The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (15 page)

Maeve touched the “end” button on her
phone. Her heart was racing.

A client. A
paying
client who had
seen Maeve’s work online and was interested in turning his basement into a crafting
room for his wife. She had stuck with him thirty years while he was in the
Navy. And now that he had retired, he wanted to give her something nice.

“The sky’s the limit,” he had said. Four
words every designer longs to hear.

She set her phone down on the kitchen
table and raced toward Abigail’s room. Lacey was at Mick’s, but Bess was home. “Bess?”
she said quietly, her head next to the baby’s closed door.

“Hold your breath if you come in here,
Maeve.”

Even the mild threat couldn’t keep Maeve
from sharing her news with someone face-to-face. She swung open the door. “I’ve
got my first—ugh!” Instinctively, she stepped backward as she hit a wall
of stench. “Good God. What did you feed her last night?”

Her face curled in revulsion, Bess wiped
Abigail’s messy bottom. “I tried making apricot baby food with that Vitamix
someone gave Lacey at the bridal shower. I had no idea the homemade stuff would
have this kind of effect on her. She eats the kind from the store all the time
without… this,” she finished, glancing downward to the mess.

“Phew, Abigail.” Maeve eyed the baby as
she took another step back. “You sure know how to clear a room.”

“So, what’s so important that you’d dare
come into the danger zone?”

Maeve grinned. “I’ve got my first
client.”

“No! Really?” She beamed. “That’s great! I’d
hug you, but I’m germy now.”

“Yeah. Keep your hands to yourself. And I
shouldn’t even say anything yet, because we’ve just talked on the phone. I’m
going to meet with him this afternoon. But he really liked what he saw on my
website. Or
your
website, I should say.”

“It’s your work on there that makes the
site good. I just put it all together.” She tossed a final dirty wipe into the
trashcan. “How did he find out about you?”

“He’s in the Navy. Or was, till a few
weeks ago. Someone forwarded him a link to my blog.”

“Brilliant. Jack’s idea is working.” She
slipped a fresh diaper under Abby. “Did you tell Jack yet?”

“No. I want to tell him in person.”

“So you can thank him properly?”

Maeve blushed. “Sort of like that.”

Bess lifted Abigail and started toward
her crib.

“I’ll hold her,” Maeve offered, taking
the warm baby into her arms. She hadn’t experienced any better feeling in the
world than having Abigail nestled against her… until recently. Being held in
Jack’s arms definitely had taken the lead.

“Oh, sure.
Now
you offer. Where
was your help when she smelled like a septic tank exploded?” Bess laughed, as
she opened the door to the bathroom, scoured her hands, and wiped down the
doorknob she had touched with a Lysol wipe.

Maeve didn’t know whether it came from
motherhood or cleaning people’s houses for a living, but her friend could
easily work as a cross-contamination expert for the Centers for Disease
Control.

“So how are you two doing, anyway?” Bess
reached for Abigail. “You’ve barely been around the house these days. Always at
his place.”

“We’re—wonderful.” Maeve leaned
against the wall. “We’re still in that stage where we can’t get enough of each
other. He’s been so busy winding up the school year and getting things ready
for his move. So we’re just fitting in time together whenever we can. He took
me to the Herndon Climb yesterday—you know, when all the mids climb up
this greased up obelisk? You should totally go next year, Bess. They’re too
young for me to even look at without feeling like a cougar-in-training. But if
I were 23 like you, I’d be standing there handing out my number.”

Bess laughed. “A man is the last thing I
need.”

“And the first thing you need is—?”

“Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Okay, okay.” Maeve lifted her hands. “Just
a suggestion.”

“Are you seeing him today?”

“Yeah. There’s a pipes and drums concert tonight
in the rotunda. You should come. I bet Abby would love the music.”

“Nah. I’ve got some studying to do.”

“But you’re still coming to the Blue
Angels flight demonstration, right?”

Bess shook her head. “Sounds like too
much noise and heat for Abby. Besides, if we’d really be seeing it from a boat,
I just wouldn’t feel comfortable with a baby, you know?”

“So, we’ll ask Edith if she’ll babysit.”

“No. Really, I’m fine with it.”

“Not acceptable. You need a life, Bess.
When was the last time you got out and did something different?”

Bess lowered Abby into her crib. “I need
a life. I won’t argue with that. But what you need is time alone with Jack. He
won’t be around here much longer. I have no intentions of being the third
wheel.”

Maeve crossed her arms. “We’re all going.
I’m calling Edith now.”

