Page 34 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

Thankfully, before I can dissolve into a puddle of goo, he adds, “This will give us a chance to strategize.”

“Strategize?”

His lips quirk. “Yeah. We need a game plan.”

“I thought you were a dive specialist, not a tactician.”

His quirk of a smile brightens into a grin. “Butterscotch, all Navy SEALs are tacticians. It’s kind of our thing.”

“Good point.”

He looks at the rest of the people on the plane, surveying them coldly. “Okay. Lay it out for me. Who are the major players here?”

I nod in the direction of the seats closest to the door where a handful of people are just settling in. “That’s Marcy and her husband Jack. Sitting with them are Stew and his partner Jay.”

I fill in a few details about them, but keep it short, after all, they’re not really the ones he’s interested in. When he makes a keep-it-moving gesture, I move on to the front of the plane where Delaney is being served her virgin mimosa. “And that’s Tripp.”

“Obviously. I recognize him from your social media.”

I shoot him a look. “You follow me on social media?”

His gaze goes dark. “Please tell me you didn’t just admit that you don’t keep track of the men who follow you.”

“Um … paranoid much?” I tease. But, of course, he does not take that well. “Yes, I know who follows me on Instagram. And I’m careful about who sees what. So, yeah, I knew you followed me on Instagram. I just never see you post there or like or comment any of my posts. So I was surprised. That’s all.”

I assumed he was never on there. Then again, my brothers rarely post on Instagram. I don’t know if that’s a male thing or a SEAL thing.

I nod in Delaney‘s direction. “The woman next to him is Delaney.”

“Miss Put a Ring On It.“

I chuckle at the nickname he’s given her. Presumably it’s based on the drunken DM I sent him one night right after Tripp broke up with me describing how Delaney came into the office that day wearing a three carat rock, announcing loudly every five minutes, “I guess he liked it, ‘cause he put a ring on it.” Gag.

I ate enough Tums that day to stave off osteoporosis for life.

“Who’s that with them?” Nick asks.

“That’s Tripp’s best friend and his wife.” I clear my throat, aware of how absurd this is going to sound to Nick. “Chip and Delilah.”

Nick does an exaggerated double take, looking at me and then them and then back at me. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Seriously? Tripp and his best friend Chip? What is it with these people?”

“Tripp, because he’s Reginald Duchenne the third. And Chip because—”

“Oh, I get it. Chip off the old block. Presumably he’s someone the second.”

I clear my throat again, choking back laughter. “Actually the fourth.”

Nick is just shaking his head. “Wow, it’s like the douche canoe in the douche bag.”

“Or those chipmunks from Disney.”

Laughing, Nick brushes another kiss on my temple.

I ignore the heat that spirals through me at his action.

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