SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) (7 page)

“I checked that one off my bucket list already and buried it deep. Not something I’ll ever need to try again, I’m proud to say.”

Grant took a couple of quick glances toward the guard, and then turned on his heel and retreated.

Megan assured the guard she was fine, and no, she didn’t want an escort later on. Ever since there had been a small fire in the men’s upstairs restroom a month ago, they were on the lookout for oddballs, and the store would pay for security to follow her home if she requested it.

When she took a break she looked into the bathroom mirror and studied her own eyes carefully. She knew what she had to do, and the decision was made right then and there. Even if it pushed him away further, she didn’t do the waiting thing very well. The sooner she could go on with her life, the better.

“Are you on your way?” she asked Lindsay by phone.

“No. Just picking up the dry-cleaning and then I’ll go home to get my things. Are you having a change of heart, Megan?”

“Sort of. But I have to ask you something first.”

“Shoot.”

“Does he know that you’ve invited me?”

“Brady knows. I mean, he knows I was going to ask you. He might tell Rory.”

Megan considered her options again, and decided to take a chance. “Don’t tell him I’m coming, okay?”

“No problem. And hey, if it comes to that, you can bunk with Brady and me. All the rooms have suites. That is, unless there are girls going.”

“Girls?”

“Sometimes they bring girls. You know, play dates.”

Megan flinched. She hadn’t considered this. “Do you…”

“Stop it. I have no idea, but since most of the guys are married, I’m guessing no.”

The sun was
beginning to set on the resort when Lindsay and Megan arrived. She was introduced to two of the other SEAL wives who came together in a red Jeep.

“Where’s your gear, doll?” Gina asked Lindsay. Gina’s gruff voice and commanding presence, all five-foot-three of her, had Megan thinking that perhaps she was military as well.

“Oh, we’re just staying the night, going home tomorrow. We’re not skiing, unless—” Lindsay shrugged her shoulders. “God, Megan, I forgot to ask you if you wanted to stay any longer to maybe ski, or do you snowboard?”

“No. I ski, but not this time. Maybe another.” Megan could barely stay on her feet, and definitely didn’t want to reveal her lack of coordination. The wives hoisted up their large black nylon bags and took to the wooden plank steps. Megan and Lindsay followed them.

The lobby was constructed of whole pine timbers with light almond colored wood plank flooring. A massive fireplace at one end of the lobby was entertaining a group of men sitting around drinking beer. When one of them, a handsome dark-haired gentleman who could have easily been a runway model, scooped Gina up in his arms, Megan looked the crowd over carefully. Rory’s sandy pelt was sticking out from his head in all directions like a wet Husky dog. He had sunk back into a dark brown leather couch and was staring at the fireplace, mesmerized.

Brady came over and gave his wife a kiss. “Hey, Rory. We got someone who wants to see you.” He finished his sentence in a singsong manner, which earned him a glare from Megan.

“Brady!” Lindsay admonished him. “You behave.”

Megan could see Brady was well on his way to being drunk. She watched as Rory turned slowly and looked in her direction. He said something she knew was some sort of swear word before he stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes were squinting, eyebrows tented, revealing deep forehead creases. She could see he wasn’t unhappy with her. But she could tell he was annoyed with Brady, and especially annoyed with Lindsay.

“Hey Megan.” He pulled his hands from his front pockets and held them up as if he was surrendering. “I’m kinda wasted here, and…and…and I didn’t know you were…they were going to bring you. Sorry. I’m just not prepared.”

“Sure you are, Rory. Never stopped you from being very sociable at the Scupper, as I recall. On a fairly regular basis, too,” Brady barked.

“I’m warning the little lady that I’m not going to be very good company is all.”

Megan had to say something or lose her self-respect. This wasn’t the reception she’d wanted, but there was no sense showing any sign of weakness or disappointment. She’d given Grant the boot and that felt pretty damned good. She might as well go for a two-fer.

“I’m sorry. There appears to be a misunderstanding.” Megan worked to make her tone offhand. “Rory, I didn’t come to see you. I came to spend an evening visiting a friend.”

There was an awkward silence.

She continued. “No worries, see? Now go on back to your beer.” She delivered a smile she knew would cut him in half. And he deserved it.

A Hispanic male, probably a SEAL, about five inches shorter than Rory, showed up next to him in a flash. “There you go again, Rory. Thinking the whole fuckin’ world revolves around you. See, she’s got some red meat already planned. You’re not part of the meal, my friend,” he said in a clipped Spanish accent. He pounded Rory’s back, which almost sent him into her arms. At the last minute, the SEAL pulled him back by the shirt collar. “Now I’m going to show you how you greet a lady. I’ll give you a pass since you had a handicapped childhood and all—”

Before the SEAL could get anything else out, Rory was at his throat, and the two of them wrestled on the ground until one of their feet knocked over a table and sent a couple of beers crashing to the floor.

It took three guys to pull Rory off his opponent, who wasn’t resisting. Megan saw Rory had a small cut on his upper lip. The Hispanic SEAL straightened himself and his clothes, righted an upturned chair, and came over to where Megan was patiently standing.

“Hi, young lady. Name’s Fredo.” He extended his hand to shake hers, plastering a smile on his face at the last minute. “I think you met my Mia here, right?”

The other gorgeous wife nodded.

“We apologize for Rory’s behavior. You see, part of why we’re here is to get him out of the foul mood he’s been in ever since he had a misunderstanding with a certain lady friend of his last night.” Rory was getting ready to make another run on Fredo, but was restrained.

The news made Megan smile.

