’s my engine room on New York, Philip?”
“You keep forgetting it’s my engine room now. You wanna come by tomorrow and visit?” Philip asked.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Nick missed his ship. Damn Brooke for not only taking his trust, but for taking the USS New York from him too. It would have been beyond cool to still be there while his brother was aboard. Nick wished he could—
Uh oh. Trouble was walking in the door.
It arrived in the guise of Gunnery Sergeant Connor with a woman on each arm. One, Nick assumed was his replacement, Gwyn Pritchard, but the other was none other than Trudy Ashcroft. Looking like a million bucks.
Yup, trouble with a capital T. For Trudy.
Nick let out a deep sigh and shook his head. Just like she entered any space, Trudy hadn’t walked into the pub. She’d glided in. But this was not the same Trudy he’d seen slink into the wardroom his first night aboard—or the one wearing old jeans the night he’d kissed her in the ally. She’d traded in her white coveralls and ratty jeans for some kind of lacy blouse and what could only be described as a hippie skirt—long, gauzy, Indian print fabric that swirled around her even longer legs.
Her hair floated over her shoulders. Ringlets going frickin’ everywhere and framing a made-up face. Trudy in make-up? Yup, and it served to highlight the sparkle in her cat-green eyes and the cocksure smile on those luscious, bee-stung lips. She would have been at home on any fashion runway in the world tonight. Nick glanced around the table and was pretty sure Sky and Mikey had swallowed their tongues.
As the new arrivals approached the table, Sky found his voice, as he’d always done in the presence of a beautiful woman. “Well, look-ee what we have here.” He nodded to the New York’s trainer. “Gunny.”
“Sirs.” Gunny Connor turned to Nick. “Lieutenant Nick. How’s it going in the U.K.?”
“Can’t complain.” Nick dragged his eyes from Trudy to the Marine. “Ensuring good relations with the Allies, Gunny?”
“You know how these international affairs work, sir. Somebody’s got to reach out and be an ambassador of good will.”
Everybody laughed.
“Now this one we know.” Mikey nodded toward Gwyn. “Ma’am.”
“Welcome to my favorite pub, Mike,” she replied.
Mikey grinned at Trudy like an over-eager puppy dog. “But we haven’t made this young lady’s acquaintance.”
Nick was so busted. He dropped his head into his hands, elbows on the table, knowing the other shoe was about to drop.
Sky added, “Surely this lovely woman is not a member of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
“Ah, but there you would be mistaken. I’m Sub-Left-tenant Trudy Ashcroft and you must be Sky.” Sky’s jaw dropped. “Close your mouth, Sky. It’s most unbecoming.” She continued around the table. “And this would be Philip. Put your eyeballs back in their sockets, sir. And, of course, you’re Mikey because you’re the spitting image of the Yank.” Then turning to Nick, she said, “What’s the matter, Yank? Got a headache?”
Nick’s buddies stumbled over each other to pull out chairs for the women, all except Sky, who was frozen to his seat, his mouth still open. Trudy sat down and turned to him. “Seriously, mate. Gonna catch a fly if you don’t close your mouth.” He snapped it shut. “That’s better. Now what’s a girl got to do to get a drink around here?”
* * *
The Yank looked like he’d been poleaxed. Good, Trudy thought. Gwynny was right. Put on a little make-up, dress up in smart casual. Then Trudy would get the Yank’s attention.
Gwyn claimed a glass of ale. “So, Tru, this is the infamous Yank who took my place.”
All eyes turned to Nick. “And just what have you been telling Lieutenant Pritchard about me, Sub-Left-tenant?” he said.
Trudy loved it when he called her by her rank. She knew he was just trying to pretend he didn’t want to take her out in the alley and ravish her again. “Told Gwynny you were a nasty-arsed boss.” That cracked his mates up, Adam, too. The Yank smiled and shook his head.
Gwyn chimed in. “Nice to meet you, Nick. How are things going in my engine room? Trudy keeps me apprised, but I’d love to get down there and see for myself. Mind if I stop by tomorrow?” She turned to her new boss. “That okay with you, Philip?”
“Fine,” he replied. “I’d like to go too. Maybe we should all take a little field trip to each other’s engine rooms and check them out? Care to join us, Ms. Ashcroft?”
