Laws of Attraction Read online

  “Hmm,” she uttered noncommittally. Immediately, she heard the other woman snort. Turning, she saw the blonde watching her with amusement.

  “Langley Ford.” Noelle appeared to study her for a moment, and her gaze was so intense that she had to force herself not to fidget. “You realize that you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, right?”

  Confused, she answered slowly, “I’m not following you.”

  Head cocked to the side, Noelle was quiet for a moment. “I feel like we both have an underlying reservation toward men. I’m certain our reasons differ, but that’s just the feeling I get.”

  In an attempt to drop the conversation, to have the analyzing cease, she steeled herself, firming her tone in response. “I’m just not interested. That’s all there is to it.”

  “So you wouldn’t mind if I went out with Lawson?”

  She felt her jaw clench and unclench as she attempted a casual tone. “Not at all.”

  Noelle’s eyes remained on her, her lips rolling inward as if attempting to school her expression. “Oh? Is that why your cup is nearly collapsed?”

  Shit. She glanced down at the plastic cup half-full of now tepid beer in her hand, her grasp on it making the sides collapse inward. Slowly releasing her grip, she raised her eyes to Noelle’s, the amusement in the blonde’s eyes chafing.

  Speaking through gritted teeth, she asked, “Want to discuss boss man?”

  Immediately, Noelle’s smile slipped, defensiveness rolling off of her in thick waves. After a moment, she nodded slowly. “Point taken, Ford. Point taken.”

  However, as she focused on the group of men sitting across from them on the large outdoor deck—playing their guitars and singing, clearly enjoying themselves—she felt the tiny urge … temptation that had been persistently nagging at her, as of late. The enticement to let go, of relaxing and dropping her guard. Something she hadn’t done since … him.

  And, just like that—even though he was likely thousands of miles away from her, performing the job she’d loved … had lived for—it reinforced what she had learned the hard way. She needed to maintain her guard, to protect herself.

  Even so, the words Lawson had whispered earlier in the quiet of the house seemed to haunt her, replaying in her mind.

  “You don’t seem to need anything … or anyone. But hell, if I don’t still want to be the one person you do need.”

  And hell, if a small part of her didn’t want to let him.

  C

  HAPTER SIX

  Berra’s law: You can observe much by just watching.

  Langley’s take: That’s God’s honest truth, if I ever heard it.

  ~

  “YOU KNOW, WHEN I ACCEPTED this job, I never realized exactly how many social outings would be expected of me.”

  Langley’s tone was dry, glancing over at her boss as he navigated his way toward the downtown area of Fernandina Beach.

  They were on their way to Shenanigans the following Saturday, a karaoke bar which was housed within a large multi-room bar including a martini bar, a sports bar, a small bar area which often hosted open-mike nights, as well as another room for large live bands.

  Foster tossed her an indecipherable look before turning his attention back to the road. “That’s the way I keep my people from deciding to swallow a bullet. One of the ways to help combat any lingering PTSD.” His words were spoken quietly but passionate, nonetheless.

  Foster Kavanaugh wasn’t merely an employer; he actually cared about those he employed. And, furthermore, his employees weren’t merely viewed as just that—they were family. He was fully aware of how difficult the transition was for many to go from military life to civilian life, as they all knew at least a handful of individuals who had unable to deal with lingering PTSD upon reentering civilian life, instead choosing to end their lives.

  They were silent for a moment as Foster drove. When he finally broke the silence, his words surprised her. “So. You seemed to be getting on well with Noelle.”

  Glancing over at him curiously, she waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she led in with, “And?”

  She watched the slight tic in his jaw, the muscles flexing in the arm he had on the steering wheel. Foster was a handsome man, there was no doubt about it. With his thick, muscular build, it was clear as day that the former SEAL hadn’t let himself go soft upon leaving the Teams. However, he wasn’t even a blip on her radar. Not that anyone had caused a blip on her radar since her career had imploded.

  Well, okay … that was a lie. There was one person.

