THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,378

let the foul-tasting liquid touch my tongue. Straight to my throat. Down the hatch. I turn to Marissa with a horrible face and watch as she sips daintily on a dirty martini. Bitch.

She smirks, knowing my pain. “Taste good?”

I make a noise with my lips. “Tastes like success,” I hiss back, grimacing.

“Man, I’m glad I’m not successful like you.” She laughs, and I laugh with her. The booming voices behind me bring me a sense of comfort. It’s going far better than I thought it would. Marissa offers me her glass, and I take a sip and close my eyes. She snatches it back and nods at my beer. “Down it, badass.”

I force another sip and groan. That’s when Luke Hart walks through the open door into the patio area. The wind lifts his hair, and the strings of lights zig zagged over our heads illuminate his face. I wipe my top lip when his eyes catch on me. “Who is that,” Marissa hisses, lips at my ear.

“No one,” I reply, swallowing another bitter sip. “A SEAL.” A legend. He smirks at me. A dimple. I cough and break my gaze. The guys behind me silenced when he walked in. The man trailing behind him with two beers, not the shit kind, is just as impressive. I think his name is Dagger. He has black hair that looks inhumanly perfect and a smile that peels off skin. Scary.

“Little Dempsey,” Luke says, eyes never turning in my direction. He’s grabbing a beer from his friend behind him. “Congrats guys,” he says, raising his mug to the group behind me. Dagger doesn’t join. Luke chugs his beer at record speed as I watch, nose wrinkled. “And girl,” he says, quieter to me. “Are you guys eating?”

Sanders answers for our group. “Thanks man. No, we’re just drinking.”

“Should get some food in your stomach before you make bad decisions,” Dagger says, eyes narrowed. His face is so stoic it feels like an order. Maybe it is.

Luke looks at the beer in my fist, then meets my eyes. “What about you? Down to eat the best cheeseburger in Coronado?”

I’m about to turn him down because he intimidates me and also because I don’t eat garbage, but Marissa answers for me. “Yes. We’re starving. Let’s eat. You can get some form of lettuce or bun free protein here I bet.”

Protesting is futile when I’m outnumbered. Luke already has his hand in the air signaling for a waitress. He walks to an open table across the patio and looks over his shoulder to make sure we’re following. Dagger comes along as well and I honestly wish one of the guys from my BUD/s class would join. It would be a great opportunity to mix company with veteran SEALs and gain allies—make friends. I slink into a chair and put the half full mug on the table in front of me. Luke eyes it. “What do you really want to drink? I know you don’t want that.”

“How do you know what I want?” I ask.

My friend laughs as she seats herself next to Dagger. “She likes dirty martinis. How does he know, Aara, really? Because no one in their right mind likes to drink lukewarm piss water. Don’t be obtuse.”

Luke’s brows shoot up. “Aara. Aara. Is that what you go by?” He tastes my name, rolling it around on his tongue. I focus my attention on the dingy laminated menu in front of me instead of Luke’s light blue, laser gaze that pairs so well with his permanent smirk.

I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m Aara to my friends. Family too,” I say, dragging my finger down the menu options, trying to focus. The waitress arrives and Luke orders drinks for the table. Proving my friend right, I order a burger without a bun. My phone chimes from my purse. It’s my mom asking how tonight is going. She’s always been supportive, albeit scared, about me entering this world. I think she’d be afraid no matter what I chose, though. Seems like typical mom behavior. When I went to the Naval Academy, she called me constantly to check in. It’s near impossible to get into trouble unless you’re really trying at Military School. Traveling abroad alone? Falling for a rock star? That nearly gave Natalie Dempsey a heart attack.

This is child’s play in comparison, so I tap back a quick thumbs up, and tell her that Marissa came as moral support, and to tell Dad to stop worrying. “What’s