The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (9 page)

Damn. Maeve hated it when someone over a
decade younger than her was completely right… again.

“Are you going to see him again?” Lacey
asked.

“Sure I will, but—”

“—probably more as a friend,” Bess finished
for her.

“Yeah.” Maeve’s mouth pinched downward on
one side. “Honestly, I don’t think he even seemed that into me. We just weren’t
clicking in… that way.”

Lacey set down a completed votive,
admiring her work. “Captain Shey’s been around the block, Maeve. He’s not the
younger guy you usually date. He could probably tell your heart wasn’t in it.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know what’s wrong
with me, though. He’s everything I should be attracted to. He’s perfect for
me.” Maeve puffed out her cheeks and let out a slow breath. “There’s something
wrong with me.”

“The only thing that is wrong is that
you’re in love with Jack, and you’re trying to date someone else.”

“You mistake lust for love.”

Bess and Lacey exchanged a glance.

“Okay. I love Jack,” Maeve conceded, “but
I’m not in love with him.”

Bess sighed. “Maeve, you started falling
in love that moment you laid eyes on him in O’Toole’s, and now you’re a hundred
feet deep in it.”

Maeve set down the glue gun and flicked
the switch off. “Well, I better climb my way out of it, because he’s not for
me.” Pressing her fingers against her temples, she rose. “Lacey, where’s that aspirin?”

Jack bounded down the steps from a home that
bordered the grounds of the Academy’s Worden Field. His eyes were drawn to
Maeve’s sassy stride two steps ahead of him, and an appreciative smile crept up
his face.

Damn, she was a sight in her snug pencil skirt
and light blouse that fluttered in the tiniest breeze. “So, what do you think? Can
you do something for him?” he asked.

It had been harder than he had suspected
to find someone willing to take him up on an offer of a free interior designer.
Most guys he ran into at work were pretty content with their bland décor. But Logan,
a freshly promoted Lieutenant Commander who had just PCSed from California,
seemed pretty happy with the deal when he first laid eyes on Maeve.

His possessive side bearing its ugly
head, Jack frowned at the memory of how Logan had looked at her. Jack’s reaction
had been nothing less than caveman.

Oblivious, Maeve practically skipped down
the brick walkway. “He doesn’t have many accent pieces to work with. Really
nice books though. I’ve got to find a good way to display them. They just
shouldn’t be boxed up like that. His sofa’s pretty tired, but with a slipcover
and a few pillows on it, it will be good as new.” Still walking, she turned to
Jack. “What is it with you guys and sofas? Yours looks like it came
from—”

“—Craigslist. I know. You’ve told
me already.”

“Oh.” Maeve looked nonplussed. “Blue
seems to be his favorite color.”

“That goes with being in the Navy.”

“But the house is too dark for me to use
too much. I’m thinking a textured cream with gold accents would work better.”

Her stride was quicker these days now
that she seemed to favor flats instead of heels. He enjoyed the new look,
simply because of the way her hips now swayed swiftly as her long legs flew
along the tree-lined sidewalk two steps ahead of him again.

He must look as pathetic as he felt
sometimes with her—following her around like a puppy dog. Eager for any
scrap she sent his way. Purposefully, he picked up his pace. “He’ll like that
since he graduated here. Blue and gold are our colors.”

“He’s cute, too. I’ll definitely take
some pictures of him sitting in his place when I’m done with it. It’ll look
great on my blog. Ugh. Who came up with that word, anyway? ‘Blog.’ Sounds like
something bad. ‘I’d love to go to the party, but I’ve got a touch of the
blog.’”

Jack barely heard her. “You think he’s
cute?”

Maeve froze and studied him, a pert smile
creeping up her face. “What? Are you jealous?”

“Of course not.” He hated that she
noticed. It was pitiful enough to have traded Bess fifteen babysitting hours
for information on what time Maeve got home from her date. Eleven, Jack had
been thrilled to hear. “You just talk about men like they’re pieces of meat.
You’re a chauvinist.”

Maeve shrugged, as if to say, “Tell me
something I don’t know already,” and continued walking toward his truck. “And
his whole story about wanting to adopt a dog, but not being able to because he’s
always deploying? That couldn’t be any sweeter if I topped it with frosting. I’ve
got to work that in to the blog entry, too.”

“See? You’ve got a knack for this.”

