“Julie, are you giving that handsome sergeant a problem?” A bottled redhead bopped from one end of the bar to the other, stopping in front of Danny.

He hadn’t needed his time overseas, in countless pubs, bars, and hotels, to know exactly what the older woman was. He didn’t need her name tag, which read Bunny, to explain what she was looking for. Her tight clothes, Aqua Net-sprayed hair, shellacked face, and overzealous smile told her whole story. She was a MiliSnag—a woman who did whatever she could to snag a military man. From the looks of her, she’d snagged and bagged more than her fair share of men in uniform. He could practically see the DNA of the soldiers past lingering on the older woman’s overexposed skin.

“Sorry, honey, she’s still new here, friendly and all, but”—Bunny pushed herself up over the counter, the move accentuating her ample cleavage and wafting cheap perfume up his nose—“she doesn’t know what men like you really need.”

“Well, Bunny, being as you can clearly read me,” he flirted, knowing her pour would be more generous if he was kind, “I bet you can tell the only things I need tonight are whisky, beer, and my thoughts.” He leveled her with a smoldering glance that made women swoon. “You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

“Oh, sure. I love to serve a man who serves our country. I’ll keep ‘em coming, handsome, and I’ll also keep an eye on you. Just call if you need me.” Bunny batted her false lashes before pouring him another shot and a mug of beer. Her toothy smile tried for innocence in a way that would make her namesake happy but reminded Danny of a fox in soft rabbit fur instead.

No matter. He slammed back the warm amber liquid before reaching for the cold beer. Tonight was about remembering and then…once again, letting go.

***

UHHG, EACH SHIFT was the same damn story. Julie watched her manager throw herself at every uniformed male who walked through the door. Julie had only been employed at Chester’s Pub a handful of months, but it was five months of long hours and, often times, back-breaking work. Double shifts tended to be that way—at least they were for Julie. After her first week, when Chester had kept a close eye on her, her boss kept irregular hours, popping in and out during the day. He always returned around closing time to cash out the drawer and close up the joint. Which left Bertha, a.k.a. Bunny, in charge of the staff. The woman could sell drinks almost as well as she sold herself, but a manager she was not.

Aside from Bunny and Julie, there were two female bartenders and two male bar-backs. Problem was, Bunny spent more time hopping on the bar-backs than helping out with the work. Therefore, aside from the revolting soundtrack of grunts and giggles, Julie was on her own to set up each day. Usually Bunny would assist a patron home—customer service, she called it—before the bar closed, leaving the remaining staff to cleanup. Chester didn’t seem to care if Bunny was around as long as the bar was shut down correctly. A fine woman Ms. Bertha was. Julie swallowed the sour taste that seemed to follow thoughts of her manager.

Whatever, if she’s what guys want… Julie shrugged, sparing one last look at the beautiful man at the end of the bar. Upon first glance, she wouldn’t have guessed him to be like so many men she’d met before. There was something about him, something different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was obviously wrong if he was willing to flirt with Bunny. Julie had been wrong before. Hell, in the past year and a half, she’d been wrong more often than she’d been right. Stay in the present, Julie. Work hard, make money, and move on.

The evening passed in a flurry of pulled beers, poured shots, loud music playing from the jukebox, and the ruckus of men and women out to unwind. While a good portion of the customers were from Fort Meade, Chester’s also brought in a bunch of civilians, both men and women.

Julie had been tending bar since she turned eighteen, but Chester’s was the first establishment where the clientele were men and women who served the United States. That was one of the reasons she chose to work at the bar even if Bunny came with the position. After everything she’d been through, the thought of being around so much bravery, so much strength and courage, made it easier to get up each morning. She wasn’t looking to “bed” a person in uniform, but if she could absorb some of their fortitude through osmosis… hell, she’d work her fingers to the bone just to be in their presence.

Around closing time, Bill, the cute new hire, set three cases of beer he’d just brought in from the storage room on the bar so he could restock the fridge. “Hey, Jul, have you seen Bunny? She said she’d give me a ride at the end of the shift...”

“Didn’t she give you one before your shift started?” Julie deadpanned.

“Umm…” At least the guy had the decency to look chagrinned. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. He shrugged, chest puffed out with male pride. “She wanted me. Who am I to say no, right?”

Wrong again, Julie. Wrong. Again.

“Well, slick, looks like that was the only ride you’ll be getting from Bunny tonight, because she left about ten minutes ago to escort a customer home.” She would have laughed at the baffled look on Bill’s face had it not seemed so genuine. “Don’t feel too bad. You may have had a chance if your shirt had stripes instead of letters.”

“What?”

“Bunny prefers them in uniform, Bill. You haven’t noticed?”

The young guy’s glare conveyed more than words would have.

“Ahh, you did know, but you thought you’d be different.” A pang of sympathy washed over her as she chose her words delicately. “I’ve only been here for a few of months, so feel free to disregard what I’m about to say, but some people are looking to fill glasses that are cracked. Doesn’t matter how much they pour, theirs will always be half empty because they choose to keep a damaged cup instead of taking a chance with a brand-new one.”

“Are you talking about Bunny?” he asked quietly, his brow lifted.

Julie stared at the guy, young just like her but obviously open to hearing what she was offering. “I don’t know, Bill. Am I?”

Leaving him to stock the beer, Julie walked to the other end of the bar. Last call had been announced before Bunny’s departure, so Julie was just squaring away tabs, calling cabs, and serving water to those in need. The sexy sergeant had remained planted on his stool for hours, leaving only to use the restroom. She’d watched him as he walked, telling herself it was to make certain he was tolerating his alcohol, but that was a lie. The truth was, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him no matter how hard she tried—not that she’d tried very hard.

He hadn’t even noticed her prying eyes. In fact, he’d barely seemed to notice any of the many women vying for his attention. They would send him drinks, and he’d send them a crooked grin of gratitude. But each and every time a woman took the next step and approached him, Julie noticed the interaction swiftly ended with the woman nodding, smiling agreeably, and retreating to her friends. In the nearly two years that she’d been working in bars—first waitressing, then bartending—Julie had never seen such charming rejection.

“For a man who’s been drinking most of the night, your tab is pretty light.” Julie slid his bill across the bar with a smile.

“Thanks.” The man accepted the slip of paper and raised his eyes to hers. Even though his hazel eyes were rimmed in red, his gaze was no less powerful, no less haunted.

She should have felt ashamed of the sexual awareness that spiked through her body at the sight of the clearly tortured man. Should have. But when he stood from the stool and dug his hand into his uniform pants and pulled out folded bills, Julie knew it was time to speak or forever hold her peace.