Scrolling to the last picture, my nostrils flared and I groaned. Frankie was standing in front of a helicopter wearing a tactical vest with a gun belt slung across his waist, cargo pants and shirt in muted shades of gray and beige. The stoic hard-jawed look on his face would have admittedly been ridiculously attractive if he wasn’t— “In the fucking military,” I scoffed under my breath.
