Page 6 of Loving a Warrior

“Hooyah,” Shane rasped, wiping his hand across his glistening forehead and leaving a smear of blood behind. “Thank you.”

He started to walk away but paused when Salazar said gruffly, “You showed good spirit, man. Nice work.”

If Matt hadn’t been looking right at him, he might’ve missed the glimmer of pure satisfaction that flickered across Shane’s face for just an instant before it was replaced once again by impassivity.

And in that moment, Matt figured out exactly what was going on.

Pretty boy, Ken doll, dumb blond. Shane’d probably heard that shit all his life, the sneering assumption that beauty automatically equaled lack of intelligence. In a warrior culture like the Marines, he’d probably had to spend a lot of time proving himself in order to be taken seriously.

He’d want to head that off at the pass here, so Shane had deliberately provoked the instructors, then showed them he could take anything they dished out. The end result was he’d earned their cautious respect before BUD/S had even officially started.

Matt could only shake his head in grudging admiration. This dude was smart as hell.

“Nice running into you again.”

Matt had been so lost in thought he was totally unaware that Shane had gotten his water and was now standing a few feet away, staring at him.

Clingy running shorts popped into Matt’s mind, and he cleared his throat, grunting, “Yeah. Hey.”

“Saw you this morning at the class meeting.” Shane’s voice was hoarse and scratchy from exertion.

“Didn’t see you. Sorry.”

“Knew I’d bump into you again sooner or later,” Shane went on. “Not quite as literally, maybe, but…” He grinned, and even though his face was streaked with dirt and blood, Matt’s knees went weak at the sight.

“How do you figure?” he managed.

“Duh. Because you were out running in boots and utes. Who else could you be but a BUD/S candidate?”

Right. Nobody but a wannabe SEAL would be out jogging in boots and utilities.

“Yeah, well…” Matt mumbled, feeling idiotic and tongue-tied.

Shane tilted his head back to take a long drink of water, lips wrapped around the tip of the bottle, his throat working as he swallowed…

God-fucking-dammit! Matt’s face was hot as fire. Stop this. He’s married. He’s straight. He’s a potential teammate. He’s one hundred percent off-limits to even casual fantasies, jackass!

“Hovland! Join us!” Salazar beckoned impatiently from where he was standing next to the group who’d failed the inspection. “Break time’s over.”

“Well, at least he didn’t call me ‘Ken.’” Shane tossed his empty water bottle into a nearby recycling bin and started to head that direction. “See ya around.”

“It pays to be a winner.” Toshi suddenly appeared in front of Matt and the others who’d passed. “The goon squad’s going for a five-mile soft-sand conditioning run. You’re dismissed for the day. Enjoy your last few hours of freedom, gents.” He strode off.

“Fuck yeah.” Elias punched Matt on the shoulder. “We get to go take hot showers and jerk off. They get to go runnin’.” He cupped one hand next to his mouth and yelled in a stage whisper, “Have fun, boys!”

Matt grinned back at Elias, but as he watched Shane take his place at the back of the pack, for one stupid instant he couldn’t help but wish he’d been a loser, too.

* * *

Four-thirty in the morning was really fuckin’ cold.

Shane unlatched the gate to the chain-link fence and pulled it open. None of his fellow volunteers appeared to be there yet, but the harsh yellow pool lights were already on. He took a deep breath of the salty predawn air, trying to calm his jangling nerves.

“You ready for this?” he muttered under his breath. “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?”

It was a question he’d asked himself more than once these past few years.

“Recruit Hovland!”