He took a closer look at her.
Her big guileless dark eyes broadcast her every reaction. Her olive complexion spoke to her heritage. Italian perhaps, judging by her name.
The outfit didn’t show a lot of skin, but still clung to her body, displaying and accentuating every one of her lush curves.
The effect was sexy as hell. More so than if she’d been half naked, a look he usually didn’t mind, particularly while visiting the strip club just off base.
It seemed she wasn’t going anywhere soon and now, after that last perusal of her assets, he had a hard-on that he feared wouldn’t go away as long as she was nearby.
With any luck this young woman who’d latched on to him wasn’t as young as he’d first assumed. Hopefully, the lighting was making her look more youthful than she actually was.
“Can I buy you another drink?” She eyed the glass in front of him. The one he’d forgotten all about during this surreal interaction.
“No. Thanks.”
More alcohol in his system was the last thing he needed. It would only make him more susceptible to the idea that tumbling into bed with this sweet thing would help him sleep more soundly tonight than any bottle of whisky could.
“Oh. Okay.” She looked surprised at his answer, and if he wasn’t imagining things, disappointed.
Maybe she was interested in him, maybe she was just grateful he’d helped get rid of the dickhead bothering her. He didn’t know and judging by his body’s reaction to her, he couldn’t stick around to find out without risking making a poor decision. One he might regret later.
He stood. “I should be going.”
She pressed her lips together. “I should probably leave too.”
He’d promised himself he’d see her safely to her car. That had been pre-hard-on, but still, it was the right thing to do.
The bartender was too busy doing his thing. Mack couldn’t expect the man to babysit lone girls who wandered in and attracted the wrong kind of attention from lowlife scum.
He drew in a breath and resigned himself to having her near him for a little bit longer. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Her eyes widened. “Um, okay.”
Her assumption was obvious in her transparent emotions. She thought it was a pick-up line. That his wanting to walk her to her car was a ruse. An excuse for a good night kiss . . . or more.
Shit. Mack needed to clarify. He glanced around the bar and didn’t see the troublemaker.
“I want to make sure our new friend doesn’t get any dumb ideas and follow you out.”
She smiled. “You’d do that? Walk me to my car to protect me?”
“Look. It’s no big deal—”
“It is. That’s so nice. Thank you.”
Mack was starting to regret the offer as she continued to make a big thing out of nothing.
“I’m not far. Just outside,” she continued.
He waved her off. “Whatever. It’s fine.
“I really would feel so much better knowing I wasn’t alone.”
He scowled at that comment. Of course she would feel safer not being alone outside a bar at this time of night. He hoped she remembered that before she considered going into an unfamiliar place by herself again.
Didn’t she have a friend to go out with? Girls shouldn’t be out alone.
Old fashioned? Maybe. Chauvinistic? Possibly. But Mack had seen too many of the horrors inflicted on the female population in some of the hellholes of the world in which he’d been sent.
Hell, human trafficking and the sex slave trade existed everywhere, no hellhole required.
He knew for a fact the sexes weren’t always equal.
Okay, maybe if no one had been around, this girl probably could have handled things herself. Kicked the guy in the balls. Pepper-sprayed him. Screamed or called the cops. Something to save herself.
But with his strength and his training, Mack could quietly take out a threat swiftly and efficiently. Permanently or temporarily, depending on the situation or the mission, dictated by his orders and the rules of engagement set forth.
Her way might work, but he preferred the odds of success by doing things his way.
Now that she’d finally stopped spewing her thanks to him, all for his doing nothing more than offering to walk outside beside her, he said, “It’s no problem. You ready to go?”
She planted her bottle on the bar. “Yeah.”
He shoved the rest of the money forward toward the bartender. “Have a good night.”
Mack wasn’t going to get his free drink tonight, but the guy had earned the generous tip, not only for serving his two drinks, but also for cleaning up the piece of shit Mack had left lying on the floor.
