Remember When (Teach Me Book 3) Read online

  Lawson drew back, hand moving to his mouth to cover an exaggerated gasp. “Why, Miller Vaughn. Were you checking out my ass? If so, I totally did that extra jiggle for your benefit.”

  Shaking his head, a little laugh came out in a huff. “Right. Sure, Laws. That’s exactly what I was doing.”

  Lawson leaned in closer so as not to be overheard by the others. “I know my ass doesn’t begin to compare to Ted’s but …” The urge to slap the smirk off Lawson’s face was so tempting.

  So. Damn. Tempting.

  Lawson suddenly sat back, pointing a finger toward Miller’s hands, to where his forearms were braced on the table. “I saw that. That little millisecond of clenching. Don’t do it. It would be like squishing a puny little ant. Nothing warrior-like about that. Trust me.”

  Miller laughed. “Laws, you are something else.”

  “Something else like, oh, I don’t know. Something wonderful? Phenomenal? Hot? Sexy?” He stared at him expectantly.

  Amusement lit Miller’s blue eyes, meeting Lawson’s gaze. “Sure. All that.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Lawson crossed his arms with a satisfied smile. “I knew you had it bad for me, dude. I just knew it.” He gave him a knowing look. “You have way too much love to dedicate it all to Ted.”

  Miller’s eyes went squinty.

  Lawson laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve gotta love me, man. It’s really the only way.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yep.” He flashed him a toothy grin and Miller couldn’t help but return the smile, begrudgingly.

  “Yeah, yeah. I love you, man.”

  Lawson leaned back in his seat, acting casual. “Samesies.”

  Miller groaned, hands covering his face. Because, yeah … Miller Vaughn, former Navy SEAL, was friends with a dude who said, “Samesies.”

  Dear Miller,

  I’m pretty much on a first name basis with Brenda at the post office. We can’t figure out why my letters are being returned. Not all of them, but the majority of them. Weird, right? Hopefully, this one will get to you.

  Totally not trying to be a bother but if you get a chance to write back or call, you have no idea how awesome that would be. I freaking miss you so much.

  I hate to cut this short but I have to run. I have tutoring to do before my first class.

  I love you so much and miss you like crazy.

  You’re it for me. Always.

  Tate

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I’M TOTALLY TALKING YOUR EAR off, right?”

  Pearce’s question jarred Tate from her wayward thoughts. Thoughts which had somehow ended up drifting to Miller Vaughn, yet again. Ugh. She was so frustrated and … so utterly irritated with herself. She had to figure out a way to get past this if he was going to be present for their outings. She couldn’t let him disrupt everything in her life, for God’s sake.

  Her gaze met Pearce’s, his brown eyes alit with humor, mouth quirked in a slight smile. “Sorry. I guess I’m just nervous.” Cocking his head to the side, he added, “I really like you, Tate. But I have to be honest, I’m cautious about crossing the line in any way with a coworker, you know?”

  She nudged his shoulder with hers, noting that she felt less tense with his admission. Because she could totally respect where he was coming from. It did have the potential to become awkward or messy if things didn’t work out.

  “I hear you. And I wholeheartedly agree. How about we make a pact to not let things get weird? To truly be adults about everything. Regardless of what may or may not happen.”

  Pearce’s lips formed a wide smile as he held out his hand for her to shake. “Deal.” As she slid her hand into his large, firm one, she smiled back in agreement.

  And completely ignored the fact that she felt absolutely no zing, no electricity, no nothing when their hands met.

  Unlike a certain someone else from her past.

  * * *

  What the fuck was that dude doing holding Tate’s hand? And smiling down at her like that? Like something out of a cheesy movie?

  “You do realize you’re running the risk of that bottle busting beneath your grip, right? It could get messy and no one likes a bloodbath in a karaoke bar, dude.” Doc was watching Miller with raised eyebrows, looking like he was barely restraining a grin.

  Cutting a sharp look at his friend, he casually loosened his grip on the beer bottle. “Nothing to worry about here, man.”

  Doc leaned in. “Quick question for you. Does that,” he gestured to Miller’s grip on the bottle, “have anything to do with the dude chatting up Ted?”

