Page 21 of Ex-SEAL Bad Boy

She nods in appreciation, gripping the wheel harder.

I know how she feels. The first time I drove this car, it was a magical experience, almost better than sex ...

She’s a surprisingly skilled driver. We fly down the highway, at one point topping one hundred, before she slows it down, pulling over and sliding to a stop.

“Wow!” she says almost breathlessly. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You surprise me,” I tell her as we switch places.

“I don’t know what came over me. I guess I took one chance accepting your proposition, why not double down?”

“Why not?” I repeat.

Settling into the driver’s seat, I pull out on the highway and turn around in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” she asks. “My car.”

“It’s perfectly safe, we’ll come back for it later.”

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into my driveway and parking in front of my little bungalow – my fifteen hundred square foot bungalow. The Blackwoods are like Texas, we do everything big.

“I figure if you’re going to be my ‘wife’, I should at least offer you a tour of the house.”

Sophia’s family is far from poor, but I can tell she’s impressed with my little corner of the family compound.

“Nice,” she says, looking around and obviously trying to appear noncommittal.

“I know,” I tease her sarcastically. “So twenty-first century gaudy, right? I’m having a decorator come in next week.”

“Don’t redecorate on my account,” she snaps back.

I enjoy her sense of humor. She gets me.

“Let me show you the bedroom,” I suggest.

"Why, Mr. Blackwood,” she says, putting on her most exaggerated Southern belle accent, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

I shake my head and lead the way up the stairs.

My bedroom is large and masculine, but not ostentatious. That's not really my thing. It's utilitarian and suits me well. The king-sized bed is flanked by a couple of built-in bookcases, mostly filled with interesting trinkets like baskets and figurines I had acquired while traveling the world.

A large computer monitor sits atop a utilitarian desk tucked away in one corner and a couple of well-cared-for potted plants are strategically located in front of two enormous picture windows that face the beach.

I feel that vibe is understated and mature. The only monument to myself is a shadowbox on one shelf containing the few servicemedals I had earned and my prized SEAL trident insignia at the top.

“Well, well, Mr. Blackwood,” Sophia says, wandering over to the window and staring out over the open waters of the Atlantic, “nice place you have here.”

“It’ll do – for now,” I reply, walking up beside her and wrapping my arm around her waist. “I’ve been looking for a place of my own. I want to stay nearby. I like it here, but I need to be out on my own, away from my parents.”

“What’ll you do?” she turns to me, her face serious. “I mean, I guess you have the money to lie around being a beach bum, but that’s not you, is it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I did have plans to strike out on my own, but my father quashed that before I even had the chance. They want me to go to law school, and I dunno, take over the family business or whatever. I have no interest in that. The money is good, of course, but what do I need with that at this point?”

“Word is, you have a lot of powerful people in your pocket, or at least your dad does,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and that does open a lot of doors, but it’s their willingness to destroy people that bothers me. I’ve never been one to respect authority, and probably never will be, but having been a member of a team, I learned that not everyone will always agree on everything, and the solution is not to eliminate those who disagree with you.”

“Enough about them,” I change the subject and sigh. “Look, honestly, one of the only reasons I agreed to work on this thing with the adoption is it meant I would get to spend more time with you. I know this pretending to be married thing will be weird, but it’ll work out.”

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