SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) (6 page)

No kidding.

Rory watched Shannon, T.J.’s wife, bring little Courtney down the hallway to her father. Shannon lifted the baby to T.J.’s huge arms and once she was settled in, gave her legendary feisty-sexy look to Rory.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Rory. Careful you don’t get Fredo too worked up. Not good for your health.” The last part she said glancing casually over her shoulder, her tight jeans hugging all the right parts, which Rory knew T.J. enjoyed thoroughly on a regular basis. Suddenly married life wasn’t looking so bad.

Courtney was clutching T.J.’s little finger and could hardly get a full grip. The big SEAL was completely engrossed in his diminutive daughter.

“The frog prince and the pink princess,” Rory said before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, well you better hope the affliction catches hold of you, Rory. Only one thing better than a woman in your life.”

“Two women,” they both said in tandem.

“Damn straight.” He gently rocked his daughter and glanced up at Rory, the inquiry on his face all too obvious.

“No, man. I don’t do babies.”

“Try it.”

“No, I’m not going there.”

“You afraid of this little one?” He held Courtney up to near-sitting position so she could look over at Rory, and before her eyes could find him, she threw up all over her belly.

“See, she can’t stand the sight of me,” Rory said.

“Well then, I have no worries, do I?” T.J. started heading back toward the bedroom. “Be right back.”

In just under
three hours, their caravan of Hummers and four-door pickups carried six SEALs and their gear to the ski resort. Rory’s mood had warmed considerably as they concentrated on tasks to get them ready for the trip. Quietly, all the bags had been stowed in racks on the two Hummers, or secured in the truck beds. Everything was tied, double-tied, and double-checked as a community effort. Doing this required little talking, and joking around might make it so something wasn’t properly fastened down. That meant equipment would be needlessly lost. That was a no-go. The normal smack-talk was gone, useless as a flat tire.

But on the trip, it was another story.

Fredo was least tolerant of the snow, yet he was one of the fastest snowboarders of the team, with his powerful bullet-shaped body. On the slopes, he paid attention to lesser-experienced boarders, but Team Guys had to find ways to scramble away from him if he was coming down the slope behind them. Then it was every man for himself. He’d run his share of guys off into the woods upside down. Rory knew Fredo would be gunning for him to make up for his big mouth the night before.

He got in line to ride the lift with T.J. and feathered in with a group who had come from the lodge.

“How’s your head?” T.J. asked. “Want something for it?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just freezing my nuts off. My first run and I’ll be warmed up.”

They caught the lift, and both of them zipped up their suits, knowing it would get colder the higher they got. They followed kids in skis bobbing in front of them, their tips sometimes crashing into each other. Far below, the snow was already well traveled. A hat and a pole lay where they’d been dropped due to someone’s inattention.

They smoothly exited at the top and collected their boards, stomping out the fresh snow and pressing down into their straps, allowing them to click into place. Almost in tandem Rory and T.J. cleaned their dark glasses, cinched up their gloves and wiggled their hips to position their boards to the slope. T.J. motioned for Rory to go first, so he leaned to the side and began to take off down the hill. His buddy was right behind him.

Rory’s heart was racing with his first run of the day. It was also the first run of the season. It had been over a year since he’d been on his board, because last year at this time they were overseas on an out-of-rotation assignment. His joints were strong, but he was lacking practice so his balance and wasn’t as smooth and fluid as he would be once he had a few more runs under his belt. The bottom of the slope was a minefield peppered with kids, beginning skiers and boarders of all levels crisscrossing each other’s tracks. They were going inside, turning to go back up the lift, or heading to stand in line by one of the other lifts.

Rory had been so careful not to take a fall that T.J. had actually beat him to the bottom, which irked him a little. T.J. thumbed toward the other side. “Saw Coop, Ollie and Brady over there.” He pointed. Rory eyed the lift with a long line attached to it like an umbilical cord.

“They’ll wait for us at the top,” T.J. said.

Rory nodded and took up his position. They were coming under some heavy scrutiny from two young college-aged girls who giggled and whispered, stealing glances Rory tried to ignore. When their chair arrived and whisked them away, he was grateful for the distance the lift gave them.

T.J. was trying to stuff down a grin, but failing. “I would have switched with one of them, or better yet, I could’ve taken their seat and you could have had them both to yourself.”

“Nice one, T.J. Better behave or I’ll weave a story when I get home that Shannon won’t like one bit.”

“I’m clean.”

“Hell you are. I can fuckin’ read your mind.” He pointed to the girls with the end of his glove. The girls had begun the steep ascent and were hanging nearly thirty feet above them. “That’s trouble. Not anything I want anything to do with.”

“Focused on the mission, are we?” T.J.’s actor good looks were always disarming. His clear blue eyes and blindingly white teeth made it so Rory had to look away to avoid being teased for gawking. Everyone knew he wasn’t, of course, but T.J. was
that
good looking. And totally comfortable with it, too, needling everyone with the effect it had on the rest of his team.

Rory, on the other hand, felt like a piece of roughed up sandpaper, crumpled and well used for his age. He also sported more wounds on him, especially from errant projectiles, which sometimes got away from him. He and Fredo were always the ones closest to any explosive devices they set or tried to defuse.

He drew in the cold crisp air, blew out white vapor, and spoke to the big SEAL beside him. “I’m just trying to get loose. Been a couple of funny days. I’m tight, and I don’t like that.”

T.J. shared a common background with Rory, having been tossed around the system without ever knowing his parents. Rory knew T.J. had demons he carried from childhood. It didn’t take much for him to feel bad about himself, though he would never say it.

