Hot SEAL, Bourbon Neat (SEALs in Paradise)

  Hot SEAL, Bourbon Neat

  SEALS IN PARADISE

  Parker Kincade

  HOT SEAL, BOURBON NEAT

  SEALS IN PARADISE

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  PARKER KINCADE

  Copyright © 2018 by Parker Kincade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedication

  To my brother, Dave. For all the bottles we’ve shared and those we’ve yet to open. Thank you for having the patience of a saint when it comes to a pesky sister with a bazillion military questions.

  To the SEALs in Paradise authors: I am humbled and honored to be among you.

  And to Asher. Told you frolicking could be fun!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  More SEALs in Paradise

  Excerpt from One Night Stand

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Parker Kincade

  1

  Paradise.

  Asher “Knots” Dillon snorted to himself and raised the highball glass to his lips. The yellowish liquid barely resembled bourbon, but, hey, what did he expect from the land of rum and froufrou drinks?

  The weather on Grand Turks was a balmy eighty-five degrees, the sun so bright he squinted behind his Oakleys. He took a healthy gulp, swirling the alcohol around his tongue until his tastebuds burned in protest. It really was horrible bourbon.

  Christ. How the hell had he ended up here?

  “Ash! Come on!”

  Oh, right. Because his mom and sixteen-year old sister had planned this little vacay, and if being a Navy SEAL had taught him anything, it was that there was no fucking way the two most important women in his life were leaving the United States without protection. His mom, smart woman that she was, predicted his reaction and had booked a suite for him as well.

  So, here he was. On leave at the Midnight Bay Beach Resort in Turks and Caicos, where vacationers let loose, drank fruity drinks with ridiculous little adornments, and frolicked in the waves. Frolicked, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t people understand how dangerous the ocean could be? Oh, sure, it looked innocent enough, but Asher knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. Rip currents, shorebreaks, sharks—there were a thousand things that could go wrong when a person entered the water.

  Asher cringed as he took another sip of the rotgut. He wasn’t being fair. The general population wasn’t being dumped into the middle of the ocean in the dead of night with a hundred pounds of gear strapped to their bodies. He got that. In his defense, any man who made it through Hell Week of BUD/S training lost some, if not all, love for the water. Any SEAL who said differently was a motherfucking liar. The ocean wasn’t designed for recreation. It was deep and treacherous, with a mood that could change from calm to hell-on-earth in the space of a heartbeat.

  And don’t even get him started on the beach. His team had done enough time in the Gobi Desert that Asher swore he was still sweating sand out of his skin, months later.

  His idea of a good time, this was not. Give him mountains and snow and a decent goddamn glass of bourbon…

  Asher sighed.

  Maybe next year.

  “Asher!” Gracie bellowed again, drawing out his name as only a teenager could.

  As he raised a hand to wave an I see you. Carry on, preferably without me to Gracie, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over in time to see a woman at a table not far from him surge to her feet. From his position behind her, Asher couldn’t help but appreciate the view. Her light-colored hair was pulled into a ponytail. It ruffled in the breeze, teasing the golden skin between her shoulder blades. Her bathing suit was a one-piece that left her back exposed to the lower curve. And oh, what a back it was. Sleek and soft looking, with muscles that moved with elegant efficiency. She wore one of those oversized scarf-wrap things around her hips, but he could see enough of her legs to know she didn’t need heels to give her the illusion of delicious length. She had it in spades.

  Asher spent the day tossing out warning vibes to anyone who approached like they were beads at Mardi Gras, but if this woman had interrupted his solitude, he might’ve been inclined to ask her to join him. In his room. Naked.

  “I’m good, thanks,” the woman said, making Asher wonder what question he’d missed. Her voice had a vaguely familiar quality. Smooth as silk, with a steely-edged finish that caused a trail of pleasure to skirt down his spine.

  He gave himself permission to revel in the sensation. Work kept him so busy lately that he’d neglected meeting any need that wasn’t required to keep him alive. Now that he was on leave, he might have to see to his other, more carnal, needs.

  “I’ve got a private cabana down the beach.” The words dripped with innuendo, drawing Asher’s attention away from the pretty lady to the guy standing in front of her. A surfer-blond college type. No more than twenty, twenty-one, tops. Fucking frat boy if Asher had ever seen one.

  He looked like the other male vacationers on the beach with his bare chest and brightly colored board shorts. His head of messy curls needed a good shearing, and his expression was more leer than smile. The determined look in the frat boy’s eyes said he wouldn’t take no lightly. The way his friends were offering encouragement from a table close by proved the point.

  Damn it. Was it too much to ask to enjoy his shitty bourbon in peace?

  To her credit, the woman didn’t back down. “No, thank you. As I said before, I’m fine right here.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely fine.” Frat boy’s friends cheered and he tossed them a thumbs up.

  Really, douche? No means no. Back away.

