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 f**k 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 f**k 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 f**k’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 ass**le 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?”
Fortunately, nobody argued, and a few minutes later, the only heat Cash got was that of the sun’s rays beating down on his head and shoulders. He zoned out as his sneakers slapped the wet sand, drawing in the scent of salt and sweat on each inhale.
They ran their usual four miles. The only sounds breaching the comfortable silence were the thud of sneakers on sand and the squawking of gulls overhead. Sweat rose on Cash’s bare chest, dripping down his forehead and sliding between his pecs. Jeez, it was hot out. Only nine thirty in the morning, but he’d bet the temperature was somewhere in the eighties already, and climbing steadily. But it beat the desert climate of Phoenix, where the summers could be unbearable. And Coronado also had the ocean factor going for it—there was nothing he loved more than the salty spray of the Pacific misting his face as his feet whipped across the sand.
When they neared the beach’s northernmost point, they turned around and slowed their pace, making their way back to the main stretch. Ryan and Jackson paired off, jogging up ahead, while Cash found himself flanked by Dylan and Seth, both of whom were grinning like a pair of idiots.
“How’s the hands-off plan going?” Dylan asked with barely restrained amusement.
“Terribly,” Cash admitted. “That woman is determined to seduce me.”
Seth hooted. “Poor baby. A hot chick wants to screw you. Whatever will you do?”
He clenched his jaw. “Not her. I promised Carson I’d behave.”
“What Carson doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Seth said in a singsong voice.
Cash snorted. “Right, because it’s so easy to keep secrets in this group. I can recite all the women every single one of you has slept with. If I sleep with his sister, Carson will find out.”
“Not from us,” Dylan said.
Now Seth snorted. “No, you’re right,” he told Cash. “If Dylan knows, everyone will know.”
“Bull. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”