Man of Honor (Battle Scars) Read Free

the source of the giggle. Rolling my eyes, I start back on my path.
    But something catches my eye and my steps stutter, then freeze.
    The blond chick has large, spectacular, and most likely fake, breasts. They’re currently squished up against a solid brick wall of a man. First my eyes follow the veins in his muscular forearms, exposed by the white collared shirt he’s wearing, sleeves rolled up. Then my gaze wanders to the open collar, where the thick, winding lines of ink swirl up toward his neck. And that neck…muscular and thick, just like the rest of his perfectly sculpted body.
    A body I know very, very well.
    Lastly, my eyes land on a face that simultaneously makes my blood boil and my toes curl. Olive skin, mostly smooth except for the scar near his left temple. Short brown hair so dark it’s nearly raven. Square chin, covered in perfectly rough scruff. Straight nose with a slight rise in the top. Deep-set eyes the color of the warmest caramel.
    Perfect male beauty. Rough and deep and dark. There’s so much story behind those eyes that I never learned. Eyes that are currently, hazily focused on the tits rubbing against his muscled arm.
    Goddammit.
    Drake Sullivan.
    It’s not like I never run into him. I see him quite often actually, because my best friend and his are getting married in two months. We cross paths because we have to, not because I want to.
    My past with Drake? It’s complicated. When a man gives you the best one-night stand of your life and you ruin everything by running out on him and never speaking to him about it again, things are bound to get tricky. Every time I see him, a slow burn of attraction sizzles just beneath the surface, and I do everything I can to pretend it isn’t so.
    Because I’m not in the market for a boyfriend. It’s the last thing I need in my life.
    It’s not like I didn’t know that See Food is his favorite hangout. He only lives right down the beach, for Pete’s sake. I just wasn’t expecting to see him now. And certainly not with that slut pressed against him like white on rice.
    Dammit. I don’t want seeing him with another woman to affect me like this. I don’t want it to affect me at all!
    My heartbeat thumps wildly in my chest as I watch him. I want so badly to tear my eyes away, but I just can’t. He’s clearly tanked. His eyes are glassy, and he’s tilting slightly sideways on his stool. Which is completely at odds with everything I know about Drake. He’s always calm, cool, and collected. He’s always in control.
    The dude is a freaking ex-army Ranger. He’s someone others can depend on.
    Well, most others.
    Suddenly, Lenny’s face is directly in front of me, replacing my view of Drake and the Blonde Bombshell.
    “Um, hello…Mea? What the hell is wrong with you, girl? You’re about to drop that tray!” Her voice is more concerned than angry, and that’s just so typically Lenny that a lump suddenly forms in my throat.
    Horrified at the thought that I might actually cry for no reason and in front of anyone else, I blink rapidly and swallow hard.
    “Oh, uh…right. I’m on my way to table twenty-three with these. Just…sorry.”
    “I’ve gotta run to the office for a minute.” Her last sentence pulls me back around to face her. “After you drop that off, can you hang behind the bar for a few until I get back?”
    Slowly nodding my agreement, I turn on my heel, and doing everything I can to avoid dropping the tray of not-quite-hot food, I scurry in the opposite direction of the bar. I drop off the food at my table and then take a second to gather myself.
    This is where I work. I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let the sight of Drake Sullivan and some flavor-of-the-week stop me from helping Lenny when she needs it.
    They both glance up as my rag swirls the bar top in front of them. “Everything okay here?”
    Drake’s bleary gaze meets mine, and then his eyes widen in surprise. “Mea? What…what are you doing here?”
    I prop my