Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
But it was hard, especially when he and Spencer moved on to talking movies and TV and discovered that they both streamed a lot of the same series—they were both fans of imported police procedurals and of course various news shows and Spencer even got him to admit to liking some period dramas.
“Fucker. If that goes into your article—”
“It won’t. I have to blur the details. I’ll give someone else a love of all things BBC.” Spencer winked at him.
“You better.”
The loudspeaker crackled again. “Folks, we’re beginning our descent. Buckle up. And if you’re setting your watches, local time is eleven a.m. and remember we gained a day.”
Whoa. Somehow he and Spencer had talked most of the second half of the flight. That coffee must be magic juice or something. Spencer hadn’t seemed bored, though, hadn’t tried to go back to his writing.
Once they landed, they boarded a bus that took them to the barracks, which were conveniently located near the chow hall. He’d been to this base before, and the food was usually better than some places, but really, after twelve-plus hours in the air with only snacks, any sort of lunch would be awesome. He had to work to not audibly sigh with relief when the senior chief assigned him to room with Curly, as usual on these sorts of things. The LT had put Spencer next door. They’d share a bathroom, but at least his hormones could calm the fuck down because the temptation meter was much lower with Curly around as a chaperon. And it wasn’t like they’d be hanging out much in the rooms anyway. Chances were good that a lot of the coming days would be spent on a boat or just not sleeping period, so he needed to savor whatever rack time he got.
Curly blew by him as they exited the bus, leaving him to show Spencer to his room. Spencer, miraculously, didn’t look a bit rumpled from the long flight, and if he noticed Curly giving them attitude, he didn’t say anything, instead lingering in his doorway as he surveyed the narrow space. Bacon stood next to him, and the inches separating them felt both far too little and far too much.
“So...uh... I’ll just be next door.” His lips suddenly felt drier than the Arizona desert, and he couldn’t help licking at the dry patches. The moment felt weird after all that time on the plane talking. He guessed they were on friendly terms now. Yeah, that was it. They were friendly now. No need to focus on the weird crackling energy between them.
“Thanks. For everything. The coffee was nice.” Spencer smiled at him, and suddenly, Bacon was hyperaware of the bed right there behind him. It would be so damn easy to—
“Bacon. Do you want to shower first or what?” Curly stuck his head out of the bathroom door.
Heart pounding, his attention snapped to his friend. They hadn’t been doing anything, hadn’t even been flirting, and still guilt surged through him. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
Nothing. It would be so damn easy to do nothing.
* * *
“You’re going to like this.” Bacon returned to Spencer’s side outside the cafeteria with a huge grin. He had been talking to the team leadership after they had eaten lunch, and Spencer let himself have a moment of appreciating his wide grin and loping strides.
“Oh?” The afternoon tropical sun was bright and the humidity was even worse than Hawaii, cloying almost in its heaviness. He tucked his small notebook and pen away—he’d been making notes about the flight during lunch since no one seemed too inclined to speak with him.
“We’re taking a Mark V out for training. That’s a SEAL boat—it’ll hold all sixteen of us, plus the boat crew and you. You’re damn lucky. I don’t think a reporter has ever been on one before except maybe when they unveiled the prototype.”
“That sounds awesome.”
“LT says to take some anti-nausea meds. Even if you’re not prone to seasickness, things tend to get choppy on the Mark V. Be ready to move fast and be tossed around.” Bacon looked positively giddy at the prospect.
“I’ve been on boats plenty. My parents loved doing holidays in Hawaii. It’s where they retired to.”
“I’d still take the meds.” Bacon fished around in one of his pockets and came up with a packet of motion sickness pills. “This is way different than a fishing boat or pleasure yacht. We’re gonna pull some serious Gs. Last thing you want is turning green where the LT can see—he’ll take any excuse to keep you on shore.”
“Good point.” Spencer accepted two pills and took them dry.
“Hell. I would have found you some water.” Bacon sounded impressed. “But that’s a nifty trick.”
Spencer bit back an easy joke about how swallowing wasn’t an issue for him. “Thanks.”
“No way would my gag reflex let me do that.” Hell. Bacon was not making it easy on Spencer with openings like that.