Trudy flashed Philip a seductive smile and said in a low, husky voice, “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
Sky spewed beer across the table. “I like her, Nick!” He coughed a few times, cleared his throat, and continued. “I’ve just met the female version of myself!”
Trudy laughed. “That might not be the highest of compliments from what I’ve heard, Skylark, but I’ll take it as one. Anyway, I think an excursion to the New York would be brilliant.” Maybe she’d see some of Gwyn’s ghosties. “How about we do it early in the morning, before the basketball game? You know, the game where we’re gonna kick the New York’s arses. Right, Yank?”
There was laughter all around the table. Drink coasters sailed through the air and hit the Yank in the head as his mates yelled, “Traitor!”
Trudy glanced around the pub to see Simon giving Gwyn and Adam the lookover from across the room. Trudy had to admit Adam was extremely fit and a very decent bloke. He seemed to dote on Gwynny. Too bad he was enlisted. Gwyn didn’t pay Simon the slightest bit of attention. Just snuggled up to her gunnery sergeant long enough for Simon to get an eyeful before her boss saw them. The look on Simon’s face was priceless.
Serves you right, you rat bastard.
Trudy’s drink arrived. “Nick told us how your group got their nickname, so I’d like to propose a toast.” She raised her glass in the air. “To the Highwaymen. May your beers always be wet and your clothes always be dry.”
They lifted their drinks and toasted the Highwaymen, the Royal Navy, the U.S. Navy, each other’s ships, and finally the Queen herself. Adam excused himself from the table to buy more beer. It was only moments before trouble—by the name of Bruce McLeod and his mates—walked through the door. He made a beeline for Trudy.
“Hullo, Maizie.” Then he turned to the Yank and grinned his combat grin. “Hullo, Nanny. We meet again. Isn’t this lovely?”
God bless the Yank. He pushed back his chair and stood. “Give it a rest, Bruiser. This time, it’s not just me.” He indicated Mike, who also stood. Both of them were giants. “You’ve got the Nikolopoulos brothers to deal with tonight.” Then Philip showed solidarity and he had to be at least six-foot-two. Where were all these tall men when Trudy had been looking? Oh, that’s right. Everything was bigger in America.
Sky wasn’t quite as tall when he stood—probably bang-on six feet, which would have worked for her over the years—but he was rock solid. He stuck his nose in the air, sniffed, and grinned. “Do I smell a bar fight?”
Philip muttered, “Give it a rest, Sky.”
Nick continued with introductions. “And we have our alpha-male-wingmen, Philip Johnston and former Navy linebacker, Sky Crawford, on our team as well, Bruce. So let us know if you want to take this outside. If not, we’d appreciate if you’d move your little Junglie party elsewhere.”
Aw, the Yank was brilliant all over again, facing up to Bruce like that, especially with his mates rubbing their hands together.
But Bruce wasn’t as pissed as he’d been the last time. “Don’t want any trouble, Nanny. Just want to chat with Trudy for a moment.” He turned to her. “Can we nip outside and have a word?”
Trudy remained seated, sipping her drink and showing disinterest in her ex. “Not on your life, Bruiser.”
Bruce’s mates tried to take his arm, but he shook them off, looking more agitated by the minute. “I just want to talk to her,” he said to them.
And that’s when Gwyn’s bootneck returned from the bar and outdid everyone. Gunnery Sergeant Muscles got right up in the Junglie’s face. Trudy was certain he was going to challenge him. But Adam recognized him as a fellow Marine, so instead of using his hand to knock the stuffing out of the Junglie, Adam offered it to introduce himself.
“Adam Connor, United States Marine Corps.” He took the wind right out of Bruiser’s sails.
Bruce appeared momentarily stunned before his threat level dropped to yellow. He broke into a good-natured smile and extended his own hand. “Bruce McLeod, Royal Marines.”
Adam put his arm across Bruiser’s shoulder and turned him toward the bar. “Come on, bootneck, how about you let this leatherneck buy you a beer?”
“Naw, mate, you’re in my country. I’ll do the buying.” He threw Trudy a smile and walked to the bar with the American. His entourage of Junglies followed.
Adam glanced back at the group and winked at them. Gwyn waved, then turned to Philip, who blew out a sigh of relief. “Maybe our fitness trainer needs a transfer to the U.N.,” she said.
