Shane observed when Mouse was out of earshot.
“It’s only his third mission.” Taylor shrugged off the tickle at the base of his neck. “He graduated top of his BUD/S class. He’s got what it takes.”
“They don’t all make it,” Shane pointed out quietly, his eyes on the retreating SEAL. “Not even getting through BUD/S is a guarantee.”
“This one was rough,” Taylor said dismissively, thinking of his own troubles shaking off the mission aftermath. “He’ll be fine.”
He’d make sure of it. The SEALs, the team, they were a brotherhood. Taylor hadn’t had siblings growing up and he’d be damned if now that he’d found them he was letting a single one go without a fight. Especially not one he’d brought in himself.
* * *
AT 2105, TAYLOR PULLED into Olive Oyl’s bar, his Harley’s tires kicking up crushed shells as he roared across the parking lot. Long and lean, the weathered building’s large windows showed that it was already packed inside.
With purple neon lights from the bar sign washing over the chrome of his bike, Taylor parked, swung his leg free and hooked his helmet over the handlebar. It’d be safe. Nobody messed with the SEAL’s property here. The bar patrons knew better. Hell, even the punk kids who cruised the beach knew better.
Heading for the door, Taylor’s head filled with the images of ones who didn’t. With the ugly words spewing from young mouths, rifles firing from bodies that shouldn’t yet be able to lift them.
Shake it off, he warned himself. Just as he’d warned Mouse to do when he’d taken him aside after the debriefing. They were trained to do the job and part of doing that job meant letting go once it was done. So he did what he’d instructed the other man to do. He shoved the memory, the horror, into a tiny corner of his brain and locked it away.
When he headed into the bar, it was with easy anticipation. And why not? The music was rock, the beer was cold and the place was filled with friends. One of whom owed him fifty bucks. Grinning, he set off to find his money.
Taylor stepped into the smaller room toward the back of the bar and gave an appreciative smile.
“Hello, ladies,” he said quietly.
Six women, all uniquely beautiful, turned to greet him. All but Alexia, who was well into her pregnancy, crossed the room with hugs at the ready.
“If it isn’t the Wizard himself,” Alexia said with a soft smile when he joined her. “The guys are playing pool so you’ll have to entertain us for a while.”
“I’m here to please.”
He nodded his thanks when the roving waitress in blue sailor pants, a cropped top and cute sailor cap brought him a beer.
“Taylor, you’re not dating anyone, right? Because I have the perfect woman for you.”
Damn.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t taken Scavenger’s warning to heart. But he’d thought he’d at least get to finish a beer before the matchmaking began.
His eyes shifted from woman to woman. Alexia to Livi, Sage to Eden. Lark to Frankie. Then, before he could stop himself, his gaze slid toward the door.
Taylor was a man so renowned for his bravery that he had enough medals to cover half of his chest. He was so clever at getting out of sticky situations that his friends called him Mr. Wizard. And he was so well trained that he could face down a trio of terrorist-armed suicide bombers and automatic weapons without blinking and then disarm them all with nary an explosion.
A healthy, red-blooded male, he appreciated women.
A man raised by a single mother, he respected them.
He admired their shape, their softness, their strength. He treasured their laughter and their hearts.
And he knew exactly how scary they could be. Faced with a half dozen luscious examples of womanhood, his mind raced for the best way out of a potentially explosive situation.
Before he had to, Frankie came to his rescue.
“Hey now, hold on,” the bubbly redhead interrupted. “That’s not fair. I’ve been waiting for Taylor to get back on US soil because I have a great gal I was going to set him up with.”
Taylor frowned. That wasn’t exactly the rescue he’d been hoping for.
“What? We’re setting Taylor up?” Her eyes wide, Lark said, “I want in on this. There’s this lovely woman at the gallery who’d be perfect for him.”
“I can cast your astrological chart first,” Sage offered, her thumb ring glinting as she leaned forward to lay her hand on his arm. “Forewarned is forearmed, and all that jazz. If you want, I can cast charts for your date, too.”
That set off a cacophony so loud, Taylor couldn’t tell if they were arguing, debating, agreeing or planning his demise.
“Ladies, ladies,” Taylor interrupted, one palm up to echo his tone. Friendly demand. “As used as I am to women fighting over me, please, don’t get yourselves into an uproar. There’s no need.”
“But you deserve someone special,” Eden said with a warm smile.
“To hell with that. We need to get you off the market so all the single women quit trying to glom onto our guys after you’re done with them,” Livi said with a wicked laugh.
“Not necessary.”
“Why?” Alexia shifted in her chair and angled her head to give him a narrow look. “Are you seriously involved with someone?”
Taylor opened his mouth to offer an affirmative before making the mistake of looking into Alexia’s eyes. Damn it. He couldn’t lie. Not to her. Not when he cared.
“I am seeing someone,” he said instead, sidestepping the truth enough that guilt danced right on by. After all, he’d had a great view of a sexy blonde when he’d rolled out of her bed two weeks ago. There was the other blonde working the counter at the pizza place a few weeks back who’d provided dessert along with extra pepperoni.
Hell, he’d seen at least a dozen women in the past couple of months. On the low side, but the mission had meant he was gone for ten days.
“You’re dating someone?” Alexia clarified, her narrowed eyes echoing the doubt in her tone. “Seriously dating someone?”
Taylor only hesitated for a heartbeat before widening his smile.
“Serious as a heart attack.” That was about what it would take for him to date anyone seriously.
“Taylor...” Livi leaned close, her new-mom instincts obviously smelling the lie. “You’re telling us that you, the perpetual bachelor, are seriously dating a woman? As in, you’ve gone out with her more than twice, you’ve had a conversation that lasted longer than fifteen minutes and you’d consider introducing her to your mother.”
Why did she have to bring his mother into it?
Taylor’s mom had pounded the virtue of truthfulness into him from a young age. But four years of special ops training, nine in the Navy and six days as a prisoner of war should help him overcome that little issue.
So he did what he’d learned so well to do.
He lied.
“Sure am.”
After exchanging looks with the other women, Alexia smiled.
“Good,” she said.
“Good?” Whew. He lifted his beer, surprised that it’d gone that easy.
“Yes, good,” Alexia said with a smile. “You can bring her to the bonfire Saturday night.”
Taylor was fast, but he couldn’t think of an excuse before Sage reached over to give him a hug.
“Just