Almost Just Friends Read online

  He shrugged. “Being able to defend yourself is smart.”

  “You know I was just kidding about the pen thing, right?”

  He cocked his head and studied her. “Were you?”

  About the killing Jenna thing, yeah. But not about knowing how to do it with a pen. And yet no one had ever, not once, called her out on that threat as being real.

  “Your dad military?” he asked.

  “Was. He’s gone now.”

  He gave a single nod, his eyes saying he got it at a core level. “I’m sorry.”

  She supposed it was his genuine and clearly understanding reaction that had her doing something she rarely did—saying more, unprompted. “We lived overseas in some seriously sketchy places. He made sure I knew how to defend myself and my siblings.”

  He gave another nod, this one in approval, and it had her taking a second look at him, at the calm, steady gaze that withheld any personal thoughts, at the way he sat at rest, but with a sense of tightly harnessed power. And then there was his build, which suggested he could handle whatever situation arose. “You were military too.”

  He studied her right back for a long beat, assessing. “Still am.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, she arched a brow, waiting for more, but it didn’t come. “Let me guess,” she said. “It’s a secret. If you told me, you’d have to kill me.”

  The very corners of his eyes crinkled. She was either annoying him or amusing him. “I’m actually a DEA agent,” he said. “But also Coast Guard.”

  “How do you do both?”

  “I was active duty for twelve years. Been in the Reserve for two. My DEA job schedule allows for the times I’m in training, activated, or deployed.”

  Man. She thought her parents had lived dangerous lives. This guy had them beat. And considering what had happened to her mom and dad, she decided then and there that she had less than zero interest in him, no matter how curious she might be. Because seriously, where was a hot easygoing surfer when you needed one? “How often does any of that happen? The training, activation, or deployment?”

  “My unit trains three days a month in Virginia. We get activated at will. Deployed less often, but it happens.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal that he put his life on hold at what she assumed was short notice to go off to save the world.

  “The DEA doesn’t mind you leaving at the drop of a hat?”

  “They knew that when they signed me on. I had the skill sets they needed.”

  “And what skill sets are those?”

  He gave her another of those looks, and she smiled. “Right. Now we’re at the ‘you’d tell me, but then you’d have to kill me’ part.”

  With a maybe-amused, maybe-bemused shake of his head, he lifted his drink in her direction. “Happy birthday, Piper.”

  She blew out a sigh. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He gave a very small snort. “You’re really not a fan of birthdays.”

  “No. Or parties.”

  “I’m getting that.” He was looking at her list again, and she put a hand on the journal to prevent him from flipping to the next page, which was even more revealing, and braced herself for the inevitable comment about the getting-laid thing.

  But he surprised her. “It’s way too cold in Alaska,” he said. “If that were my list, I’d be aiming for a South Pacific island.”

  “Preferably deserted?”

  He met her gaze. “Maybe not completely deserted.”

  Her stomach did a weird flutter, and that scared her. She didn’t want to feel stomach flutters, not for this guy. “If you’re flirting with me,” she said slowly, “you should know I’m not interested.”

  “Good thing, then, that I’m not flirting with you.”

  How crazy was it that she felt just the teeniest bit disappointed? Plus, she didn’t know how to respond. Reading social cues was not her strong suit. Feeling awkward, which was nothing new for her, she slid off her barstool and tucked her journal into her rain jacket pocket, surprised to realize they were still surrounded by people, her people, along with music and talking and laughter, and yet . . . for the past few minutes it’d felt like they’d been all alone.

  “You out?” he asked.

  “I think it’s best if I call it a night.”

  He rubbed his jaw again, and the sound his stubble made did something to her insides that she refused to name. “Let me at least buy you a drink for your birthday first.”

  “Thanks, but there’s the storm blowing in.” As she said this, the power flickered but held. “I should keep my wits about me.”

  “Doesn’t have to be alcohol.” He glanced around them at the full, rowdy bar. “Are you a first responder like all your friends?”

  “Yes. I’m an EMT.”

  “Well, I’m the new guy,” he said. “Zero friends. You going to desert me like Jenna deserted you?”

  She actually hesitated at that, until she caught that flash of humor in his eyes. “You’re messing with me.”

  “I am.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to this. It’d been a long time since she’d felt . . . well, anything. Just beyond him, she could see a group of her friends playing pool. CJ, a local cop, was winning. After Jenna, CJ was one of her favorite people. He glanced over at her, caught her eye, and gave her a chin nudge.

  Guy speak for Are you all right?

  She nodded and he went back to pool. Ryland was still flirting with two women, and she had to wonder: What was the worst thing that could happen if she let her hair down and enjoyed herself for a few minutes? After all, it was her birthday. “Maybe just one drink.”

  Hot Guy nodded to the bartender, who promptly ambled over. “A Shirley Temple for Grandma here on her birthday.”

  Piper laughed. She shocked herself with her reaction, making her realize how long it’d been.

  Hot Guy took in her smile and almost gave her a small one of his own. “Or . . . whatever you want.”

  She bit her lip. What did she want? That was a very big question she’d tried very hard not to ask herself over the past decade plus, because what she wanted had never applied. In her life, there were need to do’s and have to do’s . . . and nowhere in there had there ever been time for what Piper wanted’s.

  Which was probably why she made lists like it was her job.

  The bartender’s name was Boomer, and she’d known him for a long time. He was waiting with a smile for her to admit the truth—that she loved Shirley Temples. But she didn’t admit any such thing. She just rolled her eyes—honestly, she was going to have to learn to stop doing that—and nodded.

  When Boomer slid a Shirley Temple in front of her, she took a big sip and was unable to hold in her sigh of pleasure, making Hot Guy finally really smile.

  And, oh, boy, it was a doozy.

  Just a little harmless flirting, she told herself. There was no harm in allowing herself this one little thing, right?

  The lights flickered again, and this time they went out and stayed out.

  She wasn’t surprised, and by the collective groan around her, she could tell no one else was either. Boomer hopped up onto the bar. “Storm—one, the bar—zero!” he yelled out to the crowd. “Everyone go home and stay safe!”

  In the ensuing mass exodus, Hot Guy grabbed Piper’s hand and tugged her along with him, not toward the front door with everyone else, but through the bar and out the back.

  Where, indeed, the storm had moved in with a vengeance, slapping them back against the wall.

  “How did you know about the back door if you’re new here?” she asked.

  “I always know the way out.”

  That she believed. She took in the night around them, which was the sort of pitch black that came from no power anywhere and a dark, turbulent sky whipped to a frenzy by high winds.

  “The rain’s gonna hit any second,” he told her, not sounding thrilled about that.

  This tugged a breathless laugh from her. “Chin up, Princess, or the crown sl