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I scrubbed a hand over my face, desperately trying to erase Holly’s image from my mind. It hurt way too damn much to think about her.
“What’s wrong?” Peyton cooed, stroking her fingers through my hair. It’d grown long over the past couple of weeks. I wasn’t on active duty anymore. Why should I give a fuck if it wasn’t regulation? I hadn’t shaved either. I looked like a damn lumberjack. Especially compared to the clean cut, white collar men that sat around most of the tables inside the pub.
“Headache?” she continued, still stroking my hair.
I rubbed my face once more and then planted my palm on the top of the bar. “Tired. Beer’s catching up with me, I guess.”
Peyton giggled and plunked down on the stool beside me. “You are an old man.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Truth was, I felt like it. Haggard. Stiff and not in the way she wanted.
I glanced over at her as she shimmied her shoulders to the beat of the music pulsing through the bar. Her hair was thin and fine. I bet it felt like silk. She’d changed out of her slacks and button-up top into a flowing dress with straps that fell off her shoulders as she danced in her seat. Her skin was golden tanned. She was a self-confessed nudist and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind every inch of her tan had been earned running around some meadow, not a stitch on her. She wanted to take me to a nude beach whenever we flew a charter together and ended up in Italy or France. She knew all the spots. Could ramble them off like some sort of clothing optional tour guide.
“What’s really bothering you, Jack?” she asked, suddenly serious.
The bartender placed a fresh pint in front of me and I slipped a handful of bills over the smooth, polished wood bar top, not caring if the tip was way too high. I took a sip and then set it aside. “I’m an old man, remember? I’m supposed to be grumpy.”
Peyton laughed. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret…” She leaned in close, the neckline of her dress dipping low enough to show off her lacy bra top. It was sheer and before I dragged my eyes away, I noticed her pert little nipples poking through. When I met her eyes, her smile deepened. She caught me. Her pupils were dark and so large they obliterated the dark blue irises. “I prefer old men. They know all the good tricks.”
Heat rushed over my skin. It would be so easy. The perfect distraction. One more beer and I’d be taking her back to my hotel, fucking her until I couldn’t think straight anymore. Maybe then I’d be able to sleep through the whole damn night…for once.
My eyes shifted between her sultry smile and the fresh pint on the bar. If I downed it, I’d be done. Hers. At least for one night.
The thought soured my stomach. I didn’t want to be hers. Not even for an hour.
“I can’t.” I pushed back, putting space between us, and then heaved up from my stool. Peyton’s beautiful lips fell from the smile she’d given me and turned down into a pout. “I’m sorry.”
Without giving her room to make another plea for my attention, I turned and stalked out of the bar. She didn’t call for me and when I hit the door, I craned around and saw a dark Englishman in a sharp suit had already taken my place. Peyton laughed at something he whispered in her ear and didn’t even glance at me as I threw the door open and moved out into the street.
“How’s London?”
“Just dandy,” I growled, pacing over to the large picture window in my hotel room. The city lights were beautiful and haunting at the same time. As I scanned the streets, watching people leaving or entering pubs or wandering the streets on their way to the fancy restaurants and shopping boutiques, my heart tightened.
Holly would love it here.
I threw the curtains closed at the thought and stalked back to the wet bar. I poured a bourbon, not caring that it was way too much and would probably add $100 to my hotel bill when I checked out the following day.
“Boomer, man, what’s going on? You okay?”
I threw back a gulp of bourbon, loving and hating the burn. “Have you seen her?”
Aaron fell silent.
I glared at the phone that I’d set to speakerphone on the small, circular table. “Have you seen her?”
“Yes.”
Fire ripped through me. Quickly followed by the wave of sadness that I couldn’t shake. Regardless of how much I drank. I snapped the phone up, switched it to private, and pressed it to my ear. “Where? When?”
“Boomer…” Aaron sounded tired. It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon back in California. Which meant that I was the reason for his exhausted tone of voice.
