Ride the Tide (Deep Six #3) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,42
on to her pique around them.
“Find someone whose favorite breakfast cereal is different from yours.”
The man’s wife nodded enthusiastically. “That way, you never start the day with a fight over who gets the last bowl.”
Alex smiled. “That’s all it takes?”
“Oh, no, dearie.” The woman grinned. “But if we had the true secret to making a marriage last, we’d be millionaires and celebrating our anniversary in Fiji.”
Ding!
Alex was chuckling when the elevator hit the ground floor. She waved affectionately at the couple before stepping into the lobby.
A quick right took her to the bar, which was filled to capacity with sunburned tourists and leather-skinned locals. The air was heavy with the smell of suntan lotion and booze. And the Rolling Stones blasted from the speakers in the corners—good ol’ Mick lamenting how he couldn’t get no satisfaction.
You and me both, brother, Alex thought as she headed toward the bar, her steps quickening when she saw the tall, spare man seated on a stool at one end.
Doc Simmons didn’t have an ounce of wasted flesh on him. And his handsome face and devil-may-care hair usually meant he was surrounded by a bevy of female admirers. Tonight, however, he appeared to be drinking alone.
“Doc!” She pushed through the crowd toward him.
She would be forever grateful to him for coming to her rescue at the docks earlier. Seeing Mason with Donna—Mason with that body and those eyes and that smile turned toward someone else—had been too much. Alex had needed to run and…find shelter from the vicious thing eating at her insides. Doc had provided all of that when he hollered her name and opened his arms.
“Hey, Baby Bear.” He used the nickname he’d adopted for her one day after Bran called them into the kitchen to taste test his latest homemade lasagna.
Doc, a true westerner with little tolerance for spice, had declared the lasagna too hot. Alex, on the other hand, had pronounced it just right. Bran had made a “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” joke, and from then on, Doc was Papa Bear and she was Baby Bear.
“Headed to the pool?” Doc eyed her robe now.
“That’s what I’m hoping everyone thinks,” she said above the sound of music and laughter. “Truth is, all my clothes are in the wash.”
Doc was in the middle of sucking on his beer and lowered it to the bar with a thud. “You’re telling me you’re in the raw under there?” His jaw hung open just a bit.
The man who was sitting on the stool next to Doc craned his head around and gave Alex a considering once-over. Then he smiled flirtatiously, and Alex instinctively grinned in return. When the guy swung back around, it was to find Doc frowning at him loudly enough to strip the paint from the walls. “Time to call it a night?” Doc asked him, or rather growled.
The man made a strangled sound, dropped a five-spot on the bar for the bartender, and quickly hopped up to disappear into the crowd.
“Well, how about that?” Doc patted the empty stool beside him. “A seat just opened up.”
“Poor guy,” Alex mused as she snagged the vacated spot. “He’ll probably see you in his nightmares for weeks.”
Doc ignored her, hitching his chin toward her robe instead. “Better keep that thing cinched tight. Don’t want you falling out and then me having to fight off a crowd of horny men.”
“Please.” Alex rolled her eyes, snagging a menu from behind the bar. “I don’t see anyone with magnifying glasses in here. So even if I fell out, I’d be safe from unwanted advances.”
Doc eyed her quizzically. “In case you didn’t know it, a boob is a boob is a boob. We men like them all. And I’m sure yours are nicer than most.”
Alex folded down the menu and gave Doc her most winning smile. “Why, Doc, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He snorted and pointed the neck of his beer bottle at her. “If that’s true, you need to get out more.”
“I’ve been trying.” She huffed at the same moment the bartender appeared in front of her. “Do you recommend the cheeseburger or the patty melt?” she asked the short, stout gentleman wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a straw fedora. “I’m so hungry I could eat the ass out of a low-flying buzzard.”
When the bartender blinked, Doc offered an explanation. “You’ll have to excuse her. I’m pretty sure she suffers from low blood sugar.”