Page 62 of Keeping a Warrior

“Hey. What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you didn’t get my text?” A look of anxiety crossed his face. “I thought we could ride over together.”

Devon picked up her phone and saw the text.

Ride with me? I promise you a proper good-night.

His cheeks turned pink when she chuckled. “I gladly accept.”

She excused herself to the bedroom to get her handbag, into which she slipped a small penknife. Spraying on one last spritz of perfume, Devon was ready.

They walked in silence to Rhys’s truck. He unlocked her side first and opened the door for her, the small courtesy making her smile.

The drive to the team bar was short and sweet. The streets were crowded, and Rhys had to park several blocks away. It felt natural to take his arm as they strolled, and Devon hugged his muscular biceps, only letting go when the entrance to the bar came into view.

Rhys put his hand lightly on the small of her back as he steered her toward the door.

The inside of the bar was raucous and loud, with team guys downing shots and beers, playing pool. Their significant others were grouped together, chatting and laughing while they sipped on glasses of wine.

A wave of shyness went through Devon. How would they greet her? Would they view her as a threat? When she’d worked with the transportation battalion, she’d endured a few drunk “Stay away from my husband” messages before their deployments.

The women’s looks were assessing, but friendly enough, and Devon put her shyness firmly aside when a smiling Black woman detached herself from the group and approached her, hand out.

“Hi, I’m Sarah Maddox, Aaron’s wife. You must be Devon?”

Devon gulped. Sarah. Lani’s best friend. Steeling herself, Devon nodded and smiled. “That’s me.”

“Lovely to meet you at last,” Sarah exclaimed. “Aaron’s told me so much about you. Girls!” She beckoned the other women over. “This is Devon, a very brave soul.”

They perched around a table together, the wives peppering Devon with questions about her job, their interest sincere. As they chatted, Devon relaxed in increments. No one seemed threatened by her, no one looked at her with dislike or suspicion, even Sarah, who had reason to, thanks to her husband and his damn pictures.

Devon studied her. Her hair was a mass of curls, her brown skin flawless, figure full and curvy. She was also warm, open and friendly.

As the wine flowed, the conversation grew more bawdy, turning to a recent sex toy party that’d been hosted by Savannah, a petite blonde married to one of the younger team guys.

“Battery-operated boyfriends for the win,” she declared. “Or else it’d be a long four months for us, ladies.”

“No shit. I’ve been wearing his ass out the last couple of days. He even begged for mercy last night!”

“Oh, how about I send you a care package, Devon,” Savannah said wickedly at one point. “What size would you like? Or how about a clit tickler or G-spot massager? What’s your fave?”

“Oh, G-spot massager for sure.”

The group hooted in approval.

Devon had forgotten how nice it was to spend time in the company of other women. She told them about the challenges of Spartan desert living, while they regaled her with stories of ER visits, pregnancies and births handled alone with their men out of touch, out of reach. They talked about loneliness, and temptation, and the marriages that hadn’t made it.

It was raw, it was real, and it was exactly what Devon needed.

“Oh, hello.” Sarah straightened, her eyes fixed on the front door. “Hottie alert.”

The women all looked in that direction, and immediately eyes widened and mouths went slack.

Devon chuckled. “Must be Shane.” Her back was to the door, but by their reactions, who else could it be?

“That dude is too gorgeous to be real. Is that his boyfriend?”

At those words, Devon spun around in her chair. Had he and Matt somehow worked things out during the afternoon?