  Miller’s dark glare didn’t appear to faze Doc as his friend leaned back in his chair, grin becoming wider. “That’s what I thought.” He crossed his arms, studying Miller intently for a moment. “You just going to let it happen?”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  Leaning in toward him once again, his friend eyed him. “You know exactly what I’m saying, Vaughn. Are you going to let that,” Doc discreetly tipped his head in the direction of Tate and Pearce, “happen? You’re going to let some other dude poach on your woman?”

  Miller opened his mouth—a sharp, cutting response ready—but snapped it closed abruptly. Shaking his head, he knew it was fruitless to even consider trying to bullshit his buddies. These men knew him, inside and out.

  Giving a weary sigh, he ran a hand through his dark hair. “She hasn’t been my woman in a very long time,” came his subdued response.

  Doc shrugged. “Doesn’t mean she’s not still yours.” His eyebrows lifted. “I mean, let’s be real here. If she weren’t still yours somehow, you would’ve gotten that tat removed—or corrected—a long ago.”

  Miller blinked. He ran a hand over his face with an inward groan. Fuck Doc’s damn Dr. Phil comment. Leave it to his newly single friend to lay some deep shit on him. And in a karaoke bar, no less. That wasn’t the real pisser, though. The real pisser was that Doc was right.

  So. Fucking. Spot. On.

  Foster, who had stepped outside to take a call, slid back into his seat at their table, phone in his hand. “Hey, guys,” he greeted them. Leaning his thick, muscled forearms on the table, he looked at them expectantly.

  “I sense I missed some good shit.” Foster’s eyes bounced to each of them, pausing briefly on Miller. Tossing a quick glance toward the dance floor where Tate, Pearce, and the others were dancing, his eyes settled on Kane. “Fill me in.”

  Kane began. “Well, we found out that Pearce is a former PJ—”

  “—with a titanium leg that Windham just about humped,” Doc interjected with wide grin.

  Not appearing the least bit bothered by his friend’s remark, Kane shrugged. “It’s a pretty badass leg, man.”

  “Wait,” Foster held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that that guy,” he pointed to the dance floor where Pearce was twirling a laughing Tate, “was a PJ? And has a titanium leg?” He stared at Pearce for a moment before turning back to the guys. “No fucking way.”

  “What’s this about a PJ?” They all turned in surprise at the question posed … in a female voice. Well, everyone appeared surprised except for Foster. He merely smiled and gestured to one of the available chairs nearby them. The rest of the men turned their heads in unison, watching as a brunette took a seat. But this wasn’t just any brunette. This was one fierce looking woman; one whose eyes seemed like they held secrets, like she knew she could easily take on the world with her bare hands … and had done so on more than one occasion.

  “Good to see you again,” she greeted Foster.

  He nodded to each of them as he began introductions. “That’s Mac, Doc, and Vaughn. And Windham, who happens to be the odd man out. He’s the former Green Beret.”

  Smiling at the guys, Foster tipped his head in the woman’s direction. “Meet Langley Ford, former PJ and,” he paused for a moment, “your new coworker.”

  Whoa. Not only was this woman a former PJ but she was going to be working with
them? Knowing Foster and his requirements, she had to be on the up and up. He didn’t hire just anyone. Ford had to have some pretty damn impressive credentials.

  Interested, Miller leaned forward. “So, you’re a former PJ?”

  With long, brown hair which seemed perfectly straight, tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail, it accentuated her high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes, which reminded him of a shade of chocolate brown, lit up the instant he mentioned “PJ”.

  “That’s right. 24th Special Operations Wing,” she answered proudly.

  Kane appeared impressed. “Damn. I don’t reckon I’ve ever met a female PJ.” He reached out a fist for her to bump. “Rock on with your bad self, Ford.”

  Her lips curved up, ever so slightly, going on to explain. “I was part of the first experimental integration of women into Special Forces.”

  Foster chimed in, “And the only one out of twenty-six total female applicants who succeeded.” He looked at his new employee with pride. “And recipient of the Air Force Cross.”

  Doc nodded, looking equally impressed while Langley fidgeted under all the attention. “Well done, Ford.” They were all aware that each of the “Cross” awards were second only to the Medal of Honor and were awarded for acts of extraordinary heroism.

