"What's wrong with that?" he asked.

"Your ribs are so good."

He grinned. "I'm still waiting for the problem."

"I just bought this shirt. It's the rule of ribs. New white shirts have no chance against them."

"You could go put on something else," Marco said under his breath.

Alyssa cut her gaze to him and arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing." He lifted his eyes to look at her.

Oh, his eyes. They were so light! The dark circles were nearly gone.

He frowned. "Why are you smiling?"

She shrugged and filled her plate with a few less-threatening dishes.

"Hey." Speaking softly, he leaned in to her. "Look at me."

Something about his tone made her obey. His face was so close she nearly gasped. Her senses were flooded with everything Marco-his scent, his bright blue eyes, the heat of his shoulder against hers. "What's the matter?"

"That's what I was going to ask," he said, his gaze searching hers.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You look...I don't know...tired or something."

"I'm fine." Alyssa dug into her lunch. "So." She glanced at Van and Eric. "Where's Tommy today?"

"He's around," Eric said. "Oh, I meant to ask, do you want a ride to the lake tomorrow?"

"Oh, um." She turned to Marco, who was back to frowning. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about that. Maybe?"

Eric glanced from Alyssa to Marco and back. "Well, just text me in the morning if you do. Can I have your number?"

"Sure." As she started reciting it, Marco pushed up from the table, his chair screeching on the tile. And then he was gone.

Heat suffused Alyssa's cheeks for reasons she couldn't articulate. "I was thinking about bringing my guitar tomorrow. Would that be dumb?"

"You play?" Van asked.

"Some. I'm not the greatest, but I'm okay."

"You should definitely bring it," Eric said, rising. "Hey, you should do open mic night some time."

"Oh, no. Like I said, I'm not great. I just play for fun."

Van rose and started collecting plates. "That's the best reason."

Alyssa swallowed her last bite and stood. "Need help with the green room today, Eric?"

He paused in the doorway, his gaze flashing to her legs and away again. "Uh, no. Not today. Band got here early, so..."

"Oh, okay."

"Later," he murmured as he left.

Alyssa headed out to the floor excited for tomorrow's trip. She could really use something fun and normal to distract herself from all of Marco's confusing intensity.

Marco arrived home after midnight. Late enough, he hoped, not to have to deal with that goddamn skirt anymore. As if watching her parade around in the damned thing wasn't bad enough, Eric had been drooling all over himself the whole night, and two assholes camped out at his bar had made half a dozen comments about Alyssa as she came and went with drinks. No way the men hadn't been all over her out on the floor. But he couldn't let himself go check. If he did, he knew some of the people who had come in on their own two feet wouldn't be going out that way.

As good as she'd looked today-and she had looked so damn good-his gut told him there was also something wrong. Her face had been pale and her eyes bloodshot, like she hadn't been sleeping. He knew what that shit was like. But what could be troubling her so much it was keeping her awake?

He paused outside the bedroom door and listened. Nothing. Wincing, he turned the handle and eased the door open. He could just make out her form curled around a pillow on the big bed. Man, what he wouldn't give to wrap himself around her, nose buried in her soft hair, and sleep until the sun forced them into consciousness...

Carefully, he closed the door and slipped into the hall bathroom to change.

He folded his clothes and stacked them on the back of the toilet, then stepped into a pair of navy sleep pants he'd been wearing since Alyssa arrived. Brushing his teeth, he studiously avoided meeting his own gaze in the mirror. Thoughts like the one he'd just had about Alyssa did nobody any damn good. Instead, his eyes settled on the remains of the bullet wound he'd gotten during his first tour in Afghanistan. They'd been on a recon mission and happened upon a lone insurgent hiding in the bush on the side of a cliff. The guy got off three shots before the team took him out, and one of those shots had done a hi-how-are-ya through Marco's shoulder. It missed all the important stuff but hurt like hell.

Even after it happened, he'd felt like he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do.

Now what was he doing? Tending bar. Renting a house. A house he hadn't bothered to furnish. Avoiding his parents. Avoiding everyone, really.

What was his damn purpose now?

Grumbling under his breath, Marco smacked the bathroom light switch and crossed the house to the futon. He sat heavily, a wide yawn giving his jaw a run for its money.

Maybe he'd win the sleep lottery again tonight and wake up in a better mood. He sure hoped so. Somehow, he'd have to act civilly while Alyssa wore that purple bikini in front of Eric, who very clearly had a thing for her. Not that Marco blamed him. But he didn't need to see that shit, especially with that suit leaving so little to the imagination.

Marco punched his pillow into place and leaned back, yanking the blanket up to his waist. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The pale yellow of heat lightning flashed against the wall above him. Marco stared, eyes unwilling to close as the storm approached. Some minutes later it arrived, sending down a gentle shower of rain against the roof above him. Finally, his eyelids drooped, the rain a lulling distraction that blocked out the noise between his ears.

The next time Marco opened his eyes, the room was bright, filled with a warm light that told him the day was already sunny. He was so unused to sleeping in-well, to sleeping much at all-that he was disoriented.

The smell of coffee reached his nose and had him looking around. He stood up and became immediately aware of his morning erection. Maybe it was basic male biology, or maybe it was the series of dreams that added that skirt to his little fantasy involving Alyssa bent over Betty. Either way, he wasn't fit to go in search of the source of that smell looking like he did.

Marco scrubbed a hand over his face and walked to the front window. His neighborhood was alive with activity. What time was it anyway?