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“No, no, I wouldn’t miss that. I mean dinner. I’m out,” Sean said.
“No way, Riddick.” Billy frowned at him. “I already told Shayna you’d be there.”
He shrugged. “I’m shit for company right now.”
“We’re all shit for company sometimes, son,” Mo said, rising from the far end of the bench. “You’ll fit right in just like always.”
Dani’s flinch played before his mind’s eye again, and Sean had no idea if he could even stomach food right now. Because hurting her was only the most recent time in his life that he’d fucked up and gotten someone hurt.
Mo stepped right in front of him. “Besides, if you don’t come, I’m gonna be fucking outnumbered. It’ll just be me and all these lovebirds over here with their better halves”—he thumbed toward Noah, Billy, and Jesse.
“Dani and Jayne are coming, too, Mo,” Billy said, smirking. “So you can hang with the ladies if our PDAs get to be too much.” Everyone chuckled.
I’m no fucking lady.
The memory almost made Sean smile. Because Daniela England was many things, but a proper lady she was not. And that was no knock on her. Because Dani was part angel and part fuckin’ warrior. A nurse who’d flown into combat zones on helicopters routinely targeted by enemy antiaircraft fire. And now an ER nurse in one of DC’s busiest hospitals. Still getting up and going every day, and doing real good in the world, all despite losing her husband.
Daniela England might’ve been a stubborn, sharp-tongued ball-buster who somehow knew how to push every one of his buttons, but he couldn’t deny that she was also a badass. Who he’d still managed to hurt.
And since she’d been pissed at the end of their drill, no doubt she’d prefer he wasn’t at dinner. Which, fine. All things considered, he wasn’t up for more of her digs at him tonight anyway. She always seemed to know how to crawl under his skin, and he was already raw enough as it was.
Sean rose and clapped Mo on the arm. “The ladies are all yours, big guy.” He grabbed his helmet from his locker and shut the door with a resounding metallic clank.
“Shit, Riddick, you’re really not coming?” Billy asked.
“Nah. Another time, man.” They all left the locker room, and found Dani, Tara, and Jayne waiting by the doors.
“About time, ladies,” Dani called. The fuckin’ ball-buster. It almost made him smile.
“How the heck did we get ready faster than you?” Tara asked with wide eyes. “Again.”
Some good-natured ribbing got flung back and forth, but Dani was all Sean knew in that moment. At first, he had to look at her to make sure she was okay. And, truth be told, she seemed completely fine. But close on the heels of that observation was taking note for the millionth time of how fuckin’ gorgeous she was, dressed casually now in a pair of skinny dark-wash jeans and a royal blue shirt that set off her flashing black eyes and silky black hair, down from the braid she’d worn earlier.
Before Daniela, he’d never known a woman that both drove him up a wall and to his fuckin’ knees. Now, he routinely struggled between wanting to take that smart mouth down a notch or two or kiss the sarcasm out of her. For starters.
None of which was helped by remembering just how damn good they’d been together, even though that one time had been in his truck. He’d playfully grabbed her when she’d punched him and their bodies had collided, and then it’d been like they’d both let themselves off of some kind of leash. Need had roared through him, and he’d kissed her. And he’d never been kissed back more enthusiastically in his entire goddamn life. Getting inside his truck was all they’d been able to do before hands and mouths had wandered all kinds of interesting places. Places, sometimes in his dreams, he could still taste.
But all of that was their little secret. None of their friends had the slightest idea they’d hooked up, which was just how it should be. Especially since nothing would ever come of it anyway.
Blinking out of the thought, Sean followed as they moved up to the main floor as a group, then exited through the lobby with its case of trophies and medals and the industrial-looking registration desk. The warmth of the summer night air, heavy with mugginess from the frequent rain lately, surrounded them as they spilled out in front of Full Contact in the heart of DC’s U Street neighborhood.
“So, the Moroccan place over in Adams Morgan? Is that what we decided?” Noah asked, his cell to his ear. Words of agreement rose up from the group as everyone headed in the direction of their cars.
“I’ll see you all later,” Sean called out, giving a wave.
“Wait, you’re not coming?” Dani stepped back up on the sidewalk.