* * *
“You sure I can’t talk you blokes into a couple of pints under the motorway?” Trudy asked. Everyone at the table laughed. “Well, then you chaps have a good catch-up. I’ll see you at the game tomorrow when we kick your Yankee arses. I’m heading out.” She rose to leave.
No freaking way was Nick letting Trudy go by herself. Even though Bruce and his mates had left with Adam and Gwyn over an hour ago, Nick was not allowing Trudy to walk to the ship alone. “No, Trudy, let me take you back. Remember what happened last time?”
The guys at the table exchanged glances, wondering what had happened last time, but he didn’t care. No way was she walking the pier alone—not with American sailors and Marines in port. He turned her away from the table. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
He was glad the pub was loud when she replied, “Are you sure you don’t want another snog in the alley, Yank?”
He checked to see if the guys had been listening. They were watching, but they didn’t appear to have overheard, because he would have known if they had. Even if they didn’t know what a snog was—they would have guessed. Sky would have been Googling the term on his phone. “No, I care about you. I need you to be safe.”
“I’ll be fine, Yank. Go visit with your mates.”
Suddenly his brother sidled up to them, smiling. “You stay, Nick. I’ll walk Trudy back to her ship.”
“Sit down, Mikey! She’s mine!” Had Nick just yelled that? “I mean, she’s my responsibility. Go away.”
Nick moved Trudy closer to the door, knowing he was totally busted where his friends were concerned. “I can’t let you walk down the pier alone looking like that.”
Trudy crossed her arms and raised an amused eyebrow. “Like what, Yank?”
He waved his index fingers up and down her torso and around her hair. “That.”
Trudy smiled sheepishly. “Do I look fit? Sexy? Scrumptious?”
“Yeah. And that’s exactly why you can’t walk to the ship by yourself. What if Bruce accosts you again?”
“What if he doesn’t? Will you do the job? Again?”
Doc had apparently sized up the situation and appeared at their side. “Come on, Tru, I’ll walk you back.”
Nick watched them leave, then reluctantly returned to the table—and his friends’ suppressed grins. He pointed his finger and warned them. “Don’t say one fucking word.”
They tried to bite back their smiles, but failed. “She’s mine?” Sky said. “Um, bro, you got something to share with us?”
Philip chimed in. “Yeah, how ’bout we start with ‘she’s not quite a double bagger?’”
Nick sat down and rested his head in his hands, shook it a few times. Sighed.
Mikey’s turn. “Oh, man. That hair! Can you imagine—?”
“No, dude. Those lips,” Sky said. “Why, you could hang your hat on—”
“Shut up!” Nick barked.
But Sky ignored the order. “Hey, Nick. Do those lips swell up even more when you kiss ’em?”
Nick massaged his temples, his eyes squeezed shut.
Mike’s turn again. “Oh, I’d settle for her hair draped all over my—”
“Shut up, Mikey!” Nick threw back his head in defeat and blew out a long, deep breath.
Now it was Philip, the soother’s, turn. “Oh, Nick, you got it bad. Tell me. Which is kicking your guilt-o-meter the most? The fact you’re her boss or you’re on the rebound, supposedly on the wagon where women are concerned?”
“Aw, hell,” Nick said. He shook his head and muttered, “All of the above.”
Sky turned to Mike. “If I hadn’t met Daisy, I would have walked Trudy home just to see how those lips work.”
Nick pointed his index finger in Sky’s face. “Don’t you dare think about Trudy’s lips.”
Sky beamed. “Why, Nick? Because they’re yours?”
Everybody but Nick laughed.
Mike jumped in. “I bet when she’s naked, she looks like Lady Godiva with all that hair.”
Nick shut his eyes and shook his head. “No. No. No. No. No.”
Sky turned to Philip. “I’m glad to see Nicky found a tall one. That would make them perfect in bed.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You know, a little ‘Amazon love?’ What do you think?”
Philip set down his beer glass. “He’d be nuts not to go for that.”
Nick threw in a crumb of defense. “Don’t forget, daughter of a high commissioner?”
Sky snorted. “Who cares? You’re not going to bed with daddy.”
“I haven’t gone to bed with Trudy.”
“Yet,” Sky added for clarification.
“Then what does ‘She’s mine’ mean?” Mikey asked.
“I meant, I’d take care of the situation,” Nick replied through gritted teeth.
