Owen’s throat tightened. Memories clawed at him, reaching out from the midnight darkness threatening to drag him down. Why did people think he’d want to talk about the worst experience of his life?
His brain short circuited the harder he pressed to find the words to respond without saying anything. Resisting the urge to press his fingers against his throbbing temples, he instead lifted his beer bottle and took a long drink. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he felt himself splintering.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Carly said in a high-pitched, overly feminine, displeased tone that cut through the shadows spreading in his head. When she appeared beside him, Owen stared at her in relief. “If Owen starts telling deployment stories, who knows what that’ll lead to.” She playfully swatted Caleb’s arm and pouted. Carly pout? What was she up to? Then it hit him. She was running interference for him.
“I know what’ll come next.” Kelli crossed her arms over her chest. “They’ll be clustered together swapping stories, ignoring us.”
“She’s right,” Melissa agreed.
“We’re here to have fun and sharing war stories, talking strategies, and about old generals doesn’t come under that heading in my book,” Carly said.
“Next thing you’ll be telling us we can’t talk sports,” Cal grumbled.
“That’s fine,” Carly said.
The band around Owen’s head loosened as he stared at Carly, amazed at how easily she’d changed the subject and gotten him off the hook.
Thanks to Carly, the topic stayed away from his service, and a while later, the women held a slight edge.
“Carly, your turn,” Melissa said. “Now go up there and add to our lead.”
Kelli turned to her husband and grinned. “I’m so looking forward to not cooking this week.”
“Watch out. We’re fixin’ to mount a comeback,” Brayden countered.
“You need to do something,” Caleb whispered to Owen.
“Why me?”
“You brought the ringer.” Caleb hooked a thumb toward Carly.
Not about to be the cause of his friends losing and his competitive spirit kicking in, he waited for Carly to begin her approach. “Nice form, Maddux!”
She stumbled and slid over the foul line. When the buzzer sounded, she spun around, hands on her hips, her cheeks flaming his favorite shade of pink color as she tapped her foot in irritation. “Is that where we’re going? Stooping to distraction to win?”
“That wasn’t fair,” Kelli added.
“All’s fair in love, war, and bowling,” Caleb said.
“No one says that,” Melissa said.
“Ladies, they can try all the distractions they want.” Confidence in her stride, determination in her gaze, Carly stalked toward Owen, appearing tough enough to meet any challenge head-on, and sexy as hell. Stopping a few inches from him, as his grandma Goldie used to say, she was about to fix his wagon.
“That ball had more hook than a crocheting club,” Owen teased.
Placing her hands on his chair arms, she leaned forward. Her warm breath fanned his skin. His breathing sped up. The crack of pins and the babble of voices faded. If he moved at all, he could cover her angry, pouty lips with his.
“Try whatever you want. It won’t work,” she said.
Her herbal scent teased his senses. He inhaled deeply, trying to get his fill. “I had to try. The guys blame me for bringing a ringer. If we lose they might jump me in the parking lot. You available to be my bodyguard?”
She tossed him a saucy grin and nodded toward his teammates. “They don’t look the beat-you-up type. Their style is to stick you with the bar bill.”
“Great idea, Carly,” Caleb said.
“And the nachos I’m fixin’ to order,” Brayden added.
Owen groaned. “There goes my savings.”