  “I’m also definitely busy. I have work to do.” She tried to step around him, but frat boy followed, squaring off with her. “If I could just…”

  Frat boy spread his skinny arms. “Who works at the beach?”

  “I do.”

  “Take a break then. Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s have some fun.” Frat boy tipped a colorful girly drink to his lips. Not all of the slush made it into his mouth, though. He wiped away the portion sliding down his chin and then smeared it against his stomach with a smarmy grin.

  “Want a taste of my drink? It’s delicious.”

  Cue more laughter from the table o’ asshole. A few of them high-fived.

  Classy. Their parents should be so proud.

  Asher couldn’t take much more of this shit. Someone needed to teach these assholes some respect.

  He glanced away long enough to check on his mom. She was right where Asher had left her, stretched out on a lounge chair with her nose in a book. He scanned the water for Gracie. It took him less than a minute to catch sight of her. Gracie bobbed and danced in the waves with a group of girls, her expression alight with youth and happiness. If Asher had his way, Gracie would never know anything but whatever she was feeling in that moment. He wasn’t naive enough to believe he could shield her from the harshness of the world, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

  Satisfied
his mom was safe and Gracie wasn’t falling prey to fucktard frat boys, Asher refocused on the activity within the beachside bar.

  The kid hadn’t given up.

  “One drink,” he begged.

  “I’m sorry. Thank you for the offer, but I-I’m meeting someone.”

  Asher chuckled against the rim of his glass, liking her gumption. But if she wanted to be convincing about meeting someone, she shouldn’t have made it sound as if she’d just had the greatest idea in the history of ideas. The little minx wasn’t meeting anyone. She had just told one of those little white lies women used to get out of uncomfortable situations. Not that Asher blamed her. Frat boy was an ass.

  The woman moved to step around frat boy again, and again the kid blocked her way.

  “Excuse me. I need to order drinks for us. Not for you and me, us,” she clarified. “Me and him, us. So, please. Let me by.”

  Frat boy reached out. The woman tried to bat his hand away, but frat boy dodged her attempt and latched on. Asher zeroed in on the fingers that curled into her golden skin and his blood pressure went on the rise. Persistence, however futile, was one thing. Touching was quite another.

  Frat boy swayed his hips with the worst dirty dance move Asher had ever had the misfortune to witness.

  “I’ve got drinks in my cabana.” Frat boy licked his lips, his glance dropping to, Asher assumed, ogle the woman’s tits. “Your friend can come. I don’t mind sharing.”

  Frat boy clamped his other hand around her wrist and tugged her in close. Her audible gasp sealed the kid’s fate.

  “In fact…” Frat boy waved a come hither to some of his buddies. “I’ll bring some friends, too. We’ll make it a party.”

  Oh, you want to party, motherfucker?

  Asher downed the rest of the bourbon and slid from the barstool.

  Welcome to fucking paradise.

  “Look…” The woman’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.

  “Brett.”

  “Look, Brett. I appreciate the offer, but I really must decline.” The last words were annoyingly polite, but pushed through clenched teeth. “I don’t have time for this. I have work to do and my, um … my boyfriend will be here any minute.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  Frat boy really was daft. And he never saw Asher coming.

  With a strike worthy of a cobra, Asher’s hand engulfed Brett’s forearm. He squeezed in just the right spot and…

  “Ow! What the hell man!”

  Brett’s fingers shot open, releasing the woman with a reflexive jerk.

  “I do believe the lady said no. If you’re unfamiliar with the word, I’d be happy to give you a crash course.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Seemed frat boy hadn’t bought her boyfriend story either. Asher released the kid with a little shove. “I’m the guy who’s going to beat your sorry ass to a pulp if you don’t step off.”

  Asher caught movement from the asshole table and raised a palm toward Brett’s buddies. “Stay where you are,” he commanded, the transition from beach bum to SEAL as easy as breathing. “You don’t want any of this.”

  Surprisingly enough, they heeded his warning. Seemed Brett’s friends weren’t as dumb as their buddy.

  With the immediate threat averted, Asher finally turned his attention to the woman standing next to him. Eyes the color of frosted sapphires met his. His lungs heaved as recognition hit like a two-by-four to the gut.

  Holy shit.

  He would know those eyes anywhere. They’d been haunting his dreams, his fantasies, for years. It was her. Brooke Ramsey. His partner in a one-night stand that lasted for a glorious, sex-filled month. God, what had it been? Eight years?

  Brooke’s recollection was a split second behind his. Gratitude melted in a fiery blaze. If those icy blues could’ve shot laser beams, Asher would be dead where he stood. And maybe he was, because he never thought he’d see her again on this side of the pearly gates. That had been the plan anyway.

  He almost couldn’t believe it.

  Asher shifted closer, hungry to take her in. She was still a beauty. Her hair wasn’t just blonde. The wavy mass contained a plethora of yellow, gold, and red strands that glittered in the sun. Her striking eyes had golden lashes that wouldn’t quit. She had delicate girl-next-door features, highlighted by an array of adorable freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks.