“No, you’re not. I can be just as
stubborn as you. I’ll go next year.”

“Next year Jack and Mick will be gone.” She
hated even speaking those words.

“So? I’ll go with the hot mid I’ll pick
up at the Herndon climb,” Bess said with a smile.

Maeve grinned. “Now you’re talking.”

“Now go. You have your first client
meeting to get ready for.”

***

“I’ve always wanted to go here,” Maeve
admitted as Jack pulled the chair out for her at their table overlooking the
Bay. He had insisted on taking her out that night to Eagle’s Point after the
concert to celebrate her first client.

“This is Lacey and Mick’s place, isn’t it?”
Jack took her hand as he sat down.

“Mmhm. She says they kind of fell in love
here, I guess.”

“With this view, it’s hard not to.”
Jack’s eyes never left hers.

Maeve glanced out the window, and soaked
in the sweeping sight of the Bay in the moonlight. “So true.”

“I meant you. The view of you, not the
water.”

If any other man had said such a thing,
she would have called it a line. But not with Jack.

“This can’t be our place, though,” he
said casually, glancing down at his menu. “I’m already in love with you.”

Maeve played along. “So what is our
place? Where did you fall for me?”

Jack’s smile was filled with a wealth of
memories. “Easy. Your back porch. Playing Scrabble. Eating burgers that Mick
had overcooked on the barbeque.”

Maeve scrunched up her face. “He really
does lack talent with a Weber, doesn’t he? We’ve eaten so much better since
Bess took over the cooking.”

It was to be a late dinner, and Maeve
couldn’t help recall her days of living in New York City while she was in
design school, where it was practically a city law to never eat dinner before eight.

Her life was so different now in
Annapolis, a sleepy little town by comparison, she thought, glancing over the
wine list. No cheap wines here, she noted, but Jack had refused to take her anyplace
else.

A little indulgence would do her good,
and with the timer ticking away, she wouldn’t get too many opportunities to
enjoy an elegant meal with Jack. Yet still…

“You really didn’t have to take me out,
Jack. In fact, I should be the one taking you out, seeing as the only reason I
got a client is because of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, it’s nice
to get you out doing something that isn’t at the Academy for a change. Did you
like the concert?”

“Yes. I’ve never heard bagpipes performed
live before. They sound so eerie and beautiful. Gave me chills.” Spotting what
she wanted on the menu, she closed it and set it down in front of her. “And
everything always sounds even better when it’s at the Academy. There’s
something about those historic buildings that just lend such meaning to
everything.”

“I know. It was hard going to school
there because of it. So much pressure, feeling the weight of centuries of
tradition on your shoulders.”

“So, is that how your shoulders got that
strong?”

“That, and a lot of overhead presses at
the gym.”

They ordered appetizers and wine, and
Maeve’s mouth watered at their arrival. There was no dieting in this place, to
be sure. But she now had a marvelous way of working off every wicked calorie.

“So I haven’t overbooked you, have I?”
Jack asked. “I think I’ve got you busy every day this week.”

“I’m loving it. I’ve never experienced
commencement week this way before. Till now, it had always been a week I
dreaded. You know, all the traffic.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a little different on
the other side of the Academy gates, isn’t it?” he reached for her hand as the
waitress approached.

He ordered their entrées, as he always
did. He might be a Northerner, but he had more Southern charm than half the
population of Charleston. She’d love to take him there one day, have him meet
her mother.

Oh no.
She gave herself a shake, wiping the idea from her head. Jack
was not hers for keeping. Just hers for enjoying right now.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “You gave a
little shudder there.” He stood, pulling off his suit jacket and putting it on
her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said, unable to turn down
the sweet gesture even though she wasn’t cold. She smiled at the sight of him
in a shirt and tie. They fit him impeccably, not too tight, not too loose. Yet
still his muscles revealed their size beneath the cotton blend.

“What?”

He must have noticed her grinning at him.
“I just have never seen you in a suit,” she said. “A real suit. I
mean—civilian. You’re always dressed casually or in your uniform.”

He cocked his head. “And does the sight
please you, milady?” he asked playfully, brushing his lips against her hand.

“Yes. Yes, it definitely does.” Something
about seeing him this way made her picture it—him headed in to a normal
office job in DC or Baltimore. Cup of Starbucks in the car with him as he
sliced his way through rush hour traffic. Kissing goodbye the life of risk and
upheaval that comes with being in the military. And coming home to… someone
other than herself, of course.

Someone damned lucky.

