Hot SEAL, Bourbon Neat (SEALs in Paradise) Read online

  “Now you owe me,” he called after her. “And you can bet I’ll be coming to collect.”

  6

  Asher was in a strange mood when he walked into Sundowner, Midnight Bay’s premier restaurant located on the roof of the main hotel. He was a decisive man who knew his own mind. He wasn’t used to feeling at odds, and it seemed the whole day had conspired to throw him off his game.

  For starters and much to his surprise, he actually enjoyed the day on the water. He swam for the hell of it. Combed a secluded beach looking for shells with Gracie. Lazed in the sun while tossing back an ice-cold beer with his mom. For a while there, he was reminded of a time before he became a SEAL, when the ocean wasn’t something that tried to kick his ass every time his feet cracked the surface. When the hot sand wasn’t something that dug into every available crevice and stayed there.

  As fun and relaxing as the day had been, exploring the islands with Mom and Gracie hadn’t taken the sting out of Brooke’s escape. Maybe escape was too dramatic a word, but damn if that hadn’t been how it felt. The woman had jumped off a moving boat to avoid spending the day with him. If he hadn’t felt her nipples harden to firm little nubs against his chest, he might’ve taken that shit personally.

  Oh, he knew why she took off like hell hounds were nipping at her heels. Springing his family on her had been a stupid, impulsive move. He still didn’t know why he’d done it. What had felt like the perfect plan in the moment now felt like a colossal fuck up he had no idea how to rectify.

  Asher surveyed the restaurant. There was a distinct lounge feel to the place. White tablecloths topped with glass. Each table had a large candle in the center, its flame protected by a surrounding vase. Soft music played through unseen speakers. Jazz or some shit. He couldn’t care less about any of it. All he wanted was to find Brooke and set things right between them.

  Sure, his ego had taken a serious hit when she bailed, but there was more to it than that.

  Fucking chemistry. Time hadn’t done a damn thing to lessen the explosive way his body responded to everything about her. Her taste, her touch, her sass. He couldn’t explain it. Didn’t have any desire to understand it. But goddamn if he didn’t want to dive in and drown himself in it.

  And then what? What happens when it’s time to leave again?

  He hurt her before—she’d been clear on that front. Hell, he hadn’t walked away unscathed, either, having her haunt his dreams over the years.

  They were staying at the same resort on a small island. What the hell was he supposed to do? Pretend he didn’t want to strip her naked and worship every inch of her until she went hoarse screaming his name?

  Asher flexed his fingers. Christ. He needed a drink.

  His mom and Gracie were sitting at a table on the far edge of the restaurant. He caught his mom’s gaze and waved an acknowledgement. She raised an empty glass, pointed to it, then toward the bar in the back. Mom-speak for another, please.

  Her timing couldn’t have been better. Asher changed course for the bar.

  “What can I get for you this evening?” the bartender greeted.

  “Two Pina Colada’s, one of those virgin, and a bourbon, best you got.” He prayed it was better than the stuff they stocked down at Cavalier’s, but at this point, he’d take what he could get.

  “Make that two bourbons and put all of those drinks on my tab,” a familiar voice said from behind him.

  Asher gripped the edge of the bar. His stomach threatened to flip over, tightening enough to catch his breath. There was only one reason he could think of that would warrant a face-to-face while he was on leave. Shit must’ve hit the fan somewhere.

  Asher slowly shook his head, as if with the motion he could deny the presence behind him. He had the sudden urge to hit something. Son of a bitch. He could already feel Mom and Gracie’s disappointment when he told them he had to go. And shit. Brooke. What would she think if he disappeared again? If he left now, she’d never give him another chance. And right then, faced with the possibility of never seeing her again, Asher realized he wanted another fucking chance.

  He was a selfish bastard to want anything from her when he had nothing but broken promises to give in return. He knew that. But, she got to him. A few measly hours with Brooke and he was already thinking about things he shouldn’t. Like how he wanted to bash the hotel manager’s face in for even looking at her.

