SEAL Forever by Anne Elizabeth Page A

Maura. “To unrequited love.”
    Unable to chew and drink at the same time, Maura swallowed the lump, feeling it scrape her throat as it made its way down. Lifting her glass, she smiled weakly at Minnie and then drained the glass, giving her the ideal excuse to get up and leave the table—and thus the conversation—for the rest of the event.
    * * *
    When the highlight of the evening was walking down the street, it was an unfortunate night. Maura was just happy to be away from the loud party.
    Sitting on a bar stool, rubbing her feet, was not how Maura thought she would end her experience with Bosco. Being groped, having drinks spilled on her, and having drunk guys hit on her had pretty much sucked sewage water.
    Maura was glad she’d followed her instincts and walked away from the event. So she’d hoofed it as far as McP’s Pub and then gone in for a stiff belt. The smell of alcohol surrounded her like a heavy perfume.
    A rather handsome older man with a thick muttonchop mustache was behind the bar. He smiled at her, a friendly sort. “What’ll you have?”
    â€œWhiskey. Something good and old,” she answered, knowing that she might regret it in the morning, and yet there was no way she’d make it home without it. She was too frugal to pay for a cab.
    He raised his eyebrows and then grabbed a bottle from the top shelf. He poured three fingers into a glass and placed it in front of her. “Tough night?”
    She put her shoe back on, picked up the drink, and sipped it, allowing the fiery amber to burn a path down to her gut. Relief flooded her veins, and she looked up at the bartender. “Confusing,” she admitted. “I went out on a date that I didn’t want to go on, just to have something to do.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Confusing. I’m Gich.” He shook her hand. “Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
    â€œIt wasn’t,” she agreed. “Strange name for a bartender, Gich.”
    He tossed back a belt of whiskey and came around and sat down next to her. “I’m not a bartender. Just watching the place while Ken hits the head—uh, visits the facilities.”
    She laughed. “Thanks for the good stuff. What do I owe you?”
    â€œNothing, until he comes back, that is.” He tipped more whiskey into his own glass and topped hers off. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, and his beefy frame was slightly smaller than Declan’s, yet Gich reminded her of him. “What brings you out tonight? Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
    â€œI’m not much for visiting bars or clubs.” She tossed back the entire shot. Her throat screamed in protest as she tried to make her lungs work. Finally, she let out a few shallow breaths and coughed.
    â€œSo I see. Though you’re obviously changing that tonight.” He went to pour her another shot, but she covered the glass.
    â€œWater, please.”
    He signaled to one of the passing waitresses, who brought two glasses of water to them.
    After she’d drunk a half of a glass and cooled her throat off, she said, “I’m a social disaster waiting to happen.”
    â€œHow so?” His large hands cupped his water glass, playing with the condensation on the outside. “What are you running from?”
    â€œMyself.”
    He nodded his head. “Makes sense.”
    â€œIt does?” Maura looked at him curiously. “I often talk before I think, I’m impulsive, and I don’t like being ignored.”
    â€œWho isn’t, at times? We’re human. No one is perfect. But there’s a trick to understanding emotional action.” He pointed to the spot over her gut and then to her heart. “You have to know the insides of yourself—your gut instinct—before you can do any act of importance. It’s not going to serve your world to just run about haphazardly when you can actually have a