Only With Me (With Me #2)
Author: Kelly Elliott
"SO, WHAT DO you do when you're not . . . SWAT teaming?"
I glanced up at the young woman standing at our table. Her bright-red lips puckered out in an attempt to look sexy while she leaned over and put her tits on display. All I really wanted to do was tell her she had lipstick on her front tooth. Focusing back on my sandwich, I ignored her. It was a dick-move, but damn it all to hell, I just wanted to eat.
Phil, another SWAT team member, answered her. "We train, ma'am."
The waitress laughed. "Ma'am? Holy shit, how old do I look?"
None of us answered. Hell, we knew better than to touch that shit with a ten-foot pole. If I was to guess though, I'd say she couldn't have been more than twenty.
"What kind of training?" she asked.
Cole kicked me under the table. She wasn't going to go away until I talked to her. With a sigh, I put my sliced brisket sandwich down and wiped my hands on my napkin.
I cleared my throat, flashed her my signature smile, and replied, "Ma'am, if we told you, we'd have to kill you."
Her smile faltered a little before it grew wider. She got what she wanted, me talking to her. "How about drinks later, handsome?"
Damn. That was fast.
Usually it took the new waitresses at least a week before they were throwing themselves at one of us.
With a fake chuckle, I replied, "I don't think my wife would like that very much."
With a pout, she shrugged. "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."
Spinning on her heels, she headed to another table.
"I hate new waitresses," Phil mumbled.
"I hate that they always want Nic. What the fuck is wrong with the rest of us?" Cole asked. "I'd have taken her up on the drinks."
"Yeah, if you want your ass thrown in jail. She looks sixteen," Phil stated with a deep rumbled laugh.
"It's the Greek in him. It's like a magnet for women. I have yet to see one it hasn't worked on," our sergeant, Oliver, said.
"I almost laugh every time you say my wife," Cole said.
Rolling my eyes, I went back to eating. Was it too much to ask for us to eat in peace? We'd been coming to this restaurant for over six years now. Once the newness of seeing all of us walk in wore off, the waitresses usually treated us like every other customer. But when there was a new one and she saw us walk through that door in tight T-shirts, muscles on display, and the word SWAT splayed across said shirt, something happened. It was like their hormones were turned up into overdrive.
"Yeah well, it keeps the ones I'm not interested in at bay."
Phil laughed. "And you're not worried the ones you've fucked aren't going to say you're a lying bastard?"
It was true. At times I did worry about my little lie. Over the years I had screwed one or two . . . or maybe six . . . of the waitress at Roy's Place. None of them bothered to even ask if I was married. Each was a fast fuck. In the alley behind the restaurant, in my truck, outside the bar before we even made it in, the backseat of their car, Roy's office, and my favorite, fucking Scarlett in the bathroom while the rest of the guys sat out there and ate. Bastards still had no clue about that one.
I smiled. Something to be said about public sex.
With a shrug, I responded. "They got what they wanted. Besides, they never stay long enough to care."
Cole looked over to the long counter. "Scarlett's still here."
Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as Scarlett, Roy's daughter, poured a cup of coffee for a customer. Her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail and one of her signature Dierks Bently T-shirts on. She winked and said something to the old man before turning around and grabbing a few plates.
I turned back to Cole. "Scarlett's different. She's part owner, you asshole."
"And the occasional hook-up."
Shrugging, I replied, "What's wrong with that?"
Holding up his hands he laughed. "Nothing at all, my friend. Nothing at all. We've all had the go-to fuck buddy at one point."
I wasn't sure why, but Cole's comment bothered me more than it should have. Was that all I was ever going to have in my life? A fuck buddy?
My phone buzzed on my side. Pulling it out, I frowned as I read the text.
Mom: Don't forget dinner tonight.
I quickly typed out my response.
Me: Can't make it tonight. Training session.
Mom: Don't lie to me Nicholaus. I will find out.
Laughing, I turned to Oliver. "If my mother sends you a text, we're training tonight."
He nodded, like what I had said was nothing new. It wasn't. Ever since Thad and Thano had settled down, my mother was even more eager to set me up with a good Greek girl. I was almost positive the last girl she tried to set me up with was a distant cousin.