  Maybe leaving was for the best. There was a reason he hadn’t stayed in touch. Brooke was a beautiful woman who deserved better than him. She deserved a man who could be there for her, by her side through thick and thin. A man who could give her every piece of himself. A man who could put her first.

  Asher hated that motherfucker already.

  Where was the goddamned bourbon he ordered?

  “If you need more time to finish the conversation going on in your head, Lieutenant, I can wait.” There was amusement in the man’s tone. “But I’m not going away.”

  Asher cursed inwardly. Plastering on his game face, he straightened to his full height, turned, and met the man’s stare.

  “Commander.” Asher bobbed his chin once and shook hands with the man who had been his dad’s best friend. The guy had aged well, Asher would give him that. The commander was in impeccable shape. His skin was tanned and slightly wrinkled around his mouth and eyes. His sandy blond hair had only recently begun to show signs of gray—just a hint mixed in with the blond.

  Navy SEAL Commander Joel Taylor had been a staple in Asher’s life. When his father died, Commander Taylor had done the best he could to be there for them through the rough patches of grief, showing up with pizza and diapers when he wasn’t off somewhere saving the world.

  The commander had been a major influence in Asher’s decision to join the teams. He also happened to be Asher’s commanding officer.

  “Is there a problem, sir?”

  The unease he’d been fighting all day doubled as Commander Taylor cast a glance toward the table where his mom and Gracie sat. Commander Taylor clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Let’s talk at the table.”

  For the first time since he turned around, Asher took note of the other man’s attire. The cargo shorts weren’t surprising, but the shirt with palm trees all over it was. As were the sandals.

  His already fucked up day went to a whole new level of surreal.

  Asher shook his head, trying to reconcile the relaxed looking guy before him with the stoic, unyielding man who commanded Naval Special Warfare Group One.

  “At ease, Lieutenant. I’m not here to hijack your leave.”

  And the surprises kept on coming.

  “What are you doing here?” While it wasn’t unusual for the commander to show up at his mom’s house on occasion, he’d never crashed a family vacation before. A tingling started on the back of Asher’s neck.

  “Grab those drinks,” Commander Taylor said as he took the Pina Coladas from the bartender.

  Knowing he wouldn’t get an answer until the commander was good and ready to give one, Asher offered a quick thanks for the drinks, picked up the two tumblers of bourbon, and followed Commander Taylor to the table.

  The commander slid into the seat next to Asher’s mom. Asher took the seat across the table, next to Gracie. He pushed one of the bourbons in front of the commander, willing him to start with the explanation. The way Gracie was smiling and bouncing her legs, Asher got the feeling he was the only one in the dark.

  The commander took a sip of his drink, studying him over the rim of the glass. Asher waited with the calm patience indicative of his training.

  The commander lowered his glass to the table with an authoritative thud. “I’ll skip right to the point. Your mom and I have something to discuss with you.”

  The tingling on his neck turned into an itch. Asher glanced between them, wondering when the commander and his mom had become a united front.

  “I’m all ears, sir.”

  “We’re getting married!” his mom blurted, her exc
itement spilling across the table into Gracie, who giggled and clapped her hands like she was six instead of sixteen.

  Asher consulted his glass. With a sip less than two fingers remaining there was no way he was drunk, which meant…

  We’re getting married.

  The words hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine, ready to split his family in half with the words I do.

  A minute passed. Maybe two. Asher wasn’t sure.

  He didn’t give a shit that the man sitting across the table was his superior, but he cared a fuck-ton that the guy had proposed to his mom, first without discussing it with him and second, knowing, knowing what it had done to all of them to lose his dad.

  The commander had been there. Had he forgotten his mom’s tears? The desperate cries for a man who would never come home again? Why in the hell would Commander Taylor want to put her in the same position again?

  Anger hit Asher hard. If the commander truly loved her, he wouldn’t.