“And I love that he’s a SEAL.”

“Former SEAL,” Jack corrected.

“I have to put that in there, too. Everyone
loves a SEAL, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jack deadpanned. Having
reached his truck, he opened her door for her. “I’ve got a couple other folks
lined up, too. One’s got a little girl who has never really had a bedroom that
she could decorate because they moved so much.”

Maeve’s expression warmed. “Aww. I’m
going to do something amazing for her. Maybe something princessy or a fairy
wonderland, depending on what she likes.”

“You might be surprised. She likes
astronauts. Not fairies or princesses.”

“I’ll be damned.” She leaned against the truck
for a moment thoughtfully, her eyes drifting to the waves beating at the rocks
along the Severn River.

Jack resisted the urge to sandwich her
between him and his Ford, planting a warm kiss on her lips.

“Good for her,” she continued, unaware of
his yearnings. “Thanks for driving me. Always a pain to not be able to drive
past security.”

“Gotta marry military to get in on your
own, Maeve.”

“Ahh, there’s a price for everything.” She
took a deep breath, seeming to savor the cool breeze blowing off the water. “But
to have access to this view, at least I’d get more out of it than my last
marriage.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” he agreed. As
she climbed into his truck, her skirt hiked up a couple inches and his gaze
lingered before he slammed the door shut.
Pretty, indeed.

Climbing in, he glanced at Maeve. “Hungry?”

“Famished. But I’m not letting Bess cook
tonight.”

“Something wrong?”

“Abigail was up last night. Bad dream or
something. Bess couldn’t get back to sleep. She slept on the couch downstairs
so she could be close to her crib in case she woke up again.” She fastened her
seatbelt. “I’m thinking of moving Abigail into Lacey’s room after she leaves
for San Diego. Then maybe turning the downstairs bedroom into an office for
me.”

“Love the idea. Let me know when you need
to move the furniture and I’ll stop by.”

“You’ll be gone by then, won’t you?”

Struck by the reality, he felt an odd
sense of loss. “You’re right.” Who would help Maeve take care of her to-do list
when he was gone? Logan, the new Lieutenant Commander with the fresh California
tan? Jack’s lip curled at the image.

“So anyway, thought we’d order pizza,”
Maeve said.

“Works for me. Let’s pick up a couple
pizzas from Donatello’s on the way home. They’re better than delivery.” Eyes
locked on the rear view mirror, he pulled out of the tight space, being extra
careful as he noticed the DoD sticker with stars on the windshield of the car
behind him. Best not to bump the car of an Admiral.

“Still up to putting the arbor together tonight?”
she asked.

“I better be. Wedding’s around the
corner. We can’t count on many more clear nights and we still need to stain it.
We’re pushing things enough already. I think all my sisters have started a
betting pool about whether or not we can pull off a wedding on such short
notice.”

“We’ll pull it off.”

Donatello’s was a short drive off base,
and they lucked out with parking, sliding into a space right in front of the
door.

Maeve glanced at her watch after they
made their order standing in front of the cash register. “Thirty minutes till
it’s ready? I’m dying here,” she commented.

“Let’s grab a table out front and get an
appetizer while we wait.” They stepped into the fresh spring air again and
grabbed the last table for two. Donatello’s outdoor seating was slim, a few
tiny tables overlooking Spa Creek. He pulled a chair out for Maeve.

“This is a nice view for a pizza place. You’ve
been here before, I take it?”

Jack nodded. “Best pizza in Naptown. And
my Italian father agrees with me. We came here on our first trip to Annapolis
to check out the Academy back when I was in high school.” He smiled at the
memory. “Want a glass of wine?”

“You know, I think I will. I feel kind of
like celebrating.”

“I like the sound of that. What are we
celebrating?”

“My first client as an independent
designer. And I might have two drinks so that I forget that I’m doing it for
free.” She laughed. “Do they have a wine list?”

Jack snorted. “This is a pizza joint,
Maeve. It’s white or red here.”

Maeve rolled her eyes lavishly. “You do
spoil a girl, Jack,” she said sarcastically.

“I save the spoiling for the women I’m
dating. You’ve made it pretty clear you’re not going to be one of them.”

The light that he had seen in her eyes
extinguished, and he immediately regretted saying it, though he had no idea why
the words had struck her the wrong way.

