Jo Leigh - The Navy Seal's Rescue

At this point she wasn’t sure she remembered. “Tell you what,” she said with a slow smile, “why don’t you surprise me?”

He raised a questioning brow. “You sure?”

“Positive.” His dark good looks accompanied by that sexy rasp in his voice were enough to send a little shiver down her spine. When was the last time that had happened? God, she really hoped Becky was an ex.

“Uh-oh. That sounds too much like a dare,” Ginny said, laughing. “Bring her a margarita. You can surprise her another time.”

Cricket glared at her. “What are you, my mother?”

“I know you, Cricket. We have a function to attend tonight, and you aren’t weaseling out of it. You promised to be my date.”

She knew what Ginny was getting at. Frank Geary, who had more money than brains—or anything else including class—was one person neither of them wanted to see. As luck would have it, he was hosting the welcome reception in a couple of hours and Ginny didn’t want her using the excuse she was sick.

“Cricket? That’s your name?”

“No,” Cricket said and Ginny said, “Yes.”

“Interesting.” He extended his hand. “Wyatt.”

Cricket responded in kind, liking his firm grasp, then felt greedy and petty when he let go to offer his hand to Ginny. It hadn’t even occurred to Cricket that her friend might share an interest in the guy. Although she seemed to have a lot on her mind concerning her daughter. And here Cricket was flirting instead of being the friend Ginny needed.

“Coming right up with those margaritas,” Wyatt said, and turned with a grimace at the high-pitched voice of the kids coming from somewhere in the back.

“Hubba hubba,” Ginny said, the second he was out of earshot.

“Are you interested?”

Ginny frowned. “I meant for you.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nooo...” Ginny shook her head. “I have enough on my plate.”

“Yeah, let’s get back to your custody question. Look, you don’t have to tell me who Tilda’s father is... Or you can. I won’t lie, I’m curious as all get out.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Okay, that helps.” Cricket smiled sheepishly. “Me anyway. But you’re probably wondering if he has any rights.”

“He can’t prove anything without a DNA sample. Do you think the court might compel me to provide one? I mean, he can’t just make demands because we had sex a couple of times.” Ginny worried her bottom lip. “Right?”

Another high-pitched screech cut through the bar noise. It sounded like Josh again.

Standing behind the bar making the drinks, Wyatt just shook his head.

Ginny chuckled. “Aren’t you glad you missed all that?”

Something twisted inside Cricket. “You say that like I’m over the hill. I might still have kids.”

“Really?”

“You never know.” She shrugged, shocked to realize it wasn’t just envy niggling at her. Much worse, longing tugged at her from both sides.

Chapter Four

AFTER KEEPING UP with a steady crowd all evening, Wyatt was ready to sit down with a cold one himself. In between mixing a Long Island Iced Tea and a gin and tonic, he looked over at table seven to see if the preppies were still there. If they were still called preppies. Brand-name clothes, tidy hair and smug laughter spelled prep school at the very least. The short guy wore a designer golf shirt and loud pants. Yep. Reunion attendees, all three of them, products of Roger Williams Preparatory Academy. He’d bet his lucky charm on it, or had he lost that to Bobby last night, too?

Huh. Sounded familiar.

Checking his pocket, he felt the Leatherman tool. Hell, maybe he’d be better off getting rid of it. His life had been anything but lucky in the last few years. Although the fact that he was still alive might be argued as a win, but not by him.

Slamming the brakes on his dark thoughts, he set the finished drinks on Lila’s tray, and took a moment to rub his gritty eyes.

She stopped flirting with the old guy at the end of the bar and swept up her order. “Thanks,” she said, giving him a sexy smile and a toss of her long blond hair. “After I deliver these, you want some help behind the bar?”

He shook his head. “I’m good. Just worry about your tables.”

“I only have three, so I can easily cover the beer tap, too.”

“No thanks.”

Her lips pursed in a pout, a very fetching pout. But no way he was going anywhere near that. Not just because she was an employee. Sexy, persistent Lila was built like a wet dream, but being in the vicinity of twenty-two, she made him feel a hundred years old. Hell, being with anyone that young would just exhaust him.

On the other hand, looking wouldn’t kill him. He watched her curvy hips sway in rhythm with the jukebox music as she made her way around a rowdy group of surfers from Australia.

“Hey, Covack, you up for another game later?”

He turned just as Bobby pulled out a stool and dropped his car keys on the bar. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, Cappelli.”

“What? You don’t honestly think I cheated.” Bobby chuckled. “Come on. Why would I waste the energy?”

Ignoring him, Wyatt wiped down the bar. Arnie was sitting two stools down, crying in his beer over his lousy morning catch. A lot of the older fishermen frequented the bar when there weren’t too many tourists crowding the place.

Arnie glanced up and pushed his empty mug forward.

“You got a ride home tonight?” Wyatt asked him.

The old man nodded. “Left the truck with Thelma.”

Wyatt believed him and poured him a refill. Arnie was one of the more responsible drunks.

“The trouble with you is, you think you’re good at poker,” Cappelli said. “But you stink, and I don’t mind taking your money while you try proving otherwise.”

“Yeah, keep it up. Like I don’t already wanna throw your ass out.”

Grinning, Bobby pulled out a wad of cash, half of which had been in Wyatt’s pocket last night. “Give me a Scotch,” he said, peeling off a twenty. “In fact make it Glenfiddich. I’m feeling flush tonight.”

Wyatt flipped him off.

Cappelli laughed and swiveled around to survey the room. “Dude, you need to do something with this place. It doesn’t just look like it belongs in a trailer park, it would have to be a condemned trailer park.”

Yeah, most of the piñatas were old and faded. He’d been told on more than one occasion the dangling bikini tops were offensive. Maybe. But most of the locals thought they were funny and part of the landmark bar’s signature. “The place has character.”

“Sure, if all you care about is the local crowd.” Cappelli appeared to have caught a back view of Lila leaning over a table and suddenly he had no more opinions to share.

Good.

The newest hire, Shelly, stood at the end of the bar waving an order ticket. Wyatt nodded as he poured the jerk’s Scotch. Not that he’d admit it, but Cappelli had a point. Wyatt had been thinking along those lines as he watched tourists and reunion people float in and out all afternoon. If he wanted to be a serious business owner, better yet, a more profitable one, he had to get his act together.

He should’ve contacted the hotel, or whoever was in charge of the reunion activities, to get a copy of the weekend’s agenda. Figure out how he could attract the prep schoolers during the times they had no organized functions.

If turning a healthy profit was just about him, he wouldn’t give a damn. But he had Becky and the kids to consider. They were the whole reason he’d moved here. To make sure they were safe and had everything they needed. Becky was certainly a smart, competent woman, but it was tough for her to work full-time with two little kids at home. The monthly widow’s benefit she received from the government was decent but could only go so far. Adam’s grandparents lived nearby and helped however they could, but they’d already gotten up in years when they’d raised Adam.