Her Firefighter SEAL (16 page)

“You got it.” He let her tow him out onto the dance floor. “But since you’re the one who was the professional dancer, prepare to lower your standards.”

The music was a happy, rollicking country song with crazy-mad lovers, too much alcohol, and at least two horses and a pickup truck. Honestly, Abbie didn’t care, because the beat and the words were simply an excuse to get close to Kade in public. He settled his big hand on the small of her back and steered her closer to him. He hadn’t been kidding about his lack of dance moves, but the floor was crowded in the best way, with everyone bumping butts and hips in a happy, chaotic mess. The next song was slightly faster, but then they were back to sad cowboys and lonely lovers.

She let Kade twirl her in a long, slow circle. “You think Katie listened to the words before she let the DJ play these?”

Kade’s smile lit up the dance floor. “Not too cheerful, are they?”

“They look so happy together.” To her horror, tears pricked her eyelids.
Bad Abbie.
Weddings were happy.

“Yep.” He pulled her closer, and she wondered if he’d noticed the near waterworks. Kade didn’t miss much.

Change the subject.
“They’re going to Paris for the honeymoon.”

He winced. “I think that’s my fault. I should probably write Tye a check.”

Kade was cute when he was embarrassed. He could be ninety, but as long as he still lived in Strong, no one would let him live that legendary bucket list down. Abbie would bet Tye had a bucket list of his own now—and the new couple would be working through the items in the coming two weeks.

“Climb a mountain. Learn to speak French. Own an island. Gamble in Vegas.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “You’re going to be a busy boy—and you’re going to need some cash. I’m not sure if you were planning the real estate acquisition before or after your conquest of Sin City.”

He groaned. “Does the whole town know about that list?”

She tilted her head back as he twirled in her in another long, slow circle. The twinkle lights strung over the tent’s ceiling blurred. If it wasn’t magical, it was darn close. “I memorized it,” she said cheerfully.

“Do you know how many people have come up and asked me about that list? Faye and Gia Donovan mention it at least once a week. Mimi asks for a status update every time I step foot in Ma’s bar.”

“Those are all women.”

He gave her a look. “The guys just give me a shit. I think those three actually want details and an action plan.”

She grinned up at him. “You remember that Katie had us working through the list with her, right?”

The naughty twinkle in his eyes should have warned her. “I definitely remember. I also offered to check off the ménage a trois part with your help.”

God. She slapped a hand over his mouth. “The minister is
right there.
”

Rather than shut up, Kade danced her in the opposite direction. “I’m sure he’s had sex before with Mrs. Minister.”

“I don’t want to think about it.” The minister who had married Katie and Tye was long past middle-aged. Rotund and balding, he was a great guy, but there was no way on God’s green earth that she wanted to imagine him naked.

“Chicken.” The smile Kade gave her was wickedly sweet.

“Your list wasn’t all about sex. You wanted to blow stuff up, too.”

“Yeah, but I already covered that. Uncle Sam made sure I could check flying helicopters, firing machine guns, and climbing a mountain off that damned list.”

Kade danced her around a couple of smoke jumpers. Joey had Mercy planted in the middle of the dance floor, his hands glued to her hips as the two of them swayed in place with zero regard for the song’s up-tempo beat. They made a cute pair, and she’d bet she was looking at her next wedding invitation.

God. Was that his mouth brushing her hair? It had been too long since she’d danced like this. 

“Did you ever learn French?” She blurted out because she couldn’t help but wonder how many lovers he’d made happy with his French over the years. Not that he’d been hers—she’d cut him free in high school—but apparently she didn’t like the idea of sharing him. He was gorgeous, and he was nice. If occasionally he opened his mouth and proved that he was still bossy as hell and way too fond of giving orders, well, kissing shut him up just fine. She’d bet she wasn’t the only woman to discover Kade’s weakness in that regard.

He grinned. “Have you heard my French?”

“Why Mr. Jordan, you’ve been holding out on me.”

“Not anymore,” he said, and she suddenly wasn’t sure he was talking about French. “
Frère Jacques
,” he intoned, pulling her close.

