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Chapter Twenty-Three
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“Margarita for your thoughts?”
The question, coming at her in alpha male stereo, startled Tracy enough to lurch up from the sand. Not that she missed the spot. She’d shed so many tears, the ground was becoming mud beneath her. As she shook more sand out of her dress, she nervously eyed the pair who’d come bearing a tumbler full of liquid gold comfort.
Tait Bommer and Kellan Rush were both nearly as tall as Franz, with muscles on top of their muscles—okay, there was a trend here and she should’ve been used to it—but unlike the other guys she’d met from the battalion, this pair was different. They were like Kaua’i itself. Edging on untamed. Breathtakingly beautiful. Unapologetically sensual. No wonder Lani Kail decided she’d take them both instead of choosing.
Lani wasn’t here now, having to leave the base to pick up her little brother from wrestling practice, but her timing two hours earlier had been tragically perfect. As John had returned to the cottage, she’d been stepping out—just in time to watch Tracy lose it for the first time. As the shock wore into confusion and the amazement became anguish, Lani’s shoulder became the safe haven for all her unhindered tears—and unending remorse.
Why the hell had she let him walk away?
Why the hell hadn’t she confessed her truth too?
Told him how completely she’d fallen in love with him in return?
Fresh tears welled along with the glaring answer to that.
She was going to be taking over the Oval Office soon.
As a single female.
After coming back from the dead.
After tossing the head of her Secret Service detail into prison.
No way would the American public, let alone the supporters she was going to need on the Hill and in the stock markets, be able to deal with a surprise fiancé on top of all that. And no way in hell could he stand by her side as anything but a fiancé.
No. That wasn’t it.
She wanted him as her fiancé. Oh God, she did. With every desire in her heart and thread of her soul. How she craved his smile every morning and his kisses every night. How she yearned for his wisdom about leading men and his insight about taming her. How she longed for his strength on the air she breathed, and his passion in the breaths he stole…
She was so screwed.
So yeah, she’d take the damn margarita.
Two seconds after accepting the tumbler, she chugged the drink like it was lemonade in July.
Whoa. Not lemonade.
After her vision cleared and her throat wasn’t on fire anymore, she narrowed a watery glare at the boys. “Damn. You might as well have brought the salt and lime to finish that one off.”
“He mixed it.” They quipped it in unison, each pointing a finger at the other.
Tracy smiled. A little. Gingerly took another sip. “Well, I’ll give you both the credit. And, in gratitude for the beginning of this buzz, a free tour of the White House.”
“Score.” Kellan fist-bumped the air.
Tait rocked back on his heels, sending her a sideways smirk. “Well, ma’am, you’re all right.”
She eyed him over the rim of her glass. “You’re all right too. But call me ‘ma’am’ again, and I’ll take up the issue with body parts you don’t want me messing with.”
Kellan lurched forward, almost spewing a mouthful of the water he’d just chugged. “Bam. And T-Bomb’s owned by the tigress.”
Tait glowered. “Douche nozzle.”
Kellan returned the jibe with a smirk and a middle finger, though hunched his shoulders with bashful guilt when realizing Tracy had caught every second of it. If her heart was more capable, she would’ve laughed again. Boys would be boys in so many ways. Some things never changed.
