Finding Frankie [Mech Warrior 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) by Stormy Glenn

Author:Stormy Glenn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Published: 2014-05-12T16:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Frankie groaned and swatted at whoever was shaking him. It was too fucking early. He could tell that without even opening his eyes. He was too tired to get up. He needed like a million years more sleep.

“Frankie, baby, you need to wake up. We have to go.”

Frankie frowned. “Roark?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I need you to get up and get dressed. We need to leave. Foster spotted some mechs headed our way.”

Frankie gasped as his eyes popped open and he jackknifed into a sitting position. “It wasn’t a dream?”

Roark sighed. “No, baby, it wasn’t a dream.”

“Damn,” Frankie groaned as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He had really been hoping it had all been a dream because reality sucked. He looked up at Roark, wondering how anyone could look that together this early in the morning. “I don’t suppose you have coffee in that magic bag of yours.”

Roark’s lips twitched. “Sorry, baby. But I do have some clean clothes for you to change into.”

“What?” Frankie blinked rapidly. “You mean I can’t just run around naked?”

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Roark winked. “But the mechs get really offended.”

“Oh, right.” Frankie rolled his eyes. “We wouldn’t want to offend the mechs.”

Roark chuckled. “Come on—get up. You have about five minutes to make yourself presentable before we need to leave.”

Frankie snorted as he reached for the pile of clothes Roark held out to him. “I don’t know if you remember or not, but it takes me a lot longer than five minutes to get ready for anything. Hell, I can’t even take out the trash without primping in the bathroom for at least an hour.”

Frankie shook out the pile of clothes Roark had handed him then gasped. “What the hell are these? I do not look good in olive drab and mustard-print camouflage. It looks like someone threw up cocktail olives on this shit.”

Frankie snarled when Roark ruffled his hair. He was not a morning person, never had been. Roark should know that. They had woken up beside each other often enough.

“You’ll live,” Roark said.

Despite his grousing, Frankie understood the danger and quickly dressed. He was a little surprised that the outfit Roark had given to him fit him like a glove. He knew for a fact that no one in Roark’s unit was his size. They were all bigger—much bigger.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Not quite yet,” Roark said. “You’re missing just one accessory to make your outfit complete.”

Frankie cocked an eyebrow.

Roark smirked as he walked over and buckled a gun belt around Frankie’s waist, and then dropped a gun into it. He also added several ammo clips to the belt. “Now, you are ready to go.”

“This is an accessory?”

“Better than earrings.”

“Says you,” Frankie snorted. Secretly, he was pleased that Roark trusted his ability enough to arm him, especially considering the situation they were in. And as much as he hoped that he wouldn’t need it, he wasn’t stupid. He had to be able to protect himself.

Roark couldn’t babysit him forever.

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