He was so big, and she felt so safe, as if life’s more sucktastic moments couldn’t possibly reach her in his arms. Her head knew that was an illusion, but her heart insisted it was a good one. Kade was only one man—and he wasn’t Superman. She really should remember that.

But the shiver that started at the top of her spine and headed south suggested other things she could be doing. Remembering. Kade was a dirty, inventive, talented lover, and his mouth moving over her ear was one good reason to let him hold her just a little bit longer.
Focus. He’s reciting a dirty French poem to you, and when will that ever happen again?

“
Frère Jacques
,” he whispered roughly, urgently against her skin. God, he had a husky bedroom voice, the liquid syllables spilling out of his mouth with a perfect French accent. Except...

“
Dormez-vous?
”

She felt rather than saw the smile as he pressed a kiss against her throat. He was... singing her a children’s lullaby?
Oh, God.
His tongue traced the sensitive whorl of her ear, and pig Latin would have been fine with her, as long he kept
doing
that.

“That’s not French, not really,” she protested breathlessly a long moment later when he twirled her in a lazy circle.

“
Sonnez les matines
,” he growled, nipping her ear lobe.

Oh.
“That’s your secret French weapon?” Because he’d better not have picked a kid’s song for her because she was pregnant.

He put an inch or two of space between them, running his hands up and down her back as he examined her face. “Did it work?”

Pleading the Fifth here.
“You memorize a poem in French, the language of lovers, and
that’s
the one you pick?”

“Guilty as charged.”

~*~

A
bbie shook her head, and Kade just knew that she wasn’t done with him. Sure, she might not like to talk about her own feelings, but she definitely liked to examine his. If he couldn’t figure himself out, he didn’t think she had a chance, but it was cute watching her try.

The DJ picked that moment to rescue his ass and segued into a slow song. He dropped his hands to her hips and tugged her closer until he had her front pressed against his. He liked this
no space
thing. Naturally, she wasn’t done poking at these
feelings
he was supposed to be entertaining.

“Are you trying to distract me with sex?” She wriggled, standing up on tiptoe, which had to be on purpose, because his erection slid down the firm curve of her belly—
hello, Peanut, your mom’s boyfriend is a happy man
—and nestled between her hips.

“Is it working?” he asked hopefully.

Pressing her mouth against his ear, she whispered something. He had no idea what she was saying—she could have been reciting the dollar menu at a fast-food joint—but the words were husky and sweet, and damned if they didn’t get him going.

“
J'aime le souvenir de ces époques nues, Dont Phoebus se plaisait à dorer les statues
. Charles Baudelaire,” she finished.

That was it. Abbie had a near-perfect French accent, and there was no way he resisted her now.

“You either know French or you’re whispering another man’s name in my ear.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back but that was the problem with talking. Once the words were out there, they were out there. No do-overs or take backs possible, and he was the dumbass who’d just raised the specter of Abbie’s dead husband.

––––––––

Chapter Fifteen

––––––––

K
ade had teased Katie that her reception looked like it was being held in a large, all-white circus tent; she’d countered with medieval jousting pavilion. Fuck if he had any idea what that was—and he had zero intentions of googling to find out because some mental images he didn’t need—but it wasn’t half-bad from the outside. The tent was large and white, a kind of Zen-like monstrosity that kept the wedding guests in one place.

The tent was also on the edge of the vineyard. The winery stretched out behind them, all flowers and stone walls. The sun was almost down and the waiters were buzzing around, lighting a gazillion candle-filled lanterns. He wasn’t sure why electricity wasn’t romantic, or why white was, but it was Katie’s day. Whatever she wanted, she got. He and Tye were on the same page there.

He and Abbie? Not so much.

Abbie looked up at him, and he had no idea what she was thinking. That was pretty typical, but he’d just landed a conversational bomb that was the equivalent of Hiroshima. Hoping she wouldn’t dump his sorry ass on the spot, he opened his mouth to get a head start on apologizing, but she cut him off.

“Help me forget?”

Forgetting was better than groveling, but he had a better idea. “Why don’t we remember the good parts?”