“Thanks.” Scooping up the bills, the bartender eyed the girl and then Mack with a knowing expression. “You too.”
Mack rolled his eyes. This was not a hook-up, and he’d set the guy straight next time he was in, but he wasn’t going to do it now in front of the object of the bartender’s erroneous assumption.
Time to blow this place. He shot her a glance. “Come on.”
She scrambled to keep up with him as he strode for the door.
Realizing she was probably going to break her ankle in the heels she wore while trying to match his pace as he made his way toward the exit, he slowed down.
At the exit, he turned and paused to wait for her to catch up.
She looked flustered. “I’m just across the street. It’s not far. I won’t take you too far out of your way.”
“No problem.” His lips twitched with amusement that she was worried about taking him out of his way. She had no idea she was probably parked directly in front of his building.
A refreshing slap of cool air hit Mack across the face as he pushed through the doorway and stepped outside.
After the heat of the many bodies pressed too closely together inside, it gave him a renewed appreciation for the outdoors. He’d kind of lost that after the past few weeks of trudging through Nigeria.
Never mind the heat, the bugs alone were enough to make him hate that damn forest. Though seeing his teammate Rocky act like a girl around the snakes had been a bright spot.
Pushing the memories away, Mack focused on the here and now. He glanced across the street as they waited for a car to pass so they could safely cross.
Two cars parked on the opposite curb were familiar to him. But next to where he had his bike parked was an unfamiliar car. He’d bet his Harley it belonged to this girl.
A bright green Volkswagen Beetle with a white and yellow daisy painted on the hood seemed about right for this chick.
The sight of the ridiculous car had him torn between rolling his eyes and smiling. He tried to control both impulses, though he supposed the car and it’s paint job were meant to amuse. What other reason would someone have for painting a flower that big on a car?
The road now clear, he reached for Lydia’s elbow to steer her across the street, figuring that was safest. He wasn’t convinced she wasn’t going to fall flat on her face or get her heel stuck in a sewer grate or manhole cover.
He might not be able to sleep, but laying awake in bed was still better than spending the night in a chair in the waiting room of the emergency room waiting for her to get fixed up because he’d let her get hurt.
Nope. No broken ankles here. At least not on his watch.
Of course, he did enjoy how the impractical but sexy as sin shoes gave her a little extra wiggle as she walked. And a bit of extra bounce to her full breasts.
Yanking his eyes off his companion’s assets, Mack focused on his goal—the daisy car. He headed directly for it—like a bee to a flower—and tried not to smile at his own ridiculous joke.
They were almost to the driver’s side door of the vehicle, when she asked, “How did you know this was my car?”
Dropping his hold on her now that they’d reached the car, he glanced down at her. She was tall for a female, especially with the added height of the heels, but he still had a good half a head on her.
“Good guess?”
“Oh.” She took another step toward the car—and pitched forward.
Mack’s reflexes kicked in. He reached out and took hold of her elbow again as he grabbed for her other arm with his free hand.
At the same time he turned and stepped in front of her to block her fall. She crashed into his chest, which he figured was better than face-planting in the street.
“Whoa. You all right?” he asked.
She glanced up at him through a fall of dark, wild curls that had fallen across her eyes. “Yeah. I’m just a klutz.”
He smiled. “You’re not a klutz.”
Lydia blew her hair out of her face and he got a better look at her scowl. “Then why did I fall?”
Hearing the annoyance in her tone, he cocked a brow. “Well, it’s dark. The surface of the street is uneven. You were walking in heels that are far too high for you. And you’ve been drinking.”
A crease appeared in her forehead. “What do you mean my heels are too high for me? I can walk just fine in these heels, thank you.”
Of the laundry list of reasons he’d given her, that was the one she’d zeroed in on? Not to mention got offended about.
This girl was proving to be more amusing than he’d ever imagined.
“I suppose you think that only skinny girls are allowed to wear high heels,” she accused, her frown firmly in place.
“I never said that.”
“No, but it’s what you meant.”