Page 9 of Protected By the SEAL
“Hotel minibar whiskey usually is. But what do you expect at a winery?”
“Remember that time in college when you brought that awful bourbon to my dorm?” She smiles at the memory. “Said it would put hair on my chest.”
“You threw up in my shoes.”
“You held my hair back.”
She goes quiet, staring at the tiny bottle in her hands.
“Can I ask you something?” she says eventually.
“Anything.”
“Why do you keep turning down dates?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“I’ve heard Jake and the guys mention it. That you turn down women who ask you out.” She’s picking at the label on the bottle, her eyes not meeting mine. “Why?”
“Because I haven’t met the right person,” I say.
“What would the right person look like?”
In a bright flash of clarity, it comes to me.You, I think.She’d look exactly like you. Where the hell did that come from? Has my ideal woman really been standing in front of me all these years and I’ve been too blind to see that? I’ve been so scared about losing her from my life that I sometimes forget how we kissed all those years ago.
“I don’t know. I haven’t found someone who...” I trail off, very aware of how close she is, how little she’s wearing, how much I want to pull her into my lap and show her exactly what I mean.
“Someone who what?”
“Someone who can put up with all my bullshit and still like me at the end of the day,” I finally say. It’s the truth, but not the full truth.
She turns to look at me and tilts her head slightly. “That’s a pretty short list.”
“Yeah.”
“Kane...”
“We should talk about tomorrow,” I say, needing to deflect before I do something stupid. “What’s the plan?”
“More family torture,” she sighs. “There’s some kind of group activity in the afternoon. Wine tour or spa day or something. Then the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be right there with you.”
“I know.” She shifts, her head dropping onto my shoulder. “That’s the only reason I can do this.”
We sit in comfortable silence, drinking terrible whiskey and watching a movie on the TV. Her breathing gradually evens out,her body relaxing against mine. After a few minutes, I realize she’s fallen asleep.
I sit absolutely still, not wanting to wake her. She murmurs something incoherent, hand curling into my shirt.
Carefully, I shift us both, lifting her in my arms. She mumbles against my chest but doesn’t wake. I tuck her into my bed, planning to take the chair, but as I start to move away, her hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.
“Don’t go,” she mumbles, still mostly asleep.
I should resist. Should maintain some boundaries. But the way she’s looking at me, soft and unguarded...
“Okay,” I whisper.
I climb in beside her, staying on top of the covers. She immediately rolls into me, seeking warmth, her head on my chest, her leg hooked over mine. My arms come around her automatically.
