Page 22 of Rescued by a SEAL

Chapter 6

Taylor blew out a sigh as Amy pulled to a stop in front of Taylor’s apartment building. The clock on the car’s dashboard read 11:17. It had been another busy night at Anchors, with running orders for table after table all night. Normally she didn’t mind the weekend rush, but a part of her had hoped that Mason would show up during her shift.

Which was silly.

He and his Navy friends had just been there the night before. She usually saw him when she saw him, and that was that. They already had plans for the next day. He’d sent her a string of texts that afternoon. Yet her stomach had fluttered every time the door had opened, and she’d secretly hoped he’d come walking in.

“When’s your car supposed to be ready?” Amy asked, unlocking the doors. “It seems like they’re scamming you holding it for so long.”

“Soon. Supposedly. And I know—the shop is owned by my ex’s friend. I’m pretty sure he’s giving me the run around just to be a jackass.”

“You should send those guys you know over to pick it up for you. The Navy SEALs? One look from them, and they’ll be handing over your keys.”

“Yeah, Mason actually offered to go with me. If I don’t get it back soon, I might have to take him up on it. I can’t keep having everyone drive me around. Thanks again for the lift,” she said, opening the passenger door.

“Are you off tomorrow?” Amy asked.

Taylor smiled as she peeked back into the door. “Yep. Mason and I are going out.”

“Wait—we’ve been working together all day, and you are just now mentioning that?” Amy shrieked.

“Like you said, we were working. I didn’t get a chance.”

“Uh-uh. Well I’m working all day tomorrow, so have fun, sister. He’s a hottie. I want to hear all the details next time.”

“You bet. Thanks again,” she said, closing the passenger door. Heat flushed across her cheeks, despite the coolness in the night air. Goodness. Every single time she even thought of Mason, her entire body alighted with warmth.

It had been that way for months—waiting their table had been excruciating at first. She’d been sure she’d drop the entire tray of drinks with the way her hands shook or trip right in front of him and make a fool of herself.

Not that they gave her a hard time—a couple of the other guys had ribbed Mason about her a bit. And she’d certainly known that he was interested in her. But every time those blue eyes met hers, she’d felt like he could see right through her. It was as if he could look past her hesitancy around him, her nervousness, and see straight into her very soul.

Amy’s car pulled away, and Taylor crossed the parking lot toward her apartment building, gazing up at the faint stars in the sky. Adrenaline pumped through her, and she had the crazy urge to go down to the beach. She’d love to walk along the sand in the darkness, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. Clearing her head. Letting the cool breeze wash over her.

Not that she’d feel comfortable venturing there alone at this time of night. Although it was a relatively safe area, walking around alone in the dark wasn’t necessarily a smart move. Ever.

The boardwalk was relatively safe with all the hotels and restaurants that ran along it, but the quieter north end of the beach where she lived was secluded at this time of night.

She squinted up at the stars again, but the lamplights in the parking lot and light coming from the apartments kept her from really seeing them well.

She walked into her apartment building, similar to the walk-up garden style one her best friend Bailey lived in. She lightly climbed the open staircase, not wanting to wake her neighbors.

The sound of a TV came from behind one door, and laughter erupted behind another, but she knew some families had young kids and babies that were fast asleep.

When she reached the third floor, she turned toward her own apartment as she dug her keys from her purse and gasped.

Eric lay slouched over, passed out on her doormat, a smooshed bouquet of flowers next to him. His chest rose and fell slightly, and she took in his rumpled appearance. His tee shirt was slightly pulled out from his jeans, an empty beer can lay crushed next to him, dark circles were under his eyes, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in several days.

She hedged slightly closer, and heard his quiet snore.

Shit.

If she opened the door to her apartment, he’d fall into her foyer.

What was she supposed to do? Drag his large body out of the way?

She looked at the other doors in the hallway, as if that would somehow give her an answer. Maybe if someone came out they could help her move him?

But then what if he woke up?

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