  Foster spoke, interrupting her thoughts. “And I just wondered if maybe you had talked about things …”

  Tilting her head to the side, she watched as her normally confident boss faltered for words. “You wanted to know if we talked about what?” She batted her eyes. “Did we talk about boys and braid each other’s hair? Paint our toenails?”

  He flipped her the bird. “You know what I’m talking about, Ford. Did she mention anything about a guy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh.”

  “Why do you ask?” Studying him, she added, slowly, “Are you interested in her?”

  “She’s my employee.” His answer was quick, words spoken rapidly.

  Interesting response. Because it wasn’t exactly a denial.

  Cocking an eyebrow at him, she said, “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  Foster let out a long breath, shaking his head. “Hell.” Tossing a quick glance in her direction, he came to a stop at the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green, hands flexing on the steering wheel of his truck. “If I answer that question honestly, you need to answer a question for me. Honestly.”

  Unease ran through her at his words. Because she really didn’t want to rehash what had happened with Brent—she wanted to put it past her—but maybe this would be the final question Foster had about everything that had happened. Inhaling a deep breath before exhaling slowly, she gave a curt nod. “All right.”

  “Yes. But I get the feeling that she’s running from something bad that’s happened.” His whiskey-colored gaze found hers.

  Yeah, she had gotten the same feeling. Like the other woman had—

  Her head jerked. Hold up.

  Had Foster just admitted that he was interested in Noelle?

  The light turned green and Foster pressed on the accelerator, continuing their way to the downtown area. “Now it’s your turn, Ford.”

  Shit. Here it comes, she thought, bracing herself.

  “You have any interest in Lawson Briggs?”

  Wait, what? Head whipping around to stare at him, she gaped. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah, I heard you, but …” she trailed off. “I didn’t expect you to ask that.”

  Her boss snorted. “Ford, we’ve been over this. I know everything. We’re good.” Pause. “But you agreed to answer my question honestly.” She saw the corners of the man’s mouth tip up slightly.

  Letting out a loud sigh, she mumbled, “Maybe.”

  “What was that, Ford? I didn’t quite catch it.”

  Eyes growing squinty, she glared at him, wishing she could give a sharp slap at the twitching of his lips, knowing he was barely resisting the urge to smile. “I said maybe.”

  “Maybe isn’t an answer.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He shook his head. “No, it isn’t, Ford. You and I both know that.” He fell silent as he expertly maneuvered the truck into a parking spot against the curb, executing a perfect parallel parking job.

  Turning off the ignition, he held his keys in his hand and studied her. “Ford.”

  “Kavanaugh,” she mimicked his stern tone, maintaining eye contact.

  “Any interest? Yes or no?”

  Pressing her lips thin, she tried to think of ways to deflect and promptly came up with … absolutely nothing.

  Shit.

  “Fine,” she huffed out. “A smidge.”

  He studied her intently,
long enough to make her feel fidgety. Suddenly, he broke into a satisfied smile. “That’s what I thought. Good luck.”

  “Good luck?” she asked, confused.

  “Yeah. Because I get the feeling it’s going to be one a hell of a ride for you, Lee.” With those cryptic words, Foster exited the truck, leaving her to ponder just what he meant by them.

  And also with the realization that Lawson’s nickname for her might just have truly caught on with the others.

  * * *

  “You’re serious about this?” Lawson watched as his best friend, Zach, eyed him with apparent skepticism.

  They were standing in his bathroom as he was finishing up before they joined everyone else downtown at Shenanigans for karaoke night. He had sent a text to Zach to see if he’d stop over and give him moral support for the event. Of course, being the stellar best friend Zachariah Mayson was, he showed up without any qualms.

  “Yep. Besides,” he paused as he wiped the side of his face with the small hand towel, “nothing’s permanent.” Facing his friend, he pretended to pose, stroking his chin as he turned to the side. “What do you think? Hot, right?” Turning to the other side to offer his profile, he quipped, “Be honest, Mayson. It’s taking all of your power to resist me right now, isn’t it?”

