“Yup.”
“I’ve got a couple bucks for a beer,” he said, quieter now. “I know I’m getting meals from Food For All, but I’m not broke.”
Ashlyn squatted next to his chair and put a hand on his leg. She spoke just as quietly, so everyone around them couldn’t overhear. But since Slate was standing right next to them, he was close enough to hear their discussion.
“I know you’re not. And honestly, even if you called to cancel the service tomorrow, I’d still keep showing up. I already told you, James, you’re like a grandfather to me. Giving you gifts isn’t an act of charity, it’s because I love you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re now a part of my family. And family doesn’t bitch when someone buys them a beer. In fact, you should be manipulating me into buying you more. Because that’s what family would do. Got it?”
It took a second for James to compose himself, but after a moment, he nodded. “Got it.”
“Besides…I didn’t buy your beer. Slate did. I opened a tab,” she whispered, winking at James. “And told the bartender my hunky boyfriend would be paying it off at the end of the evening.”
James chortled. “In that case…cheers!” he said, lifting his beer bottle and clinking it to Ashlyn’s huge-ass mai tai.
Slate pulled Ashlyn against his side as soon as she stood. He kissed her temple and whispered, “You’re amazing,” into her ear.
She beamed up at him.
“Come on, guys,” Kenna said, gesturing to everyone from a few steps down on the beach. “It’s almost time, and we need to get into place!”
“Go on,” Slate told her. “I’ve got James.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, soft and sweet, before grinning and hurrying to join her girlfriends.
James slowly stood next to Slate. “She’s beautiful,” the older man said.
Slate nodded. She was. She absolutely was. She wore a dark blue sundress that hugged her chest and hips, but blew around her calves in the sea breeze. She’d left her sleek, shiny hair down, and every now and then a few strands would blow across her face and she’d have to brush them back. She wasn’t wearing heels; they weren’t practical on the sand, and Carly wanted everyone to be casual and comfortable. Her toenails were painted a bright pink, which matched the flowers on the flip-flops she wore. Besides, she didn’t need heels. Ashlyn was the tallest of all her friends, perfect for his six-foot-two height.
As Slate took James’s elbow in his hand to steady him as they made their way down the few steps to the sand, he thought about how Ashlyn was perfect for him in just about every way. In the few months they’d been dating, he hadn’t once gotten so much as annoyed with her. Truly annoyed.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve been on the beach,” James mused.
Slate turned his attention from Ashlyn to the older man. “Heard you were quite the surfer back in the day.”
“I was,” James said without a hint of boasting. He was just stating a fact.
“You would’ve been a damn good SEAL,” Slate told him. He wasn’t just blowing smoke up the guy’s ass. He’d heard James’s stories about some of the things he’d done while in the Navy. And while he might not have been a SEAL, he’d certainly done some of the exact same things Slate and his team still did today.
There weren’t any chairs set up around the gazebo, everyone was just standing to watch Carly and Jag’s short ceremony. Ashlyn started to drag a beach lounge chair closer to the tent so James could sit, but Slate shook his head.
“He’s fine.”
“But—”
“He’s fine,” Slate said again, with a little more emphasis.
Ashlyn stared at him for a moment before nodding.
Slate did move into the shade of the gazebo with James, but he knew without having to ask that it would embarrass the veteran to be the only one sitting. He kept his hand on James’s elbow, giving him some support and making sure he didn’t accidentally fall over in the sand.
Everyone’s eyes turned to the steps leading down from the eating area at Duke’s as Carly and Jag started toward them. There was no real aisle, no music, and no bridesmaids or groomsmen. It was simply two people in love, coming together to pledge that love to one another in front of their friends.
Ashlyn snuggled up against Slate’s left side and hooked her arm through his, resting her head on his bicep. Slate felt James shift against him on his right, and he looked at the slightly stooped eighty-nine-year-old. The man was looking over at Ashlyn with a tender expression. Then he raised his gaze and met Slate’s.
He nodded in approval before turning his head to watch Carly and Jag once more. They approached Paulo, who’d agreed to officiate, and turned to face each other.
It was crazy how content Slate felt right at that moment. He knew in a few days’ time, he’d be sweating his ass off in Afghanistan, doing his best to kill insurgents before they killed him. But for now, he had the sand under his feet, the breeze blowing against his legs and arms, an amazing woman at his side, a man he respected a hell of a lot on his other side, and he was watching one of his best friends in the world marry the woman he loved.
Life was pretty damn good.
“Move, babe,” Slate ordered late that night.
They were in his bed, and Ashlyn was indeed drunk. She’d attacked him as soon as they’d gotten inside his house. He’d let her take the lead. And apparently, what she wanted was to be on top.
Not that Slate had any problem with that whatsoever. Except for the fact that she wasn’t moving fast enough for him. Ashlyn’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and all the dancing she’d done earlier. After Carly and Jag had said their I do’s and shared an entirely inappropriate kiss on the public beach, they’d all gone back into the restaurant and done their best to make a dent in all the food that had been prepared for them.
Then Ashlyn had joined Elodie, Lexie, Carly, and Kenna on the dance floor. Monica had mostly watched from the sidelines, saying that since she was pregnant, she couldn’t dance. Of course, the girls had only let that excuse go for so long before they had her up and dancing with them…albeit a little less boisterously.
Slate and the rest of his team had watched their women with amusement, making sure to claim them when the music slowed down. James observed everything from his chair in the corner with a smile on his face, perfectly happy to be out of his house and watching the merriment.
They’d driven him home, and Ashlyn had taken him inside, made sure he was good to go, then proceeded to make Slate crazy all the way to his house. Her hands roamed up and down his leg, brushing against his cock every now and then. She had a sly grin on her face, and the second he’d parked his car, she’d flung off her seat belt and straddled him right there in the car.
And now they were in his bed. Ashlyn was as bare as the day she was born, grinding slowly on his cock. Slate put his hands on her hips. The pleasure was almost too intense.
“Move,” he ordered once more.
Ashlyn seemed to be lost in her own world. A small smile lit her face as she used her inner muscles to grip his dick from deep within. “But I like this,” she argued. “You feel so good…”