Mike laughed. “Good. So if she’s not yours, then I’m free to ask her out while we’re here.”
“No!”
“Ah, I see,” his brother replied. “Because she really is yours.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. Could we please talk about something else?” Nick begged.
“I’ll vote for that. ’Cuz, I got some good news to share.” Sky’s face lit up. “I’m gonna be a daddy.”
While the others whooped and high-fived Sky, Nick stashed away his envy and tried his best to be a good friend. He’d been in Sky’s and Daisy’s wedding, which had hurt like a son of a bitch after breaking things off with Brooke. Sky’s news tonight rubbed more salt in Nick’s wound. He wanted to get up and walk out of the pub, but this was his wingman’s celebration. So he turned to Sky and said, “Congratulations, man. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks. It’s still a little early, but Daisy said I could tell you since who knows when we’ll all be together again.” Sky indicated Philip and Nick, and in his best Don Corleone voice, said, “So I’m looking for a couple of godfathers. And I want it to be youse guys. Sorry, Mikey, but I only get two and when you’ve drunk the best tasting beers in life hunkered down with shipmates in wet, wool uniforms, nothing can compare to that kind of camaraderie.”
Philip raised his glass. “Here’s to Baby Skylark.” They all raised their beers, although Nick’s cheer was half-hearted.
Philip put his glass down and smiled. “Yup, we’re growing up, fellas. Remember when we were greenhorn, bald-headed Plebes? Who would have imagined us married with kids? Especially the Skylark?”
Nick was dying inside. Eight years with Brooke and he couldn’t even get her to set a wedding date.
Sky could not stop grinning. “I hope Philip’s gonna give me lessons on Diaper Changing 101 and Advanced Baby Burping.”
They laughed, but it died down quickly. Nick stopped drawing lines in the condensation on his beer mug and looked up to find all eyes on him. “What?”
Sky’s smile was gone. “Sorry about this whole marriage and family thing, Nick, but now you know how we felt when you had a steady girlfriend all those years.”
“Not you, Sky. You loved playing the field.”
“That I did. So let me remind you there’s plenty more fish in the sea.”
Nick went back to the fascination with his beer glass. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Hey, Nick, I’m doing my best to tiptoe around this, but you’re gonna have to suck it up eventually,” Sky said.
Nick turned and glared at him, his heart hammering, his breathing restricted.
Philip set down his glass. He reached over and touched Nick’s forearm. “Look, Nick, Sky’s right. It’s like we can’t say anything without pissing you off lately. I mean, you and Brooke were on again, off again for eight years. But you were never apart this long. What happened?”
Nick pulled out his wallet and dropped some notes on the table. “Look, don’t let me spoil your little celebration. I’m happy for both of you. Why don’t you keep on telling your stories about your wives and families, but don’t tell them around me, okay? I gotta run.”
But he didn’t move. He just sat there, staring at his beer mug. He loved his friends. He needed his friends. But all their happy news was breaking his heart all over again.
“What did Brooke do to you?” his brother asked quietly.
Nick thought about standing up and leaving but he was frozen to his seat. Silence ruled the table. Pub noises abounded: the conversation from the next table, glasses clinking together in the sink, the high-pitched laughter of a woman across the room.
But Nick’s brothers-in-arms remained quiet. Waiting.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Nick repeated. But he did want to talk about it. He wanted to scream about it, but he couldn’t. It was his own private, painful hell. No reason to drag anyone else into it.
He sensed the others glancing around the table at each other. He could cut the tension with a knife.
And Sky—as usual—couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. “Come on, Nick, we’ve been walking on eggshells around you since last fall. I’m sorry Brooke cheated on you, but you gotta move on, man.”
Nick glared at him. “She didn’t cheat on me, Sky.” He paused. Chose his words carefully, then mumbled them. “But she betrayed me just the same.” Nick picked up his beer, sipped tentatively. Looked off disgustedly toward the bar. Anywhere but in his buddies’ eyes.
As always, Sky did not know when to stop. “How could she betray you if she wasn’t doing the nasty with some other guy?”
Nick slammed down his beer mug, grabbed Sky’s shirtfront, and yelled in his face, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”
Everyone at the table froze, eyes wide at his outburst.
Deflated, Nick pushed Sky away and collapsed back into his seat, defeated. “She had an abortion without even telling me she was pregnant.”