  Giving him a brief nod, she said, “Appreciate it.”

  “Hey,” Miller tossed a hand in the direction of where Pearce was dancing with Tate, “you should have a chat with Pearce. He’s a former PJ, as well.”

  He’d casually mentioned it on the off chance she and Hadley might hit it off. Might become friends. They might even become something more than friends.

  Translation: Hadley and Langley would date and that would leave Tate single.

  Yeah. That’s where his thoughts lay tonight. On putting up roadblocks on Tate’s dating prospects. He’d officially sunk to an all new low.

  Doc stood. “Who needs a drink?”

  Miller and Foster declined while Mac and Langley requested waters.

  “You paying, darlin’?” Kane asked Doc, batting his eyelashes.

  “Only if you put out later.”

  “Done.” Kane grinned. “Another beer, please, love muffin.”

  Without hesitation, Doc answered, “You got it, pookie bear.”

  “God, I love that man.” Kane’s eyes followed Doc’s retreating form as he headed to the bar. “He just gets me, right here,” he patted over his heart, “ya know?”

  Mac rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Welcome to the group, Ford. Never a dull moment to be had around these yahoos.” He waved his hand to encompass the other men.

  Spotting the rest of their group rejoining them at their table, Miller’s eyes were again drawn to the petite blonde walking toward him—er, them—the blue dress flowing over her body in a caress. His fingers twitched with the desire to slide his hands over the length of her body, over her curves, to see if she felt like he remem—

  “Tone down the eye-fucking, dude,” Kane muttered beside him.

  Tearing his eyes away from Tate, he watched as Pearce’s step faltered, the first time any of them had seen the man maneuver himself in any way less than fluidly. He watched as Tate immediately reached to grasp Pearce’s arm as if to steady him even though the man was more than twice her weight and at least a head taller. And Miller hated that he inwardly flinched at the exact moment Tate had reached for the other man.

  Because it wasn’t him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “HEY, TATE?”

  “Yes, Raine?” Tate answered, patiently, as her tipsy friend looped an arm through her own.

  Raine leaned her head against her shoulder as they walked to the parking lot after leaving Shenanigans. “Did you know that the dog days are over?” Her friend burst into giggles, mentioning a Florence and The Machine song they had sung earlier in the evening.

  Shaking her head with a smile, she patted Raine’s dark hair gently. “Yep. I’m pretty sure we had to ‘shake it out’.”

  “Niiiicely done, Donnelly.” Laney had caught up with them, looping an arm through Raine’s. Looking at their friend, she quirked a brow. “Had more than two vanilla vodka and Cokes, huh?”

  With an exaggerated sigh, Raine answered, “Yeah. I think they made them stronger, though.”

  Laney met Tate’s eyes and they shared a look, knowing their friend was a notorious lightweight when it came to holding her liquor … or lack thereof. They escorted her to Mac’s truck, the guys following shortly behind them.

  Tate heard Zach ask, “You ladies realize why we always trail after you, right?”

  Laney’s answer was immediate. “Duh. Because you enjoy the view, of course.”

  “Damn straight, gorgeous,” came his response and Laney’s lips curved into a wide smile.

  Hey, gorgeous, have I told you yet today how much I love you? Tate brushed off the sudden memory of Miller once uttering those words. Seeing Laney so content, so in love and finally in a serious relationship—and with Zach Mayson, no less—made her beyond happy. She was thrilled her friends had overcome obstacles and miscommunications to find happiness. It just sucked that all this love around her—first, Mac and Raine and now Laney and Zach—seemed to break the seal on all those long forgotten memories.

  Long forgotten? Ha, an internal voice mocked her.

  “Dude. Can we not talk about my sister’s ass?” Foster complained as they came to a stop where Mac’s truck was parked. “It’s bad enough catching you two making googly eyes at one another over dinner at my mother’s.”

  “Want to walk in front of me so I can check out and compliment your ass, Fos? Will that make you feel better, sweet pea?” Lawson offered.

  Foster’s hard glare didn’t faze their friend, as was the norm.

  “Sweet pea?” Mac repeated in a loud whisper, laughter apparent in his voice.