Yet still, a man like Jack wouldn’t be
content living his life in a normal nine to five job. Pushing papers. Whittling
down the pile in his “in” box to only see it stack up again.

Jack was meant for the military. Same way
as his dad was, Maeve imagined.

“How many years was your dad in the
Marines?” she asked, and took a sip of her wine.

“The full thirty.”

“Thirty? I thought it was twenty years
till retirement.”

“Twenty till officers can retire with
benefits. But you can stay in until thirty. Then, you’re out—unless they
promote you to Admiral. Or General in my dad’s case, since he was a Marine. But
he left as a full Colonel, and that’s something to be proud of, I think.”

“God, yes,” Maeve agreed. “So… an Admiral,
huh? Is that what you want to be when you hit thirty?”

 Seeing her empty glass, he poured
her more wine. “At this point, at thirty years I just want to be alive.” His
eyes flew up to hers, as though he knew how she would react. “Sorry. Didn’t
mean it like that. It’s just been a long war, you know?”

“Yeah.” She did know. Knew better than
she had only days ago. Something about spending so much time on base this week,
meeting other officers like Jack and talking to their families, made her see
first-hand how long the war had been.

“Most of my jobs are pretty dull,” he
assured her. “Not risk-free, but I think sometimes the commute into DC can be
riskier.”

Maeve nodded, relieved to hear his words.
“You’re not kidding. I wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of getting a
job in there. Highway 50’s even worse than I-97 in the morning.”

“But now you don’t have to.” Jack raised
his glass. “We really should toast. To Maeve Fisher Designs, Annapolis’s latest
successful business.”

She raised her own. “And to the man who
put it on the map.” She sipped as she took his other hand, wondering how she’d
ever let it go.

With the window open, Bess could hear the
gentle laughter of her friends coming from the back porch. Sliding a fresh
diaper underneath Abigail, she smiled. Things were exactly as they were meant
to be. Lacey and Mick. Maeve and Jack.

She frowned momentarily, glancing out the
window. “The cheese stands alone.”

A little coo from Abby snapped her eyes
back to her precious child. “Not with you in my life, I’m not alone.” She
lifted her, cradling her, savoring the feel of Abby’s soft skin against her,
and breathing in her scent as though it brought her strength.

Because it did. It really did.

She laid her down in her crib and turned
on the mobile. Stepping back, she watched Abby’s eyes transfixed on the little
fairies as they traveled in a circle around her head.

They’d be okay. She’d make sure of that. Thanks
to Maeve, she had saved up enough money for a nice apartment and she was only
weeks away from getting her degree. But God, she’d miss this place if Maeve
decided to leave Annapolis to be with Jack. Maeve hadn’t mentioned anything
about it, but Bess thought she better prepare herself for the inevitable.

It made her happy, really it did, she convinced
herself as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a brownie from the counter. Heck,
she had practically pushed the two of them together these past weeks. They were
meant to be together. Just like Lacey and Mick.

And Bess and… Abigail. She nodded a
little to herself. They were a team, the two of them. She didn’t need anyone
else.

Leaning against the counter, she looked at
Lacey’s luggage, already packed and leaning against the wall by the garage door.
Tomorrow she and Mick would be flying out to San Diego for a couple days to look
at houses. Lacey was so eager to take this next step in their relationship.

Houses
. She shook her head, trying to imagine Lacey living
anywhere but here.

It had only been two years that she’d
lived here with her friends. Yet it seemed so much longer. Her life had been
split into two chapters. Before Annapolis. And after.

The after was so much better than the
before.

Opening the back door, she was comforted
by the sight of her friends around the table, just as they had been so many
times before. This might be the last time she’d see them this way, drinking
their beers and playing Scrabble like a bunch of board game addicts.

“Abigail asleep?” Maeve glanced up from her
tiles.

“Probably will be in about two seconds.” Bess
sat beside her.

“Don’t get chocolate on the tiles, Bess. We’ll
end up with ants in the closet again.” Maeve frowned. “Not to be critical, but
isn’t that your third one?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with me
these days.” Of course, she knew what was wrong. For her, anxiety was a monster
that demanded to be fed. And watching everyone in her household go separate
ways was more difficult than she’d ever admit to her friends.

Mick reached for a handful of nachos. “It’s
boredom. You’re 23. You should be out tonight rather than hanging out with a
bunch of thirty-something cronies like us.” He crunched on a chip. “Jack and I
need to find you a nice ensign.”

Lacey smiled knowingly. “I think if Bess
were to fall for someone in uniform it would be an Army guy.”

