“Oh. No. He sent her an email yesterday but she deleted it.”
“Why doesn’t she remove his address from her contact list?”
“She did, but he keeps creating those free accounts so she doesn’t know what to look for anymore. The spam folder usually catches them, but sometimes they wind up in her inbox.”
“This guy doesn’t give up, huh?” Ryan popped on his own shades, then rolled up his shirt and draped it around his neck.
As they strode across the sand toward the guys, Cash attempted to maintain the casual front, but inside he was annoyed as hell. It bugged him that Jen hadn’t been as troubled by the email as he had. He’d glanced over her shoulder and skimmed the message, and yeah, it had been more whiny than threatening, but he still didn’t like it. Brendan’s obsession with Jen didn’t seem to be waning, only increasing, and the more Cash got to know her, the more determined he was to keep her safe.
When she wasn’t trying to seduce him with skimpy outfits and sexual innuendo, she was actually pretty incredible. Smart, funny, entertaining. She’d even cooked him dinner last night—and then, once they’d decided that her burnt lasagna might give them food poisoning, she’d bought him dinner, which had been nice. Not that he was the kind of man who liked mooching off women, but once in a while it felt nice not to be the one pulling out his wallet.
The thought of Psycho McGee coming after Jen made his gut burn with anger. A part of him almost wished Brendan would make a move, just so Cash could have the pleasure of kicking the creep’s ass.
They reached Dylan and Seth, who hopped to their feet to exchange some heys and knuckle taps with the new arrivals. Jackson had yet to show, but that was no surprise. The Texan lived by his own clock and took his sweet-ass time in everything. Except on the field. There, Jackson epitomized efficiency; as the team medic, he got the job done with lightning speed and had saved all their asses countless times.
“FYI,” Dylan told them as he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, “I bought the CO’s kid those educational building blocks that were on the list, so don’t double purchase.”
“What the fuck are educational building blocks?” Ryan asked.
“Wooden blocks with words on them.”
Ryan looked mystified. “What kind of words?”
Dylan shrugged. “You know, like mom, dad, dog, bunny.” He rolled his eyes. “That way Miss Sadie can increase her vocabulary while she’s playing.”
“Pod person,” Ryan muttered under his breath.
Cash’s laugh died in his throat when he noticed Seth eyeing him. “What?” he demanded.
“I hear you have a hot new roomie,” Seth mocked.
“Yeah. It’s your mom,” he answered sweetly. “I can’t wait to fuck her.”
Ryan grinned.
Dylan chuckled.
“Screw you,” Seth retorted.
But the SEAL didn’t seem put off by the jab. Seth Masterson was used to the mom jokes constantly being lobbed his way. Hell, he had to expect it, seeing as his mother, Missy, was a bona fide Las Vegas showgirl. Seth, the lucky bastard, had pretty much been raised in a dressing room filled to the gills with half-dressed women. The dude had lost his virginity at the age of twelve, for fuck’s sake.
“How hot is the LT’s sister, exactly?” Seth inquired, running his hand over the dark stubble coating his jaw.
Cash didn’t think he’d ever seen the guy clean-shaven, but he’d witnessed firsthand just how much the ladies liked Seth’s scruffy badass-ness. Seth was definitely the bad boy of the group, a total asshole when he wanted to be, but he was also lethal as hell and someone you wanted watching your six on a mission.
“Hot,” Cash replied, albeit grudgingly.
“Very hot,” Ryan confirmed before fixing a frown on Seth. “But Carson’s got this thing about keeping his teammates away from his sister, so don’t get any bright ideas, Masterson.”
“Me?” Seth donned an innocent face. “I think you should be dishing out that advice to McCoy. According to Dylan, he’s already very acquainted with—”
“Sorry I’m late,” Jackson’s voice came from behind.
Saved by the Texan.
Cash glared at Seth as Ryan turned to greet Jackson, who’d shown up in sweatpants and a white T-shirt with the words “Don’t Mess with Texas” blazing across the front.
“Not a word,” Cash muttered.
Seth’s gray eyes gleamed, those mocking lips twitching. “Fine. But I want details later.”
Jackson strode up and slapped Cash’s shoulder. “I heard you’re shackin’ up with the LT’s little sister.”
He suppressed a groan. Why did everyone feel the need to give him heat about this? “Yes. I am. Now how about we quit gossiping like a bunch of preteens and get a move on?”