‡

T
he community was
feeling small and cramped. Far from being a refuge, Rory didn’t like his dirty laundry aired in front of the rest of the team. Some part of him knew they only wanted what was best for him, but his pride and his anger at having been left vulnerable and exposed to this near stranger smarted just as if he’d been beaten with a cane like the nuns used to do when he misbehaved.

And he hadn’t misbehaved. He just wanted his feelings to remain private. What was fucking wrong with that? Being laughed at was cruel, but they were telling him to toughen up. If he decided to do it through getting into another fight, they’d shut him down like a schoolboy, and that pissed him off even more.

“God dammit,” he said to no one in particular. His eyes darted from Fredo’s cheese-eating grin to Armando’s scowl, the giggle hidden behind Gina and Mia’s hands to their lips, the way Cooper whispered to Ollie, and Brady kissing the side of Lindsay’s ear, mumbling something to her. It was all at his expense.

And then, he looked at Megan standing alone with a sultry smile he could feel all the way down to his toes. Her arms crossed, pushing up her ample bosom. He remembered those smooth arms, the way her chest heaved as she moaned his name. It wasn’t really the sex he was thinking about, although it was hard to isolate it from his memories of last night, it was the deep emotional connection they’d had.

He wanted to experience it again. He wanted to sink into her and forget everything else.

Certain the beer was doing some of the talking, Rory shook his head and examined the wooden floor. He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped aside, turning his back on the whole room. He inhaled, carefully calming his breathing to a steady rhythm, and willed his anger to go fuck itself. As satisfying as it would be to continue to blow off steam, he’d be pummeled and humiliated. And if he attempted to do that, that’s exactly what he would deserve.

He slowly turned around and looked at his audience. Like the edges of a ragged label, his anger began to loosen and peel away. He could see they believed in him. They knew he had to walk the path alone, but they were there. And they loved him like a brother. He gave them the second hardest words for him to say.

“I’m sorry.”

Just like that, it was all over. People began focusing on other things. Then, there was Megan.

“So I guess you’ll be off to see your friend,” he tried to say casually. Looking into her eyes might reveal too much, so he stared at her chest, which was a worse decision. Another deep inhale and his second thoughts vanished. Her eyes welcomed him.

“Actually my friend has just arrived. He was missing for a while.”

Christ! Okay, breathe, breathe, and breathe.

He opened his mouth to say something and had the words float right out of his brain. He was glad Megan could figure out something to say. He didn’t think anyone was watching them, but he didn’t care.

“First couple of times we were alone together it was over a cup of coffee. How about we repeat that?”

She was watching to see how her words affected him. He nodded.

“Perhaps we should have stuck to that. Maybe we went a little bit too far too fast,” she said.

He couldn’t help it but his gaze covered her body from the top of her head down to her shoes, not missing a detail. He wanted to take off her glasses and let her hair down. He wanted his fingers to—

“Is there some place open right now?” She angled her head and her shy smile returned. Her moist pink lips would melt against his like the butter on popcorn. Her nostrils flared just slightly. Chest blotchy. Pheromones present, no doubt about it. He examined how easy it would be to remove her top, fantasized what color bra she wore underneath, whether or not she wore panties. He remembered her musky sex smell and the sound of the beat of her heart. It was happening to him all over again.

“Come on,” he said as he reached for her hand. She laced her fingers through his, and they left the reception hall.

Halfway to his truck, he stopped her.

“Sorry. Gotta do this.” His voice broke like a teenager, but she understood and upturned her face so he could take her in his arms and he could properly kiss her. The way she fit against him was perfect. The sigh he heard afterwards as he held her until she stopped shaking, thrilled him.

Over the squealing sounds of the espresso machines, over the warm lattes between them on the tiny table, he watched her. His right hand still held her left. He cleared his throat and began filling the space between them.

“I think you’re right. We were a little carried away. Too much too fast.” He watched her open and close her eyes as she sipped her latte. When her eyes were fixed on his, he delivered what he’d really wanted to say. “But damn, that was some night.”

He caught her blush before she could lower her head. When her head rose, she was watching his lips. “It was that. It was incredible.”

Good.
He knew she’d enjoyed herself. He knew he could make her body sing, had all the ideas how that was going to happen, in fucking living color. He began to strategize where he’d kiss her first, where he would taste her, which wasn’t anything like what he’d just told her. He suddenly did not want to play it safe any longer. He wanted to be alone with her, but he didn’t want to scare her away. He was sharing a room with two other guys.

She squeezed his hand. “Tell me about you. Tell me where you come from? Your family—”

“Nothing to tell.”

“I want to hear it.”

He scanned his memories for something PG enough to tell her. Early childhood was safest, at the orphanage. “My parents abandoned me. Never met my mother, and I have no idea who my dad is.”

She frowned.

“Orphanage life wasn’t that bad. We were provided for. My folks were said to be still alive, but I never saw them. The nuns had two classifications of children: orphans and true orphans. This made a difference since the center was given only one allotment of new clothes every year, along with hand-me-downs given by the community. The true orphans got the new clothes, and the orphans, like me, got the hand-me-downs.”

“That’s terrible, Rory.”

Rory shrugged. He didn’t mind this arrangement, because he didn’t like the look and feel of stiff pants that made the other skinny underweight kids like himself resemble cardboard stick figures as they strutted around in their new finery.

“I met my mother’s sister once. She came by the place, and I thought perhaps she’d come to bring me back home. I’m kind of glad she didn’t. Those people seemed crazy.” This part that was difficult to talk about. “I mean,” he said as he rimmed the coffee cup with his forefinger. “What kind of parents abandon their child? Who could do that?”

“Maybe it was to give you a better life.”

“Could be. I’m glad I didn’t go live with my aunt. Didn’t like her boyfriend. Shifty, reminded me of some of the guys we embed with who get military service instead of a jail sentence.”