Mick and Jack glanced at each other.

“Not that cadet. Taylor.” Jack said his
name with a disdain.

“Tyler,” Bess corrected. “And he’s not a
cadet anymore. He’s a Ranger-qualified second lieutenant,” she added, a hint of
pride in her voice.

Mick narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like
him. Sends too much West Point propaganda.”

“They’re Army t-shirts and onesies for
Abby, Mick. Not propaganda.”

“And there was that West Point
cheerleader outfit. What one-year-old has one of those?” Jack took a sip of his
beer. “Obviously he’s trying to recruit Abigail. And if she’s going to put on
any uniform when she grows up, it’ll be Navy. It’s far more cerebral.”

Mick tilted his head in Jack’s direction.
“I get shot at too much to call the Navy cerebral.”

“We’re just friends, guys,” Bess interrupted.
“He’s still got a girlfriend. One who is about six sizes smaller than me who
doesn’t have a butt that cascades halfway down her thighs.”

“Your butt doesn’t cascade anywhere,”
Maeve defended. “And you had a baby. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I had a baby a year ago. And I weigh as
much now as I did when I was six months along.”

Jack snatched the other half of the
brownie that Bess had just set down on a napkin. “You look fine. And these are
damn good brownies you made. Worth every fat cell.”

“Says the guy who works out daily,” Bess
tossed at him.

 “So? Come running with me one day. We’ll
get you one of those jogging strollers. Maeve, you in? We can make it a morning
thing.”

Maeve smiled slyly. “If I wake up before
dawn with you, there’s something I’d much rather do than go jogging.” She
leaned in and gave him a sultry kiss.

Bess rolled her eyes. It was her only
defense. “So first I had to put up with Lacey and Mick, and now I have to
survive you and Jack? I’m a haggard, undersexed mom trapped in a house with two
blissfully happy couples. My life is so depressing.”

Jack’s lips were still a breath away from
Maeve’s, as he glanced at Bess. “Sorry, kid. You’re on your own running. But I
wouldn’t sweat it. I don’t understand why women obsess so much about looking
perfect.” He kissed Maeve again briefly before settling back into his chair. “A
guy goes blind out of gratitude if he gets you to bed, anyway.”

Maeve laughed. “Is that how it is?”

“Hell, yeah. Right, Mick?”

“Yup. Lacey could have a tattoo of Howard
Stern on her chest and I wouldn’t even know it.”

Bess smiled. As crude as they could be,
Jack and Mick always had a way of making her feel better. They were like the
big brothers she never had, and always wanted. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I
don’t date. I’m a mom, remember?”

Maeve’s eyes didn’t leave her tiles as
she shifted them around, looking for inspiration. “So what? Hey—how about
that guy who came to give an estimate for spraying our yard for mosquitoes? I
saw you drooling out the window after he left.”

Bess sighed. “Yeah. Call me crazy, but
there’s nothing sexier than a man who’s that cute and rids our yard of
mosquitoes. When he pulled up in his big black truck I thought I heard angels
sing.”

Jack snorted. “There have been stranger
attractions, I’m sure.”

Bess wiped a trace of frosting from her
hands with a napkin and put three tiles on the board. “Nothing strange about
it. You haven’t seen how those bugs come after Abigail. The man is my hero.”

Maeve jotted down Bess’s score. “Well,
he’ll be coming back two days before the wedding to spray. It’s either that, or
hand out bug repellent for the party favors.” She plunked down a few tiles. “Read
it and weep.”

“Ouch. Another triple word score for
Maeve,” Lacey said, finishing off her glass of Chardonnay. “Speaking of party
favors. Any ideas? ’Cause I’m clueless.”

“Shouldn’t it be something to go along
with the theme?” Bess asked.

“And our theme is… what? I hadn’t really
thought about it.” Lacey’s eyes darted back and forth among her friends.

Jack’s shoulders sagged. “We need a
theme?”

Maeve tilted her head. “You want a theme?
Here it is: shotgun wedding. Because if we manage to pull this off with less
than two weeks left, it will definitely qualify.”

“Not shotgun. It’s a SEAL wedding. It
should be an HK416,” Mick suggested.

“Lovely. An HK416 themed wedding. How
romantic.” Maeve took a sip of her Fresca, having already hit her limit on wine
that evening. “We’ll give out little tea lights shaped like machine guns.
Perfect.”

“The guys would love it.”

