SEAL'd Perfection The Complete Collection: A Navy SEAL Romance (40 page)

It was the best party I’d been to in a long time, and the only surprise party that had ever been given in my honor. I thanked Jace at least a dozen times on the way back home after everyone had gone home.

“The real fun is gonna be getting this guy to go to sleep,” Jace joked when we pulled into the driveway. “He had a lot of cake tonight.”

I laughed. “I’ll put some extra lavender oil in the bath water.”

“We do have one more thing to show you. Right bud?”

“Yeah!” Jax cheered from his car seat.

I cocked an eyebrow at Jace but didn’t bother asking what it was. I knew he wouldn’t tell me. He liked teasing me too much to give it up that easily.

We got upstairs and Jace put Mickey out in the back yard. I was about to round up Jax for his bath, when Jace stopped me. “Hold on. One minute.” He squatted down next to Jax. “Should we show her what we did? Our art project?”

I smiled as Jax started cheering again. A few weeks before Jace had flown to Texas for his surgery, Jax had informed him that he wanted to be an artist when he grew up, just like Jace, and they had begun working on little projects every day. I sat down on the couch and opened my hands. “I’d love to see it!”

Jace turned to Jax. “You wanna go get it, bud?”

Jax scampered off down the hall, and came back wearing his little backpack. He opened it and pulled out a piece of paper. He gave it to me, and I unfolded it. “This is beautiful!” I exclaimed. My eyes teared up as I traced the picture Jax had drawn, showing Jace, me, and him as rough, child-like stick figure scribbles. Jace’s handwriting was underneath each person, labeling it, and at the bottom it said “Our Family” in beautiful scroll lettering—like a fancy tattoo.

“You did this?”

“I’ve been practicing.” Jace replied, then he smiled and sat down next to me. “Well, Jax drew this on his own, and when I asked him what it was, he said it was family. His family.”

“That’s amazing.” I reached for Jax and drew him to me, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. I was still holding him in one arm, and pulled Jace in with the other, the tears falling as I held the two loves of my life in my arms.

“We had a conversation about family, and what it means, and came up with a question for you,” Jace continued. I released them and turned to look at him as he slid from the couch, kneeling before me.

“Oh my God…Jace?” My hands flew to cover my mouth.

“You got it, bud?” Jace asked, and Jax smiled as he produced a small velvet box from his backpack. “Good job! Thanks for holding onto it for me.” He turned his attention back to me. “Kat, you are the love of my life. I’ve spent most of my life wrestling with questions, looking for answers, but now, everything is simple, and I just have one question left. Will you marry me?”

I burst into tears, frantically nodding through the flood. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Jace popped open the box to reveal a solitaire diamond sparkler. He slipped it on my finger and I leaned over to kiss him.

Jax jumped around, whooping and hollering, and we all laughed. “Family!” He cheered.

Jace turned to look at me. “Family.”

I nodded and took his damaged hand in mine. “Yes. Family. Forever and always.”

~ THE END ~

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KB Winters has an addiction to caffeine, tattoos and hard-bodied alpha males. The men in her books are very sexy, protective and sometimes bossy, her ladies are…well…
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Living in sunny Southern California, the embarrassingly hopeless romantic writes every chance she gets!

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SEAL’d Perfection

Exclusive Bonus!

By

KB Winters

Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

The club was—in a word—grungy. From the tacky vinyl coated booths, sticky laminate floor, and hints of dust picked up in the flashing spotlights, everything in sight was tinged with grime and filth. It was abandoned for the moment. The production team for my reality show,
Inked by Jace
, were outside, cattle wrangling everyone into place. In a handful of minutes, the crowd outside would fill the space, breathing life into the dismal warehouse setting
.

Marty, the lead producer on set, wandered by, and I grabbed a handful of his thick, winter coat. “This is a joke, right?”

He spun to face me, ripping his thick wool coat free of my grasp. “A joke?”

“This place is fucking disgusting,” I started, gesturing at every dirt coated surface within reach for emphasis. “This is not a place my crew and I would ever willingly step foot in. So, I have to assume that this is a joke, and not some kind of subtle dig on me and my boys.”

Marty’s eyes drifted to the bar where twenty of my buddies were giving the two bartenders a hard time, shouting orders out in rapid fire. Sure, they were a little rough on the outside, most of them had shown up looking like they’d just gotten off work for the day. Some of them worked as mechanics over at Jem’s Bike and Bait, and were no doubt sporting grease blackened hands, the smell of oil and gas, and the kind of attire that wouldn’t pass for Sunday’s best in the hardest of towns. Still, that was no reason to stuff us into a scummy bar to shoot the scene for the show.

“It’s not a
dig
,” Marty replied, his lips forming a thin line. “But, the Four Seasons wasn’t available.”