  “Excuse me, what?” Not that he needed to hear the words again. Asher’s gaze continued to ping pong while his brain replayed them over and over in his head.

  Married. Getting married. Getting. Married.

  The commander slipped a hand under the table, most likely to put a meaty palm on his mom’s thigh. “Ellen. Sweetheart. We talked about this. You were going to let me talk to him first.”

  His mom didn’t look at all chastised. “I know, Joel, and I’m sorry. Do you know how hard it’s been to wait for you to arrive so we could spill the beans together?”

  The hardened expression Asher had come to expect from the guy slipped. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fly over with you.” When he reached to brush his fingers along his mom’s jawline, Asher averted his eyes skyward.

  How had he not seen this coming? He knew his mom and Commander Taylor kept in touch, but he didn’t know they’d been … touching.

  Jesus. Asher reached for the bourbon and brought it to his mouth for a healthy swig. “How long?” he asked through the burn.

  “We’ve been friends for years, son. You know that.”

  “Friends, yes. It’s the part between casual friendship and ‘we’re getting married’ that I’m fuzzy about. How long have you been involved?”

  Commander Taylor arched a brow, letting Asher know he didn’t appreciate the tone. “Does it matter?”

  At this point probably not, but he was becoming increasingly pissed off at being left out of the loop. He pointed an accusatory glare at Gracie. “You knew about this?”

  The squirt didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “Of course I knew. I live with Mom, remember? Hard to hide a thing like that when there’s a kid around.”

  Asher’s gaze shot back to Commander Taylor. “Is that what you were trying to do? Hide?”

  It was irrational for him to be angry that the commander would sneak around with his mom instead of showing her off as she deserved when he didn’t want them together in the first place. Apparently, the new reality he found himself in today was a fucked up mess of contradictions.

  “Asher,” his mom said softly.

  Watching the happiness drain from her face broke his heart in two. He’d done that. His hesitation had sucked the joy right out of her moment. As much as it killed him, her pain would be worse if she had to bury another husband.

  She reached across the table and squeezed his forearm. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

  Commander Taylor’s frown was a good indication that now was not the time to have this conversation. But Asher and his mom were nowhere near done talking about this. Nowhere near.

  “Of course I want you to be happy, Mom.” It was the absolute truth.

  “Then you’ll give us your blessing,” she said without preamble. His mom looked at the commander, then back at him. “Joel makes me happy.”

  Sure he did. For now. Until she remembered what life was like when she married a man who was married to the military.

  Not the time.

  Asher forced a smile. Unable to verbalize any type of blessing, he went with, “Have you set a date?”

  At least he’d have some time to convince his mom that she could do better. The commander was as good a man as they came, but his mom deserved all of the same things Brooke deserved. Things men like him and the commander couldn’t provide.

  “Sunday. We wanted to have some time as newlyweds before we return to California.” His mom glanced down at the table, her cheeks turning a bright crimson. Holy Christ. She was blushing now? Asher swallowed the rest of the bourbon, instinctively knowing he would need it to get through the rest of this conversation. His mom covered the commander’s hand with hers. “We didn’t know when we’d have another opportunity for all of us to be together. We didn’t mean to throw this at you all at once—”

  “And yet,” Asher mumbled into his tumbler and Gracie kicked him under the table.

  “—but I couldn’t get married without my kids with me. With the unpredictability of your schedule and Joel’s, we thought planning this trip, both of you taking leave, was the best way.”

  Asher bit his tongue, adding trickery to his mom’s growing list of offenses. She must’ve known he’d object, otherwise she wouldn’t have kept their impending nuptials a secret until now.

  Sunday. What the fuck? They gave him six days notice?

  The waiter stopped by to take their orders. Asher switched from bourbon to water. He was going to need some heavy cardio to clear his head after dinner, and running while intoxicated was a bad idea.

