“Derrick,” I called out.
Beside me, Sabrina clicked away on her phone camera, but I was only marginally aware of anything other than Derrick’s face as he spotted me. He didn’t smile, but his eyes went wide and locked with mine. If this had been a movie, the music would have swelled right then, a beautiful crescendo, and I wanted to memorize every note so I could use this moment later. I’d never experienced anything quite like the energy arcing between us.
And then his purposeful strides carried him closer. His gaze intensified, if such a thing were even possible, equal parts terror and excitement in his expression. Or maybe that was all me, the way my legs shook and my back sweat.
I had to swallow hard simply to get enough spit to speak. “Welcome home.”
Chapter Three
Derrick
Arthur turned out hot. That was my first thought when I spotted him after I heard my name called. Derrick. My actual name, not Fox, not Chief, and outside of Calder a couple of times, I hadn’t heard that name in months. And definitely not like that, all eager and excited and happy. On the sub, hearing my name inevitably meant that someone needed something right that minute, but the way Arthur said it didn’t inspire dread at all.
I’d already been caught up in the energy of the day. Homecoming day was always exciting, even if I didn’t usually have someone waiting. The whole crew was jostling about, getting into our dress whites, making sure everything from our cover to the chest candy of ribbons and medals to the gig line was perfectly straight. Getting chosen to be on deck as we came into port was an honor, one that I usually let others, especially those with kids, fight over, since there was still plenty to do belowdecks in preparation and support. As the chief sonar tech, I was responsible for working with the A-gangers from engineering and the operations department to help navigate us in. Adrenaline was contagious, and by the time my department was cleared to disembark, I had enough energy to rival the reactor that powered the sub.
And then I heard my name.
I recognized Arthur’s red hair right away. But the rest...
Wow. Arthur had grown hot. Still shorter than me and skinnier, but wiry now, each lean muscle defined under a thin white shirt and tight jeans. No signs of his ever-present too-big nerd-humor tees. Same startling green eyes as before, though, and a new, more chiseled jaw sporting the perfect amount of fuzz. He’d grown into his long regal nose, and the hair that had seemed to have a life of its own when he’d been a teen was sculpted now, this perfectly styled wave that made me want to mess it up. His hands, which had always seemed too big for the rest of him, were clutching a giant sign.
For me.
And for a second—a literal instant when our eyes met and time stopped—I forgot it wasn’t real. And in that moment, I wanted it to be. Someone smiling that broadly for me. Had Steve ever been so happy to see me? Hell, I wasn’t even sure the poodle my grandmother had let me keep had been that happy. Arthur just radiated pure joy. The kid was one hell of an actor.
“Welcome home.” Even his voice was different. Deeper. Sexier.
“Hey,” I said because I was simply that brilliant at conversation. I reached an arm out, instinctively going for a handshake, but Arthur shifted his sign and met me partway, coming in for a hug.
A really tight hug.
Damn, he felt good. Amazing really. Solid muscle against me, hair tickling my nose, exactly as silky as it looked, strong arms able to haul me in and hold me tight. He smelled like mint and green tea, two things in short supply on a boat that tended to smell like old socks on a good day. Sweet. I inhaled deeply as his lips brushed my ear.
“Calder said to kiss you,” he whispered. “And I want to. But you gotta tell me you’re good with that first.”
Was I good with that? Hot guy who smelled like a concoction I wanted to drink every day for a month wanted to kiss me. And ordinarily, the friendship code would put Arthur far, far off-limits, but here was Calder telling us to kiss. It was a free pass, the sort I’d be a fool to turn down.
I wasn’t a fool.
And what harm could a peck do?
“Yeah.” My voice was a rough whisper, and I didn’t have a chance to brace myself before Arthur was sliding his mouth over from my ear to mouth. A double shot of tequila would have had less punch than the first brush of contact.
And okay, not a peck.
We were kissing. Arthur and I, which should have been weird but somehow wasn’t. At all. Someone whooped behind us, but almost all of my attention was riveted on Arthur, like I was on watch and every sense was heightened lest I miss something vital.
Like how soft his lips were. Full too. Or the bristle of his scruff against my cheek. I’d done a submarine shave that morning, not my best job, but close enough that the rasp of beard felt electric. Our chests were pressed so tightly that I could feel his heart pounding. Or maybe that was mine, blood zooming to places that had been in deep freeze for months.
“Wow.” Arthur pulled back, leaving me dazed and still clinging to him.
“Damn.” The statuesque purple-haired woman he’d been standing with laughed loudly and thumped Arthur’s shoulder. “Is that the best you can do? Your man has been at sea how many months?”
Your man. If only. If he were actually mine, we’d be racing across base, a mad dash to find a room with a door. But he wasn’t and all we’d ever have was this moment. A potent mix of want and resolve raced through me as suddenly I was determined to make this count.
I pulled him back to me, and this time when our mouths collided, I was ready. Ready to taste. Ready to absorb every single detail. Ready to seize control and kiss like the world might be ending.
And it could have. Not sure I would have noticed. Everything faded away. The crowd. The docks. The balloons Arthur had been clutching and his sign both as his strong hands clung to my shoulders as we kissed in earnest. He tasted like he smelled, sweet and minty, and his tongue against mine was like floodlights coming on.
“Welcome home,” Arthur breathed against my mouth as the sound of applause gradually pulled me back into awareness of our surroundings. Applause. Whoops of laughter. Clicking cameras. But still I couldn’t seem to look away from him.
“Your balloons escaped.” Arthur’s friend was laughing harder now.
“So they did.” Arthur turned his gaze skyward where the colorful balloons were racing to the heavens.
“And posted! Man, this video is so going viral.” The friend made a triumphant gesture.
“Wait. Video? Viral?” Shaking my head, I tried to clear my muddled brain, but before I could I heard my name again, more urgent this time.
“Arthur! Derrick!”
Stomach cramping, I slowly turned my head, like that could delay the inevitable. Sure enough, though, Arthur’s parents—two people I had mad respect for, especially his retired master chief father—strode toward us with huge eyes.