When the waitress appeared, Jack ordered
drinks and appetizers.

Maeve pressed her lips together thoughtfully
a moment, and then said, “Mick finally found a Navy chaplain who wasn’t booked
that Saturday.”

“I didn’t know he was having trouble with
that.”

“Oh, yeah. Lacey was so worried. Wanted
me to look into getting ordained so I could do the ceremony myself.”

Jack burst out laughing.

“Why is that so funny?”

“The idea of you standing in front of a
bunch of people and talking about marriage. You trash-talk the institution like
a gifted pro.”

“Do I?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Her face fell. “How awful. I really
should watch that. Especially with the wedding coming up. Do me a favor and
smack me on the shoulder or something if I do it again, okay?”

“It will be my pleasure.” He gave her arm
a supportive squeeze, because she looked like she needed it.

“Oh—and we’ve got the florist
booked. They’re wonderful, Jack.” She absently took his hand in excitement and
just as the warmth of her skin had soaked in, she pulled her hand away. “They
even came out to the house to see what flowering plants would be in bloom in
June so that they can be sure to match the setting.”

Jack sighed. “Maeve, let’s stop talking
about the wedding.”

She looked perplexed. “What do you want
to talk about then?”

“Anything. Just not the wedding. It’s bad
enough I’ll be spending my Thursday night staining a wedding arbor we could
have lived without.”

“Hey. You said the arbor was gorgeous.”

“Great. I said it was great,” he
clarified. No straight man alive would refer to an inanimate object as
gorgeous. Maeve was gorgeous. The arbor was great. “But we could have lived
without it.”

“I just want it to be perfect for her.”

“It will be perfect.” He took her hand. “It
will be perfect if you stop stressing out about making it perfect. You’re going
to wear yourself out worrying.”

“Point taken.” She glanced at her watch. “No
wedding talk for the next 20 minutes till the pizza comes.”

“Good. All my sisters are married. This
is my third time being best man, and my eighth being a groomsman. I even walked
one of my sisters down the aisle when my dad was recovering from open heart
surgery. I’m pretty much wedding-ed out.”

“I didn’t know that.” She glanced up from
her wine glass. “About your dad.”

“See? That’s just it. I’ve probably spent
more time with you than any woman in my life except blood relations. But we
rarely really talk.”

“Is he okay now?”

“Healthy as a horse. Scared two years of
life off my mother though. It happened a week before my sister’s wedding and
she wanted to postpone, but my dad wouldn’t allow it. He’s as stubborn as a
mule.”

When the waitress brought them their appetizers,
Jack ordered two more to go.

Maeve’s eyes widened. “Hungry a little?”

“I might not be stateside much longer. I
want to enjoy real food while I can. You can’t get mozzarella balls and antipasti
in an MRE.”

“Are you excited to go?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, and then
shut it, looking out to the view of the water. “Not this time, no.” Tentatively,
he took a long pull of his beer. His eyes met hers and he soaked in her image,
memorizing it, and locking it away for later. “I needed more time here.”

“For what?”

“I’m thirty. Irish Catholic on one side
of the family and Italian Catholic on the other. The last in my family to not
get married. So you know I catch a lot of flack about it. But I’ve been at sea
so much, it’s kind of hard to meet a soul mate from a sub.”

Maeve reached for a calamari. “I can
relate to that. There’s something about thirty. I was 29 when I got married and
I really think I latched on to the wrong guy just because I saw that scary three-zero
looming in the distance.”

29, he thought. That was right after he
had met her, and he wondered if that had anything to do with why she had never
called him. A woman on a husband hunt wouldn’t want to waste time with a new
Academy grad who could only offer her a lengthy long distance relationship.

“And I’m from the South,” Maeve continued
with a wry smile. “My mother had been planning my wedding since I was two years
old, looking at wedding gown magazines in between pageants.”

“You were a pageant baby?”

“I have three crowns in my closet.”

“All this time, I never knew I was in the
company of royalty.”

Laughing, she continued. “So anyway, she
got what she wanted—big Southern wedding and a big Southern divorce.” She
sighed, taking another calamari as he extended one toward her. “Pageants back
then weren’t quite as over the top as they are now. But I definitely shimmered
too much for my dad to approve. And Gram—oh, she thought it was a
disgrace. She thought little girls should be in lace and silk bows rather than
lipstick and bling.”