  God, he’d missed those freckles.

  Asher opened his mouth to ask if she was okay and instead heard himself say, “Hey, sweetheart. Sorry I’m late.”

  Brooke’s smile was tight as she took a step back, then another, putting distance between them.

  “Your timing couldn’t be better, babe.” Oh yeah. Little Miss Too Polite was pissed. And she had every right, truth be told. “I was on my way to the bar to get us a couple of drinks, but as you can see, I got held up.”

  “I can see that.” Christ, she was cute. Asher didn’t miss her quick intake of breath when he took her hand, and yeah, he felt it, too—the unmistakable zing of attraction he’d felt earlier, stronger now that they were touching. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles as he raised them to his lips. Damn, she smelled good. Tropical and completely edible.

  She pulled her hand away with a nervous laugh. “So, ah, yeah.” She hooked a thumb toward the bar. “I’ll just go grab those drinks.”

  Asher hoped she didn’t bring him one of those fruity frozen jobs, but it would look suspicious if he told her what to order. He’d just pretended to be her boyfriend. Drink preference was the kind of thing couples knew about each other, right? He didn’t know. He didn’t do the couple thing. Being a SEAL wasn’t conducive to a lasting relationship. His own family was proof of that.

  His dad had been a SEAL, gone more days than he was home, before being killed in action when Asher was sixteen. Gracie had still been in the womb, and his mom had nearly been destroyed. If she hadn’t been close to giving birth, she might’ve let the grief take her. Even still, she’d walked around like a zombie for the first year. Asher helped where he could, but his mom struggled to raise an infant and a teenage boy on her own. She cried a lot back then, when she thought he couldn’t hear.

  Asher had joined the Navy when it became obvious he wasn’t cut out for college. He worked his ass off and became a SEAL at age twenty-four. His primary objective was to ensure his mom and sister were taken care of, but where he’d followed his dad’s footsteps into the Navy, he wouldn’t follow them into marriage. No way he would put a woman through what his dad put his mom through. The constant disappearances. The cancelled plans. The lengthy deployments. The stress over the dangerous job, a job Asher happened to love. It was easier to remain unattached.

  What he did couldn’t be considered dating. If he met a woman he found attractive and if she wanted to play, he was up front about expectations before the clothes came off. Lots of orgasms. Nothing more. Well, maybe dinner, before or after the sex. He wasn’t a complete jackass.

  “Would you like anything special this time?” Brooke asked and Asher had the urge to kiss her. He resisted, since he was pretty sure she’d punch him.

  He shook his head and glanced pointedly at the glass in Brett’s hand. “You know I don’t go for that girly shit. Bourbon, neat, is always gonna be my drink of choice, sweetheart.” He tried to sound apologetic, as if this was a discussion they’d had before.

  “Right. A real man’s man, aren’t you, babe.” Then, she surprised the hell out of him by rising up on her toes and whispering a breathy “Thank you,” close to his ear. Her lips caressed his cheek for the briefest of moments before she moved away.

  The nearness of her mouth to any part of his body lit him up like the night sky on the Fourth of July. Made him want to get reacquainted in a down and dirty kind of way.

  “Hurry back.” Asher tipped his head, watching as she weaved through the tables. Once she was safely placing their orders with the bartender, he turned back to Brett, whose stupid ass was still h
anging around.

  Asher straightened, dwarfing the kid. He crossed his arms, knowing the pose would make his biceps bulge in all the right places. He wasn’t above posturing if a guy had the size or bulk to back it up. He happened to have both.

  “You wanna explain what you were doing with your hands all over my girl?”

  Brett squared his shoulders. “Don’t have a cow, man. We were just looking to have a little fun.”

  Have a cow? The kid deserved to get his ass kicked for that expression alone.

  “Did she look like she was having fun to you?” Asher knew what kind of fun frat boy and his douchebags were looking for, and it boiled his blood.

  Frat boy smirked. “We would’ve made it good for her.”

  Asher dropped the pussy with one punch.

  “Unless you wanna wear your blood on the outside, I wouldn’t try it,” Asher cautioned the four guys at the asshole table who rose to their feet. The group varied in size, but Asher had no doubt he could take them if they were stupid enough to come at him. Keeping an eye on the group, he held a palm out to stay the now-concerned bartender and a wide-eyed Brooke. He had this. He didn’t need their interference.

  On the ground, Brett groaned as his friends argued in hushed tones.

  They were starting to attract a crowd. A few passers-by stopped in the sand. A couple of the beachgoers craned their necks around lounge chairs to see what was going on. Asher needed to shut this shit down before his mom and sister came running. He didn’t want either one of them anywhere near these bozos.

  “What’s the play here, boys?” Asher asked, giving them a chance to step up or step out.