I dug my cell phone out of my purse, but I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t like social media. If I could call anyone, it would be Art to find out how the meeting went with Deek.
He was going to be furious I left. It was okay. I wasn’t his to control and make demands of. Try telling him that, though.
I set my phone on the table and strolled over to the jukebox. The Soldiers were good ol’ country boys. Down-home music was all they had on the list. I scrolled through it to find a song that might take my mind off Art and me. I punched in the number and let the rhythm carry me away.
I swung my hips and shimmied my shoulders in front of the jukebox. It was lovely to have the place to myself. I didn’t have to be “on” for anyone. I could be sad or angry because nobody would question me in the Soldier’s clubhouse. These guys had been to hell and back and didn’t give a shit about trivial shit like me agonizing over a younger man. It wasn’t a life or death situation, though it felt like it.
The Soldiers experienced firsthand the fragility of life and relationships. They’d killed people and had seen their military brothers killed. War had fucked them up.
Turner, the president, had suffered a broken heart after his wife cheated while he was deployed. She had moved out of their home, taking all their possessions with her. When Turner had returned, there was nothing left of his former life. He naturally had a massive chip on his shoulder and didn’t trust women. He wouldn’t even allow sweet butts into the club. If any of the guys wanted some action, they needed to find it elsewhere.
Lost in the twangy music, I was startled when someone gripped my waist.
I spun around and placed my hands on Jack’s chest. “You were faster than I expected.”
“Didn’t you say that to me once when we were in bed?” He leaned toward me as if about to kiss me. “I want you, Sugar.”
“No. You’re not getting me.” Persistent bugger.
He took my hand and led me back to the table where two takeout boxes were on it. I inhaled the heavenly scent and took my seat.
“We’d be good together, you know.” He opened his box and removed a pulled pork sandwich.
“I don’t agree.” I held a kosher pickle to my lips and bit it.
“You really love him then?”
I nodded, chewing my food.
“Does he know it?” He took a large bite. Sauce dripped down his chin. I’d wipe it for him, but it might give him hope I’d come around.
Not possible.
“Here.” I passed him a napkin. “I think he knows I care about him, but I’ve never told him I love him.”
“Probably for the best.”
I popped a kettle chip into my mouth. “Why is it for the best?” I was curious about his reasoning. It might help me to come to terms with the inevitable.
“Because it’ll never work out. I don’t want you giving the words to anyone but me.”
Coming to Iowa was definitely a mistake. This guy was relentless just as much, if not more, than when I’d broken it off with him a year ago. At the time, I’d needed Jack. He was a remarkable man, a Marine whose career had ended when he lost part of his leg fighting the war in Afghanistan.
Fucking IED.
Even with the part of his leg from below his knee missing, he’d shown me a good time. The man had strong arms, a muscular chest, and lots of sex appeal.
Jack had also been a safe fuck with no expectations.
Maybe I shouldn’t have ended things with him. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Art…
“I want you to stay.” Jack’s lustful voice made me shiver and my skin prickle as I paced in his room. “I’ll claim you.”
He was out of his ever-loving mind. Claim me? No man would ever claim me again.
“You can’t be serious?” I eyed Jack’s tongue as he licked his lips. The action was sexy, but he shouldn’t try to tempt me. My mind was made up. I was ending our arrangement. But I couldn’t ignore how attractive he was sprawled out in his bed, his black sheet barely covering his cock.
“I’m absolutely serious.”