  When he was greeted with silence as a response, he met his friend’s worried gaze. Knowing what was coming next, he blew out a long breath.

  “Go ahead. Say it.”

  Propped against the doorway of the bathroom, one hand in the pocket of his pressed khaki pants, Zach waved a hand, gesturing to him. “You do realize what you’re doing, right? What you’re never supposed to do.” His friend’s gray eyes held his, the concern evident.

  With a sigh, he held up a hand. “I know, Z. I know. I’m not changing for her. It’s more like making a point rather than anything else.” He flashed him a cocky grin. “I’m showing that I’m still a hot piece, regardless.”

  Zach smirked briefly before sobering, his tone careful, subdued. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and …”

  “And end up disappointed because it didn’t turn out how I planned? I know, man. And I appreciate it.” He clasped a hand to his friend’s shoulder, grinning at him. “Besides, we all know that’s not likely to happen.”

  Zach chuckled, gesturing to the white T-shirt beneath the unbuttoned black button-down he’d paired with dark-washed jeans. “Oh, Laws. With a shirt like that, I’d guess not.”

  Lawson preened, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt as the two men exited the bathroom, walking down the hall to where Laney sat, reading a book on the Kindle app on her phone.

  When he and Zach approached where she was sitting on the couch, she looked up, instantly doing a double-take.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed out, staring at him. Gaze traveling down to his shirt, her hazel eyes instantly lit up with amusement. Laughing, she waved a hand, gesturing to his shirt. “And that, right there, serves as an instant reminder that you’re still the same old Laws.” Tipping her head to the side, she grinned. “Never thought I would say this, but I actually have to agree with this T-shirt. Life is definitely too short to wear mediocre underwear.” After a brief pause, she added, “And I think I might really like this new look on you.”

  And as he locked his door, trailing down the stairs after the couple, he had to wonder if Lee would agree.

  C

  HAPTER SEVEN

  Colson’s law: When you get them by the balls, their minds and hearts always follow.

  Lawson’s take: I’m pretty sure Lee had me by the balls from the start. I mean that in the best way possible, of course.

  ~

  “SO, WHERE’S YOUR BEAU?” KANE leaned his muscular forearms upon the large table where they were all seated inside the karaoke bar. Aquamarine gaze on hers, he smirked. “Reckon he should be here by now, don’t you?”

  “Well now, darlin’,” she drawled in an attempt at mimicking his own southern accent. “Being as I don’t have a beau, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”

  He threw his head back in laughter before his eyes returned to her, sparkling with humor. “Now, now. Don’t you be playin’ coy with me.”

  Turning to Doc, their other coworker, she asked, “Is he always like this?”

  “Pretty much.” He grinned. “Gets even worse from here on out, trust me.”

  Kane winked at Doc. “Now, don’t you go tellin’ whoppers. You know you love it when I harass you.”

  Lifting his beer to his lips, Doc gazed at his friend from beneath his brows, eyes alit with mischievous amusement. “Stop. You’re making me blush.”

  “On that note …” She rose from her seat, looking from between Kane, Doc, and Foster. “You need anything from the bar?”

  Kane raised his water. “I’m not drinking tonight. Got an early surf time tomorrow with Mayson. Which reminds me,” he furrowed his brow, “he should be here by now.”

  Foster shrugged. “Laney said she and Zach were running behind because they had to head over to Laws’ place for some reason.” Turning to her, he said, “I’m good, Ford. Thanks.”

  After a quick nod, she glanced over at Doc, who shook his head with a, “No, thanks.” Heading over to the bar to get a beer, she immediately spotted a small section at the end where she would be able to stand and attempt to get one of the busy bartenders’ attention.

  Sliding into the spot, she propped her elbows upon the lacquered wood. As soon as she gave the bartender her order for another beer, she felt the imminent approach of the guy who had been standing off to the side with his buddies as she waited.