  Miller grinned. “I like it.” Folding his arms across his chest, surveying Foster from head to toe, he nodded. “Yep. Totally suits him. He’s definitely a sweet pea.”

  Foster fixed his steely gaze on Miller. “Go ahead, Vaughn.” With an evil smirk, he added, “I’m sure you’ll want to talk all about your little froggy’s name.”

  Tate’s eyes darted from Miller to Foster in confusion. Miller had a pet frog? She watched as the men did that whole silent communication thing. Finally, it appeared Miller conceded, his piercing blue gaze narrowed on Foster in irritation.

  “Can we go home now, Callum?”

  Everyone’s head whipped around at Raine’s softly spoken question. Tate bit her lip to hold back the grin itching to form. Not many people knew Mac’s first name … nor did they know that it was what he liked for Raine to call him. In the bedroom. Which meant one thing. Their girl was ready for some ‘bow chica wow wow’ time.

  “Oh, Cal— Ouch! What the hell, dude?” Lawson exclaimed after getting a “light” slap upside the head from Foster.

  “You don’t get to call him that. Ever.”

  Lawson raised his hands in surrender. “Sheesh. Got it, dude. But seriously, that slap probably gave me a concussion.” Rubbing the back of his head gingerly, he mumbled, “Damn SEALs and their violence.”

  “Drive safe. Nice meeting you.” Langley shook hands with Mac before turning to look at Pearce, giving him a nod. “It’s nice to be in the company of another PJ.”

  “Likewise, Ford.” Pearce smiled, reaching out to shake her hand.

  Mac did the whole guy handshake-slap on the back thing with the others, saying his good-byes to everyone, before he got Raine safely buckled in the truck. With a final wave, he got in the driver’s side, fastened his seatbelt, and drove off.

  “So, Miss Langley Ford. You have anyone special waiting at home?” Lawson’s question caught them all by surprise. Turning to look at her friend, Tate noticed he appeared more serious than usual.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Are you interested?”

  Oh, my. Tate couldn’t suppress a grin at Langley’s no nonsense response. S
he was clearly not one to mince words. But, Tate figured that went with the territory of working alongside men for years on end, especially in intense, high-stress environments.

  Lawson appeared to take it in stride, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe. Why?” Mimicking her narrowed gaze, he asked, “Are you interested?”

  “In the hair product you use? Yes. Otherwise, no. I don’t have a thing for beards.”

  Her friend’s lips curved into a wide grin. “But Miss Langley Ford, with all due respect, you’ve never felt my beard.” He stroked the neatly trimmed beard and said in a loud whisper, “Trust me. Once you go beard, you never go back.”

  Collective groans sounded from the rest of them.

  Foster had a pained look. “Laws. Dude. Stop harassing my new hire.”

  Their friend held up his hands in surrender. “No harassment here. Just friendly chatter.” Head cocked to the side, eyes wide in innocence, he asked, “Unless I’m poaching on your territory, that is?”

  Foster’s lips parted to give a negative answer when Kane spoke up, “Hell, no. His ‘territory’ is a few miles down the road in the form of a saucy blonde office manager with a smart mouth.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Foster stared at Kane in disbelief, before giving a disgusted grimace. “Hell, no.”

  “Methinks someone doth protesteth too much.” Lawson stood, looking on with a cheeky grin.

  Foster pointed a finger at Lawson and said in a low, dangerous tone, “Don’t.”

  “Your sexy, growly voice turns me on so much. You know that, right?”

  Miller clasped a hand on Lawson’s shoulder, leaning close. “Dude. You have a death wish or something?”

  Kane let out a chuckle. “Laws, I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He reached out to exchange a fist bump.

  Lawson drawled in a horrible imitation of Kane’s southern accent, “You reckon we’ll be best buds, now?”

  Kane threw his head back in a laugh. “Oh, Laws. I reckon so, man.”

  Tate realized that Laney and Zach had been absent from the conversation taking place. Turning to see what was keeping them so quiet, she realized that they were a few feet away. Standing beside Zach’s classic Chevelle, Laney was looking up at her boyfriend as he spoke to her, reaching out to tenderly glide a finger along the curve of her cheek. Her friend’s face held a softness to it that had been absent until she’d finally allowed herself to love, to give her heart to Zach.