His barb delivered, he spun on the heel of his loafer, and stalked back towards the doors. My stare followed after him as my mind bubbled over with insults I’d be sure to throw his way the next time he had the misfortune of our paths crossing.

“The Four Seasons,” I scoffed under my breath. “Fuck.” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “What am I even fucking doing here?” I asked, though there was no one within ear shot to answer me. My buddies though I was insane for doing a reality TV show, but for all their ribbing, they managed to show up tonight when there was the promise of unlimited free drinks and a quasi-famous DJ who was supposed to draw a crowd of people. Hot chicks were their hope.

“All set for your big night?” Gina, my flavor of the week, purred as she sidled up to me. Her breath already gave away the fact that she’d hit up the bar before the others had arrived. She held a martini glass with some kind of fruity looking contents in one hand, and wrapped her free hand around my waist, her hand sliding into my back pocket.

At least one thing was going my way.

I glanced down at her and nodded. She’d chased me down at some uptown bar where I’d been having a business dinner with my agent. She’d been decked out in a killer cocktail dress and as soon as I’d seen her walk through the front doors, I’d been unable to concentrate on anything, Pete, my agent, had said. My mind had been fully locked on getting her home with me and getting her out of it.

She was a fashion buyer, and used to champagne and caviar, but hadn’t batted an eye when I’d invited her to the club in a far seedier part of Chicago than she was used to. I hadn’t yet decided if she honestly enjoyed slumming it, or if she was just eager to get her fifteen minutes of fame on the set of my show. Not that I really cared. She was a good time and an even better fuck, so I rolled with it.

“This wasn’t my idea of venue, but it’ll do,” I answered, realizing she was still waiting for my reply.

She looked around, her eyes glassy. “What’s wrong with it?”

I laughed and shook my head. Maybe that was the answer. A few drinks would wipe the trace of dirt and grunge out of my eyes. I rolled my shoulders back and relaxed. I’d take up my complaints with Pete the next time we met. I was wrapping the first season of my show, and while the ratings had blown up, shooting me to overnight fame, I didn’t have enough of a track record to really call the shots. Pete, on the other hand, had been an entertainment agent for over twenty years and could bulldoze his way through the roadblocks I kept running into.

“Jace, you
have
to try this,” Gina said, pushing the drink into my hand. “It’s amazing.”

I threw the drink back, grimacing at the sweet and sour tang that hit me in the back of my throat as I swallowed it down. “Good. What do you say we have a little fun tonight? Fuck all this bullshit!”

Gina giggled. “I have just the thing.” She dug into her little black clutch purse and produced two red and white capsules. “I was saving these for later…”

“What are they?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t remember what the guy called them, but he told me they are amazing!”

I closed her fist around the pills. “What guy?”

“Joey, he’s my normal guy. I trust him.”

I nodded, unconvinced. “Maybe later.”

She giggled again and stuffed them into her pocket. “Just say the word.”

A loud boom ricocheted off the walls and I jumped out of my skin, jolting around to see the source of the sound. Marty stood at the front entrance of the club, two giant metal doors. He winced at the hard sound and shrugged an apology before trying the megaphone in his hands again. “Sorry everyone. We’re opening the doors. Jay, Keith, you two stay with Jace. Lou and Pam, cover the crowd. Jace,” he turned to me, “remember, we’re not here.”

“Right,” I muttered.

Since the first day of filming, I’d been wary of the cameras and sound equipment in my face constantly. At my tattoo shop it had gotten easier, usually because after I got started inking, it didn’t take long to become consumed in my work and as the hours flew by, the cameras and crew faded away. However, out in public, it was a different animal entirely. When I’d first agreed to do the show, I’d—wrongly—assumed that the cameras would only be present at the shop. The show was pitched as a show about my tattoo work and the clients who frequented my exclusive tattoo shop. I’d had no way of knowing that the producers would ever need, or want, footage of me wandering around a grocery store, getting my hair cut, or going out once the shop was closed. However, over three months, and the release of the first half of the season, my popularity had risen so quickly, that the studio powers that be, decided the public wanted more. They wanted to know what I did once the shop was locked down for the night, what I did on the weekends.

So, thanks to an all-access clause in my contract, there they were.

Constantly.

Tonight, the premise was a night on the town with my buddies. However, what the general public didn’t realize was…the entire thing was staged. The other club-goers were extras, the club was a closed set, and everything had been set up ahead of time by producers. There was even a storyline in place. I was supposed to have it out with one of my guys, James, an intern at the shop. I cut a look to where he was standing, slouched at the bar, and realized that I couldn’t remember what it was we were supposed to argue about.

Not that I gave a shit.

The show was a joke to me. A paycheck—and a huge one at that.Nothing more, nothing less.