  Gracie and his mom launched into a discussion about the wedding, details and plans yet to be made. Asher paid enough attention to nod and smile at the appropriate moments, but his real focus was on getting through the meal as quickly as he could without seeming rude.

  Asher watched his mom and Commander Taylor with new eyes while they ate and the ladies planned. There was an undeniable affection between them that he could see clearly now. Sweet glances. Light touches. All the signs were right there for him to read.

  While discussing the wedding, his mom continually deferred to Commander Taylor. Every time, the commander insisted she do whatever would make her happy, saying whatever she chose would make the day perfect for him as well.

  Some men might say those words to get out of making decisions, but Asher knew the commander. He’d seen the man in a war room. He never flinched. Never hesitated to make a call, no matter how trivial. Commander Taylor genuinely meant it when he said his mom’s happiness would ensure his own.

  So, why? Why would the commander risk that happiness by offering her half a life?

  Asher needed to get the hell out of there before he asked that very question. As soon as the plates were cleared and the others had ordered dessert, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed away from the table.

  “I’m gonna bug out.”

  “Where you goin’?” Gracie gave him one of her trademark sarcastic smiles. “Got a hot date?”

  He immediately wondered what Brooke was doing. Was she hanging out with that Gregory guy? The thought irritated the shit out of him, but he shoved it deep.

  One fucked up situation at a time, thank you very much.

  Asher patted his flat, but full, stomach. “I’m going to go run off dinner before I hit the sack. It’s been a long day. Are we meeting for breakfast in the morning?”

  Concern pushed his mom’s brows together. “We’ve got a lot to do the next few days. Shopping and such. Will you be okay if we leave you on your own?”

  Asher couldn’t help but laugh. It didn’t matter how old he was, his mom would always see him as a little boy. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. At least with Commander Taylor tagging along, Asher wouldn’t have to worry about them. “I think I’ll manage. Call me if you need anything.”

  With a goodnight to his sister and a nod to the commander, Asher tried to take his leave.

  “Hold up, Lieutenant. I’ll walk you out.” The commander stood and jabbed a finger toward Gr
acie. “I’ll be right back. Touch my cheesecake and you’ll be grounded for life, Gracie-girl.” The warning lost all heat when the guy winked, causing Gracie to laugh and wave a fork at him.

  “I hear the cheesecake around here might be worth the punishment,” she sang, making their mom laugh.

  The ease with which Gracie accepted Commander Taylor as someone who had authority over her freedom—even in jest—spoke volumes about how clueless Asher had been.

  “Then we’d better hurry,” the commander said, giving Asher’s shoulder a playful shove.

  They fell into step, the silence tense, but not uncomfortable. Asher wasn’t in the mood to chat, but he couldn’t very well tell his commanding officer to fuck off, now could he? All he could do was wait to hear what the man had to say. Asher thought he might be home free as they approached the exit, but then the commander stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “You’re not happy about the news.”

  Asher didn’t bother trying to deny it. The commander would know he was lying because frankly, he was terrible at it. “As ridiculous as it sounds, it’s not personal, sir.”

  Commander Taylor chuckled softly. “I’ll keep that in mind. You want to tell me why?”

  The line between the guy being his commander and his future stepfather blurred. Made his tongue loose. He blew out a frustrated breath. “You should want more for her,” Asher snapped. “You can’t give her what she needs.”

  The change was instantaneous. Warm and fuzzy groom-to-be Joel Taylor disappeared, leaving the hardened leader of men behind. The commander growled low in his throat and stepped right into Asher’s space, bringing them almost chest to chest. “I can give her everything.”

  Asher wouldn’t back down. Not where his family was concerned. He held the commander’s stare. Didn’t fucking blink. “Yeah. I’ll bet that’s what my dad thought, too.”

  A fury contained by years of practice and discipline fired in the commander’s eyes. It was obvious the commander wanted to take a swing at him, and Asher almost wished he would. At least then something about his day would make sense.