Of whatever it was she wanted to forget, although coming on the heels of his
other man
crack, he could guess. She was thinking about Will. He, on the hand, was trying to figure out how to compete with a dead man and win the girl. The sick sense of shame uncurling in the pit of his stomach hadn’t been this strong since he’d pinched penny candy from the local market, and his father had marched him down there to apologize.

She shook her head “I’m not forgetting Will. I’m forgetting what went wrong with our marriage.”

Well. Hell. She slid him a glance as she walked her fingers up the front of his shirt, revealing the next step in her forgetting-the-bad-stuff plan. She wanted to have sex and, ordinarily, he’d have been totally on board with that plan. Right now, however, his collar felt stiff and the shirt had way too many buttons. He had to iron the fucking thing if he so much as leaned back. Wearing his Navy dress uniform had seemed wrong because he’d left that part of his life behind. The SEALs weren’t the team he was part of now, although he’d have the brothers and the scars for a lifetime. That wasn’t a bad thing, but he needed to be moving forward.

Apparently, Abbie felt the same way.

The memories hammered at him. Abbie’s face had glowed as she’d moved up the aisle toward him and Tye.
Glow
was a stupid, girl word, but it fit, and he’d use it if he wanted to. She hadn’t been coming for him, and her happiness had been all about watching two of her friends get hitched and get started on all that happily-ever-after crap. Kade knew that. But yeah—he’d enjoyed the view and he’d done just a little fantasizing that this was
their
wedding day, and she was playing bride to his groom.

Stupid.
He’d never thought much about getting married, other than his faux engagement to Katie, and that had been both a practical joke on all the well-meaning-but-had-their-noses-in-his-business residents of Strong and a way to help a friend out.

“I’m betting there were good parts.” He sounded hoarse. And more than a little desperate.

She made a noncommittal noise and started towing him outside. He let her pull him along, depositing the beer bottle on an empty table as they went.

Abbie kept moving, a woman on a mission.

“I miss Will,” she said quietly, but he heard her loud and clear.

“We all do.”

It was true too. For no particular reason, that damn bucket list flashed through his head. Funny how he’d gotten that
ménage a trois
after all. Instead of the fantasy starring him and two hot chicks, however, he’d gotten Abbie Donegan and Will.

Tye was the brother of his heart, but he also had Kade’s life. He’d fallen in love with Katie, Kade’s fiancé at the time, and married her; he even had Kade’s place on the Donovan Brothers jump team. The man had come to Strong specifically to step in for Kade, to pick up the slack, the pieces, everything and everyone that Kade had left in the lurch. Kade appreciated it, even if part of him wished Tye hadn’t been so goddamned good at it.
Overachiever.

He looked down at where Abbie’s fingers threaded through his. He’d ended up with someone better, so it wasn’t like he could complain. “Are you taking me to bed?”

“I could be giving you French lessons.” The sweet sultry look in her eyes killed him.

Since he really didn’t want to make love to Abbie in the garden, he started walking back toward the front of the winery. He’d booked a room at an inn just down the road.

“Did you drive?” He had his truck parked outside, conveniently close by for a speedy getaway.

She shook her head. “Katie organized a limo for us. It’ll take us back after the reception.”

Honestly, he had no idea what the hell he was doing out here with Abbie. She’d made it understood that she didn’t need anything more from him. Hell. She hadn’t needed anything to begin with except, possibly, sex, and Gia Donovan had cheerfully explained pregnancy hormones to him in excruciating detail. He was the one mooning around after her, wondering if they could possibly go back to their high school glory days and see each other again. She was widowed, she was lonely, and she was Will’s.

Scooping Abbie up and depositing her on the front seat of his truck was stupid, but he did it anyways. If she was lonely, he could fix that problem for her. Ditto on pregnancy hormones and forgetting how messed up her life was, at least temporarily.

“Kidnapping’s illegal in all fifty states,” she said cheerfully, making no move to get out of his cab. “Where are we going this time?”

It was dark enough now to make out all the stars, which must have been a view she appreciated, because she stared up at the sky for a minute. Then she grabbed his flannel shirt from the seat and wiggled into it.