They might be big, mean, and had millions of dollars poured into their training, but no man remained immune from the all mighty power of the mother.
Trip shook his long, messy blonde hat-covered head before Jagger even finished speaking. "Hell no, man," Trip tossed the phone back to Jagger faster than a grenade with a missing pin. "You are not getting me mixed up in your mommy issues."
"Asshole"
"Prick"
The two men looked at each other and smiled in perfect understanding and harmony until reality announced the arrival of Alexa's flight from New Orleans.
"I'm here. I'll pick her up, swing by the house, let you out, drop Alexa off then meet the rest of you at the bar. Just leave a few cold beers and hot women for me," he joked even as his stomach churned.
Yep, that was the plan. Pick Alexa up, exchange a few token pleasantries, dump her off wherever she requested and hightail it back to his boys, beer and a few blondes.
The small airport situated right outside the Key catered to a few small private charters. Alexa must have some pull or money to arrange her own plane and pilot. They waited in the air-conditioned coolness, eyes squinted to the horizon.
"This must be her plane." Trip broke into his thoughts.
Sure enough a small twin-engine plane drew closer with each passing moment. Within minutes, the red and white Piper landed and taxied to a smooth stop while airport attendants scurried across the tarmac with a set of portable stairs and blocks for the wheels.
"Half an hour, right, Jagger. Then you'll dump the word-nerd and meet us for drinks and dames."
"Dames?" he snorted out the word. "Who the hell says dames anymore and with a Texas accent? Doesn't work well with you, my friend."
"Oh, shut the fu—" Trip's word stuttered to a stop as his friend's gaze jerked to something over Jagger's shoulder.
"Huh? What—"
Jagger turned to follow his friend's gaze. What met his eyes had his mouth drying up even as his cock hardened behind the zipper of his fly. "Come to papa," he whispered as he visually striped the goddess exiting the plane.
"I got dibs, Jagger. You're already called for, remember?" Without even looking at his friend, Jagger heard the smirk in Trip's voice.
Shit, for a woman like this one, he'd call a cab for Alexa, toss her some cash, wish her the best, and deal with the moms combined anger. 'Cause a perfect slice of curvy heaven didn't walk into his world everyday. Long tanned legs he wanted wrapped around his waist. Silky sable hair pined up in a loose sexy bun framed a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and full, lush glistening lips. Only a pair of oversized black sunglasses kept him from seeing the true beauty of her eyes.
Blue? Brown? Green? Something truly extraordinary he was sure. Nothing ordinary would fit the Venus strutting toward him in a red sundress.
"Looks like we're both out of luck, buddy. Our goddess seems to be taken." Trip's low spoken words pulled Jagger out of his visual inspection of the female only to notice the well-dressed companion tucked close to her side.
An older gentleman, six foot, dark hair with gray at the temples, dressed in a fancy expensive suit complete with light green tie, tucked himself close to Garrett's woman's side.
"That suit?" He snorted a laugh, already dismissing the older male as no threat. "I could take him out, drunk with both my hands broke. Besides, women everywhere love their military men. We're SEALs, man." He clapped his buddy on the shoulder. "Women have a thing for SEALs."
"Might be true, bud, but some ladies aren't too much for the blood shed. They actually like men who know something about wine, art, and shit like that. What the fuck are you going to talk to her about? The twenty ways to use C-4 when exploding an enemy camp? How to field strip a 9mm?"
"Those are damn important things to know," Jagger objected more from habit than passion. "They'll save your life more than knowing which fork to use at dinner. Which is probably the only thing pretty boy knows."
A sharp elbow poked his ribs. "Here's your chance to find out one way or another, stud man."
The smile his beauty shot the man at her side went straight to his groin. Shit, if he didn't get his head together, he'd lose the goddess to the three-piece suit. Never mind that Trip would rag Jagger about it for the rest of their lives.
The goddess in the swirling red sundress closed the distance between them. Her head was turned in profile, speaking to the unworthy man at her side. The words flowing out in her husky voice weren't English. Sounded German to him. But his language skills sucked at best. He'd barely made it through his foreign language Navy courses.
The other man smiled down at the woman on his arm, brimming with confidence, secure in his knowledge he had no other competition.