“I feel you. Doesn’t happen to me so much anymore. Kind of found myself with Shannon and Courtney, you know?”

Rory looked away. “I fuckin’ know. Would you stop with all the baby talk, T.J.? I told you, I’m not
doing
that.”

“I’ll remind you some day when you’re dashing off to labor and delivery, you asshole. Boy, do I pity the little girl who has to have a mug like yours. She’ll probably have a beard, too!”

Rory punched his buddy in the arm, then scrubbed his hat right off his head and let it fall to the ground below as they continued their climb. T.J. had his hands on Rory’s hat, and then one of his gloves and tossed them over into the snow as well. There was a lull and then the fight was on. They began punching each other, tearing at each other’s jackets, glasses, gloves, and finally the boards. By the time they made it to the top, they stood in their turtlenecks and snowboard pants without gloves or any equipment besides shoes. Subsequent seats of skiers and boarders were laughing as they watched the two muscular guys continue the shoving and name calling until it disintegrated into rolling in the snow.

Rory began to chuckle as he felt the pain in his chest lighten, realizing how stupid they’d been. It was going to be a long walk under the chairlift to gather all their things. He realized T.J. was busting a gut too. They both fell backwards in the snow, laughing so hard Rory nearly peed his pants.

“On second thought,” Rory said through his tears, trying to catch his breath, “I think you should have let me have the girls. At least I’d not be fuckin’ having to walk down the hill like some scared skier.”

T.J.’s laughter peeled away in another round. “Yeah, but in that case, they’d be nekked by the time they got to the top, and I don’t think these people—,” he pointed to the small crowd that had begun to gather, “—would be too amused.”

Rory got to his feet, dusted the snow from his hair and his neck, pants and butt. “Show’s over,” he said as his arms went wide to the side.

A well-placed snowball landed on Rory’s neck so hard it nearly knocked him over. He whirled around, seeing Fredo rush by and down the hill. Over the top of his head Rory saw Fredo raise a glove in the three-finger salute. He swore he’d exact revenge on Fredo, or he’d go to the hospital trying.

‡

M
egan got to
the bookstore early to tend to the tables and chairs she left behind when they’d left so suddenly last night. Her boss wasn’t due in for at least an hour, but she wanted to make sure the room was completely ready for customers. She got a cappuccino from the coffee staff and hid it on one of the shelves behind the sales terminal. She wasn’t used to having two strong coffees in one morning, especially since taking her hot yoga class, but she found the coffee soothing.

Lindsay told her the boys were up at the snow and asked her if she wanted to go. She would have had to take off a day at work, so she declined. As the morning wore on, she began to reconsider her decision. If Lindsay’s husband, Brady, were going to be there then Rory wouldn’t be far away since they served in the same platoon. She also didn’t want to give the appearance of chasing him. Or did she?

Am I chasing him?

Well yes, she knew she was.
Might as well be honest and admit it.

All morning she helped people find books and then rang up their purchases. She could still hear him, feel the touch of his callused fingers as he stroked over her skin and followed up with wet kisses.

Her pleasant daydreams came to an abrupt end when Grant walked into the bookstore and headed straight for her. She hadn’t heard from him in the three months since their breakup. He looked angry. She shielded herself quickly behind the counter.

Grant had long hair he wore over the side in what would some day be a comb-over. But right now, he had plenty of sandy straight hair that was always getting into his eyes. He worked as a reporter for the local paper. With his tweed jacket and horn-rimmed glasses, he easily could have passed for a college professor.

She could see his look soften, the closer he got to her. His wedding ring was missing like the first time they had gone out.

“Grant.”

“How are you, Megan? I’ve been thinking a lot about you.”

“You shouldn’t have. You’re married.”

He held up his ring finger, exposing the white flesh of a recently unencumbered digit.

“Which you could have slipped into your pocket, just like the first time we met.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She stiffened, the hackles standing up on the back of her neck, her stomach doing flip-flops. “You’ve done worse,” she said through her teeth.

The hot sex was one thing, but the telling her that he loved her and wanted to marry her when he already had a wife and two children at home who were blissfully ignorant of his serial adulterous nature—this was what had hurt the most. She’d believed him and hated the fact that the only man she’d trusted one hundred percent, perhaps the only man she ever
would
trust like that, didn’t deserve the honor bestowed on him.

“I’m free now, Megan. I did it for you.” He tried to let his smile soften his face, little laugh lines appearing at the corners of his eyes, but his overall appearance came off like a bored clerk saying, “Have a nice day.”

“Oh, please, Grant. Spare me the syrupy sweet voice. It just turns my stomach. I’m not slightly interested in another go-around with you. Find someone else.”

“But I don’t want anyone else. I came to
you
right away.”

Was he that much of an idiot? Megan knew the part of the sentence he’d left out was,
“before I looked up one of my other girlfriends.”
How could he not know?

He started to say something else, and she held her palm in front of his face. “Grant, I don’t care where you go, as long as you get out of my face. There’s nothing here for you, and if you don’t get away from me, I’ll have Security usher you out. Don’t call me. Don’t try to visit me here or at my place. Just stay away.” She delivered the message loud enough so that the bulky guard by the front door was alerted.

“Sorry. I just thought you should know, in case—”

His boyish good looks and that little shrug of the shoulders and crooked smile used to get to her. How could she have let that happen?

You believed his lies and heard what you wanted to hear, Megan.
It was the awful, shameful truth. “In case I wanted to debase myself again with you? Is that what you’re saying?”

The security guard had picked up the vibes and was making his way over with long fluid strides. She had just enough time to make one more comment to Grant before the guard would overhear,