  She’d felt eyes on her as soon as she had approached the bar. It wasn’t as if she were dressed like the majority—okay, like any—of the other women in the multi-room bar. She wasn’t wearing anything revealing but had dressed in a pair of dark green khaki pants and a tank top, paired with her favorite flip flops. Maybe it was because she had forgone her usual ponytail and had, instead, twisted her hair up in a claw clip, which Raine had said softened her appearance.

  Softened. Yeah. Because, apparently, she wasn’t soft … or approachable. Not that the sweet woman had said that. She wasn’t sure she could ever imagine Raine being anything other than kind.

  So, she did the mental countdown. She suspected he’d make it five counts, max.

  Five, four, three, two, one, ze—

  “Hey.” The guy slid in next to her, leaning against the bar, crowding her, which she immediately disliked. It also put her on the defensive.

  Looking up, she did a quick appraisal. Polo shirt in a shade that was a cross between pink and the lightest red, slightly rounded over the signs of what promised to be a good sized beer belly, likely within a few short years. The shirt was tucked into a pair of pressed khaki pants with one of those braided belts. His hair, short everywhere except for the small bit at the front which he’d clearly gelled and smoothed upward, was a light shade of blond, appearing as though he’d had it bleached.

  “Hey,” she tossed the greeting back, nonchalantly, before turning to accept her change from the bartender. Leaving a tip on the bar, she grabbed her beer, intent on leaving. Just as she turned, his fingers grasped her arm just above her elbow, drawing her to a halt.

  Narrowing her eyes, she glanced down at his fingers gripping her before meeting his gaze. “Let go.”

  The corners of his lips curved upward into a grin that made him appear menacing instead of suave, which she was certain was the effect he’d been going for. “Maybe I’m not ready to let you go.”

  “The lady said to let go. That means you’d better let go.” The forceful words made both of them turn their attention to the individual who was now standing at her side. Seeing not only Kane but also Foster, she noticed another man approaching, vaguely noting that there was something familiar about him.

  “You’ve got some balls, interfering with a private conversation.” The guy was either too drunk or stupid to realize what
—or who—he was going up against.

  The usual merriment of Kane’s demeanor was nowhere to be found, his broad-shouldered form intimidating enough on a normal basis. With a deadly gleam in his eyes, paired with Foster, one would assume that the guy would make the smart choice to back off.

  Apparently, he was not very bright. Because he straightened, posturing as he stuck out his chest. Giving her a dirty look, he sneered. “You don’t have to be such a bitch and sick your pit pulls on me.”

  “What did you just call her?” A menacing voice rang out as the owner of the voice emerged from behind her other friends, and it was then that pure shock reverberated through her entire body. Because that voice—that voice—had never sounded menacing but, instead, had always been lighthearted. And the person owning the voice looked …whoa.

  Was that Lawson Briggs?

  Holy shit. It was Lawson Briggs. A vastly different version of the man.

  She felt her lips part in surprise, taking in his appearance. He was clean-shaven, the neatly trimmed, dark blond beard gone. In its place were a smooth, chiseled jawline and cheekbones.

  “You heard me. I called her a bitch.” The response from the asshole beside her drew her from her thoughts and she turned to give him a piece of her mind. However, before she could do so, Foster spoke up.

  “You’re dead wrong. I’ll tell you what classifies as a bitch. Someone who can’t take a hint. Someone who lays his hands on someone else without permission.”

  “You mean like this, Fos?” Kane asked the question casually, reaching out to grasp the asshole’s shoulder. She watched as his fingers flexed, squeezed, and saw the flinch her aggressor gave.

  Foster stepped closer, entire demeanor menacing. “Apologize to the lady. Now.”

  Beady eyes darted to her and he quickly muttered, “Sorry.”

  Kane released his grip and steered the man away from them. “Get outta here.”

  She stared at the men before her, eyes narrowed in irritation. “Seriously?” She waved in the direction of where the other guy had been. “You think I haven’t dealt with shit like that before? Like I couldn’t handle myself?”