“Seriously, though,” Maeve began, stretching
her arms out to the Bay. “That’s our theme. Waterfront. The Bay. Navy. With a
view like that and a bunch of hot SEALs swarming the scene, that’s all the
theme we need.”

“Hot SEALs?” Jack pulled her neck closer
possessively and planted a kiss on her lips so hot it actually made Bess feel a
pang of jealousy. “I better remind you who you are going home with that night.”

 “I don’t need a reminder.” Maeve
grinned. “Oh, hey—how about this? We’re doing a candy bar, right? So we could
get some glass jars engraved with Lacey and Mick’s names on them, and guests can
fill them with candy. Maybe have a little wave design or a sailboat or skyline
of Annapolis on them. Something like that.”

“Engraved? You’re dreaming. We’d never
get that in time.”

Mick leaned forward. “I have an idea.”

Maeve eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah, sure.
Not up for one of your jokes now. We need to be serious about this.”

“I
am
serious. I have an idea. We
could probably get nice looking mason jars and wrap them in some kind of
adhesive label with guests’ names on them and the wedding date on it. Print
them out on my color printer. That won’t take any time at all. We can even put them
out on the tables and they can double as place cards. Then guests can fill them
with candy at the candy bar.”

Maeve looked at him blankly.

Mick’s brow furrowed. “What? Don’t you
like the idea?”

Maeve’s eyes widened. “I think it’s
great. But I just can’t believe a SEAL with a six-pack and a Navy Cross knows
what a mason jar is.”

Lacey snorted. “They’re really trendy in
weddings right now. And I’ve made him watch at least twenty hours of those wedding
shows on TLC.”

Jack raised his bottle in Mick’s
direction. “That’s taking one for the team, my brother.”

“No shit.”

“Quarter!” Bess called out with
enthusiasm. Maeve had put an empty jug out on the kitchen counter labeled “Bad
word jar” that night, and anyone who said something foul had to make a 25-cent
offering toward Abby’s college fund. At the rate her friends were swearing tonight,
she’d have a year at NYU covered by the end of summer.

“Again?” Mick grumbled.

Maeve glared. “Hey, I had to do something
to clean up the language around here. Abby’s due to say her first word any day
now, and I don’t want her talking like a sailor, even though she is surrounded
by them. Now pay up.”

Mick reluctantly rose, reaching into his
pocket. “I’m going to go broke around here.” He stopped in the doorway and
turned. “So what do you think? We can buy some jars this weekend, put on the
labels, and we’ll be GTG.”

Maeve raised her eyebrows. “GTG?”

“Good to go,” Mick and Jack responded in
unison.

 “I really need to brush up on my
acronyms to survive around you guys.” Bess handed Mick Lacey’s wine glass. “Lacey
needs a refill while you are in there, Mick.”

“No, I don’t,” Lacey protested.

“Actually—” Bess began with a sigh,
“—you do. And get yourself another beer while you’re at it, Mick,” she
called toward the door.

Lacey looked concerned. “What’s going
on?”

“Well,” she began, pausing until Mick had
returned, drinks in hand. “I’ve been dreading telling you this, but I got an
email from the caterer. Seems they double-booked us with a bar mitzvah. And the
bar mitzvah won. She says they don’t have enough staff to cover two events.”

“What do you mean?” Lacey’s face paled.

“We have no caterer.”

Maeve’s eyes bugged out. “And you’ve been
sitting on this information all night?”

“I thought they’d take it better after a
couple drinks,” Bess told her.

“Probably smart there,” Maeve said under
her breath.

Bess could swear she saw steam rising
from Mick’s head. “We’ve got 110 people showing up in two weeks. 30 of them are
hungry SEALs. What are we going to feed them?”

“Raw fish?” Maeve offered, and Bess
suppressed a snort of laughter, seeing the lethal look Mick shot her in
response. Maeve shrunk in her seat. “Sorry, hon. You walked right into that
one. I couldn’t resist.”

Lacey’s eyes were filled with panic. “Can
they do that? I mean, we have a contract. We should call a lawyer.”

“And that would gain us what? A mountain
of lawyer’s fees? I think the best thing we can do is just give them a really
shitty review online.” Grumbling another curse, Mick stood up.

“Where are you going?” Bess asked.

“I’m putting a twenty in the quarter
jar—for all the words that I’m about to say,”

“Well, keep your twenty for a minute
longer, because I have an idea.” Bess bit her lip. “How about I do the
cooking?”

Mick dropped back down into his chair,
and the room fell silent.

Lacey’s mouth hung open a bit. “There
will be, like 110 people, maybe.”