Bring Me Home For Christmas. Робин Карр

him.

       Becca!

      What the hell? Denny stood behind the bar, next to Jack, his mouth hanging open. She lifted her chin and smiled at the gathering.

       Rich gave a lame shrug.

       God, she sure hadn’t gotten any worse looking, Denny thought. Five-seven, slim, large blue eyes. Her sun-streaked hair was pulled back in a clip that left it flouncing in large, loose curls on the back of her head with little wisps around her face. She was tanned, of course. She was a beach bunny. The memory of how she looked in a very tiny bikini came instantly to Denny’s mind, although those long legs and perfect butt sure did justice to a pair of jeans and boots.

       He was in a complete daze. Except for the physical response. He was so glad he was standing behind the bar.

       Smiling, she walked around her brother and approached the bar. She barely looked at Denny. “Hi,” she said, putting out her hand first to Troy. “I’m Becca, Rich’s sister. I hope I’m not intruding.”

       Dirk and Troy knew of Becca, but they’d never actually met her. Troy took her hand and a smile slid slowly across his face. “Not. At. All,” he said smoothly.

       She grinned at him as he hung on to her hand. “Bet you have a name,” she said.

       “Ah…yeah… I’ll think of it in a second….”

       “Troy,” Denny said impatiently. “His name is Troy.”

       “Nice to meet you, Troy.” She offered her hand to Dirk.

       “Dirk Curtis,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

       “Becca, what are you doing here?” Denny asked.

       She lifted one shoulder and tilted her head. “Well, I guess it’s going to be either duck hunting or fly-fishing—two things I’ve been dying to try. I need to expand my horizons a little bit. Thanks for including me.”

       “I didn’t include you.”

       “Rich said it would probably be okay, and thanks.” She looked between Dirk and Troy. “You guys don’t mind, do you?”

       “It’s a pleasure,” Dirk said.

       Troy leaned an elbow on the bar, his head on his hand. “I take it you don’t hunt or fish?”

       “She surfs,” Denny said sharply, glowering.

       “And I sail, among other things,” she added pleasantly. “If you guys show me the hunting and fishing ropes, I’ll be glad to teach you to surf—I’m much better at it than Rich, although he might be a slightly better sailor. Don’t do anything different because I’m along—I’m just one of the guys on this trip. I promise not to get in the way.”

       “Right,” Denny said.

       “Seriously,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him.

       “You’re going to be sorry you said that when one of these clowns decides to pee on a bush,” he said snidely, lifting one eyebrow.

       A bark of laughter came from Colin Riordan, which marked the first time Denny remembered there were others present. Just a second after Colin’s laugh, a giant hand came down on his shoulder and Preacher said, “Give me a hand in the kitchen, would you, Den?”

       He treated her to one final, withering glare before following the big cook into the kitchen. Once there, he found himself face-to-face with a man who could easily top him for fierce, intimidating stares. Preacher said, “What the hell, Dennis! Were you raised by apes?”

       “She’s my ex-girlfriend, all right?” Denny said by way of explanation.

       “We got that,” Preacher said, his hands on his hips, his bushy black eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. “And your excuse for acting like an ass is…?”

       “It was complicated,” he said. “My mom died, I closed up and wouldn’t talk, shut Becca out when she wanted to help. Then, I rejoined the Corps and told her after the fact. About which she was very pissed. So I broke up with her before I deployed so she could date other guys while I was gone.”

       As he was finishing that tale, Jack entered the kitchen and got the last of it, but he didn’t need the details. He’d actually heard the story before. Now Jack wore his upside-down, contemplative smile, nodding. “Makes perfect sense,” he said.

       “It does?” Denny asked.

       “Of course. You can’t stand to even see her shake hands with another guy in a public bar, so you cut her loose to date someone else. Oh, yeah. Brilliant.”

       “It was not a smart time in my life,” he admitted. “After my two-year commitment, I went straight to her and apologized, asked if maybe we could try again.”

       “And she said?” Jack asked.

       “I believe the direct quote was ‘Dream on.’ We argued a little bit and she told me I’d been replaced, that she’d probably be engaged in a year. That’s when I decided to come up here. Start over.”

       “Well, don’t look now, Denny, but your past has followed you. You have to go out there and apologize. Again.”

       “Wait a sec, she shouldn’t have just dropped in like this, right on my—my—my whatever this is. She should’ve called. Or Big should’ve called!”

       “You seem to be the only one put out by her appearance,” Jack pointed out.

       “Rich didn’t look all that happy. And the other two? The only time they’re not on the prowl looking for chicks is when they’re asleep. I’m sure they’re thrilled to meet Becca.”

       “Then if it bothers you, I suggest you keep an eye on things,” Jack said.

       Denny stole a glance at Preacher, who gave a nod.

       “Starting with you having a word with Becca, see if you can sort things out enough to have a good week,” Jack said. “You can’t make everyone else miserable just because you have a bug up your ass about a girl. Call a truce or something. Whatever it takes.” And with that, Jack returned to the bar.

       What Denny really wanted to do was take off, out the back door.

       No, not true, he thought. What he’d rather do was walk back into the bar, grab her and kiss the hell out of her. And beat the crap out of anyone who tried to get between him and her.

       But he heard someone say Dream on inside his head. And the voice was hers.

       “That went well,” Becca said as soon as Denny stepped through the swinging door into the kitchen with Preacher. Jack quickly served Rich a beer and Becca a glass of wine before following Denny and Preacher.

       Becca took a breath and said to Troy and Dirk, “In case you missed the weird, shocked look on Denny’s face, we used to date.”

       “They know, Becca,” Rich said. “We were all in Iraq together, remember?”

       Troy was still leaning on his hand, elbow on the bar, gazing at her. “Believe me, I wasn’t looking at Denny,” he said.

       “I’m probably the last person he expected to show up….”

       “No,” Rich said, irritably. “Luke Skywalker was the last person. You were second to last.” He hefted his beer and took a long drink.

       “We didn’t part on the best of terms,” she explained. “But that was a while ago and we both told Rich there were no hard feelings.”

       “Because that’s what people say, Becca,” Rich explained impatiently. “I told you we should’ve called him first.”

       “Well, gee, it was last minute. Rich had been talking about this for weeks, I didn’t have anything to do.” She grinned. “I thought maybe some cold drizzle and the acrid smell of gunpowder might shake things up