Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,60

and over again as I drift off to sleep in Drake’s arms.

Just keep living.

19

Drake

I’d call the Bachelor/Bachelorette Party Weekend a success. Both Dare and Berkeley seemed happy with the events we’d thrown together and to have the opportunity to spend time with our tight-knit group and each other in one fell swoop. As February runs into March, it takes all of the winter air with it and brings about a change in the world I should be used to seeing by now.

In Lone Sands, a true spring or fall is a rare find. When winter ends with a string of mild weather, it rolls out the red carpet for summer. And as soon as the weather begins to warm, the tourists start their weekend trips to the perfect seaside retreat.

Something about that weekend—I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I messed up and realized I never wanted to do it again, or the fact that she shared something so intimate with me that brought us closer together. I don’t go a day without seeing her now, and most nights are spent together in my bed. It feels right. Having her beside me, where I can keep an eye on her and keep her nightmares away, is a new purpose for me.

It’s always busier at the garage at this time of the year, and that’s something I’ll never complain about. It gives me a lot less time to finish up my Yamaha, but it puts extra change in my pocket, and that’s never a bad thing. The motorcycle will wait, and I don’t have much left to do on it before it’s done, anyway.

Now that it’s warm enough, we keep all the garage bay doors wide open so that the warm air can flow in around us while we’re working, and we’ve turned off the space heaters for the last time this year. One morning when I’m hard at work on a stool beside a Buick, Mea strolls into the garage through one of those open doors.

Someone’s tool clatters to the floor as she walks in, and I can’t blame whatever fucker dropped it because, damn. She’s got her hair piled up on top of her head in the style I think borders on erotic, letting the stray spirals flutter around her flawless face. She’s wearing tight yoga pants that call far too much attention to her sexy curves. Her tight little waist is barely covered with a workout top, and I know she’s just finished teaching yoga for the day. There’s a big brown bag in one hand and an electrifying smile on her lips.

Hoover clears his throat and stands up from his bench, and I shoot him a look that I want to send a message. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s staring at my girl, and I can’t fucking blame him.

“Hey, you.” It’s her standard greeting for me, and her chocolate gaze leveled at me tips Hoover off that this isn’t just a customer. He turns his shocked gaze on me.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I approach her, pull her to me gently. I brush my lips quickly against hers, then pull back and glance down at the bag.

“What are you doing here, baby?”

Without pulling her body away from mine, she looks up at me, and her smile alone is almost enough to do me in. Every time. I can’t resist the wild wind that sucks me in every time I’m with her, and I don’t want to try. I’m a willing sacrifice to her cyclonic power, and as usual, it’s wild, wild, wild.

She indicates the brown bag. “Brought you lunch, you big lug. I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never brought my man lunch before. Guess I’ve never been able to call any man ‘mine’ so I’m all excited about it.”

The inside of me melts. Fucking melts. “You callin’ me your man?”

Pulling back all the way this time, she mock punches me in my arm. “Who else?”

Javier, coming up beside me, leans an arm on my shoulder as he stares between the two of us. “Day-um, boss. I swear if I weren’t taken, I’d steal your girl.”

Rolling my eyes, I jerk a thumb toward Sosa. “Mea, Javier. Javier, Mea. Don’t worry baby, he’s not stupid enough to touch you.”

Javier grins, pushing off my arm so that I have to brace myself not to lose my balance. “Shawn wouldn’t like it if I tried to add a third, anyway. He’s fucking selfish that way.” With a