Saved by the SEAL (9 page)

Probably
.

But I'm feeling pretty damn stupid, so I send him a return text.

Not only am I in, but I'm in over my head when it comes to Grisham. But I don't care. Because letting go and having fun with him feels good.

Everything about Grisham Abbot feels good.

Later, I'm still smiling about my upcoming date as I head for my car after work. I'm pulling out my key fob to unlock when the keys slip from my fingers and clatter to the ground. Bending down to retrieve them, I continue to my car and open the back door. I set my bag down in the backseat, close the door, and open the front. That's when I realize that I never actually unlocked my car doors.

“That's strange. I always lock my doors.”

Great, now I'm the crazy girl who mumbles to herself in the parking lot.

Shaking my head with a rueful smile, I prepare to sit on my seat when a flash of red catches my eye.

“What the hell?”

It's the rose. The twelfth rose from my bouquet is no longer missing.

It's sitting on the driver's seat of my car.

I
know why I did it. I asked her to dinner because I missed the hell out of her this week. I missed the way her long, raven hair feels when it tickles my skin. I miss the way her full lips poke out in a pout when she doesn't get her way. I miss the strength that emanates from her in waves. I miss her gorgeous face and her soft, feminine curves that
will
fit so perfectly in my hands. I miss her sunshine.

I'm completely fucked.

I'm doing exactly the opposite of what I promised myself I would do. I said I was going to walk away from her, and yet all I keep doing is pulling her closer. It's like I can't help myself. Something about Greta makes me want to stand up and be the kind of man who's put together enough to deserve her. Like I can even stand up and be
her
man if I work for it. All my life I've defined manhood by rank, by physical strength, and by military caliber. I've embodied that in my professional life now as well. And even though I still think those things are important, Greta is giving me a new perspective. Being there for her during this transitional time in her life, teaching her to protect herself, and bringing smiles to her face make me want to beat my fists against my chest, throw her over my shoulder, and shout “Mine!” to the world.

But do I have the guts to actually make her mine? Right now, sitting across the table from her in a classy Mexican restaurant just off the beach, I can't stop thinking about taking her home with me tonight.

About making this thing with her, whatever it is, official.

I've never had a girlfriend. A night with a girl here and there was all I ever needed. Hell, at one point in my life I thought I'd be spending forever with Berkeley, my childhood best friend. So what did I need to date for? I never learned the ropes about how to be a good partner, about how to be the other half of someone else. Maybe with Greta I can learn.

I shake my head to clear it as I watch her order chimichangas. She also orders a bottle of Dos Equis, which makes me smile. After I put in my order of tomatillos and Mexican rice, I turn to her with raised eyebrows.

“You drink Dos Equis?” My awe for her is growing with every new revelation she shows me, and I can't stop it. The raw, primal feelings that are forming for Greta come from somewhere deep down inside me, somewhere I've always kept hidden away. No matter how hard I try. Greta is a woman with a thousand different facets, and I want to uncover every single one of them.

“I always pair Mexican beer with Mexican food.” Her tone is matter-of-fact. “You should have one, too. It's delicious.”

Laughing, I nod. “Sounds good. Order one for me when she comes back, okay?”

“Okay.” She clasps her hands together and leans forward, her gaze locking intently on mine. She doesn't say anything else, though, just looks at me. And I'm in danger of drowning, lost in those eyes of hers.

“So.” I clear my throat. “Tell me about those flowers you received today.”

She shrugs. “Just got a dozen roses. Wait, not a dozen. Eleven.”

A strange look crosses her face and her voice trails away. “What, Greta? What's that look?”

“Well, it's just…something happened after work that kind of creeped me out.”

I straighten in my seat, leaning forward slightly and narrowing my eyes. “What happened?”

She begins fidgeting, toying with her long, slender fingers. “It was the weirdest thing. I thought there were a dozen flowers, and then Berkeley pointed out that there were only eleven. I didn't think anything of it.”

She pauses for a second, and I want to reach across the table, grab her hands in mine, and urge her onward in the story. I need her to finish. But without pushing, I wait patiently for her to go on. Right now, I think she just needs me to listen until she gets it all out.

“I didn't think anything else of it. And then, after work I went to my car. I was so excited to get ready for this date…” She stops suddenly and looks at me with wide, startled eyes. “Shoot. I didn't mean to say the
D
word.”

I stare at her, confusion making me frown. “Why? This isn't a date?”

A huge smile breaks out across her face, and I'm in danger of pumping my fist into the air, knowing I put it there. “Is it?”

Unable to stop myself this time, I reach for her hands and clasp them tightly in my own. “Do you want it to be?”

She nods, her chin dipping low and her eyes meeting mine. “Yes.”

“It's a date,” I declare. “What happened when you got to your car?”

“Well, I wasn't really paying attention because I was thinking about our dinner, and I just opened the door and got right in. Once I thought back, though, I realized that my car door was unlocked. That's strange, because I always lock my car door. It's habit, I hit ‘lock' on the key fob every single time.”

I nod, but my stomach is sinking. I don't like where this story is going. In fact, I fucking hate where it's going. “Was there someone waiting for you in your car, Greta?” My voice is so low it barely registers with me that I asked the question aloud, but she hears me.

Shaking her head quickly, she rushes on. “No, no. Nothing like that. But the twelfth rose was in there.”

“Excuse me?”

“The missing rose, from the dozen? It was in my car. Someone had pulled the petals off and spread them over the driver's seat. The stem was lying right on top of the petals.”

My hands tighten on hers, and I pull them away so I won't hurt her. Someone invaded her space. First, someone sent her flowers. That was one thing, but then thinking about the fact that someone broke into her car and touched her personal property like that…that sets my blood into a rapid boil.

“I guess someone picked the lock. Or something? I don't know. Anyway, it freaked me out. I looked around, and then I tossed the stem and petals on the ground and got the hell out of there.” Her forehead wrinkled in the middle as she frowned.

“Did you tell your dad?”

“No! Are you crazy? He'd flip out. I want to keep working there, Grisham. I've really enjoyed my week. I don't want him to worry and do something drastic, like lock me in the house forever.”

I
want to lock her in the house forever. As long as I'm there with her.

Our server brings out Greta's beer, and I order one as well. When she leaves, I take Greta's hands again. They tremble in mine, and I rub soft circles on her skin with my thumb. Her wide eyes shine with the subtle fear she's probably feeling at having her space invaded that way.

“Do you promise to let me know if anything like this happens again? I'm not comfortable with it, Greta. On the one hand, it could just be someone you know pulling a prank. But on the other hand, it could be something more sinister than that. Just promise you'll tell me if anything else happens that you think is strange or makes you feel creeped out. Anything at all. Okay?”

She nods, one corner of her mouth quirking up in a tiny smile. “Okay.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because you're going all alpha male on me.”

I can't fight the smile that springs onto my face. “Alpha male?”

“Never mind.”

“You didn't promise yet, Grits.”

She nods automatically, pulling one of her hands out of mine to give me a mock salute. “I promise. Sir!”

Laughter rumbles inside of me, bursting out the way water does from a geyser. I can't help it. Greta teasing me for taking myself too seriously is freaking hilarious.

The server brings our food and my beer, and we sit and enjoy a delicious dinner. I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed, unwound. She's light and funny, even though she has tough family issues. Greta's a breath of fresh air in a world where I felt like I couldn't inhale enough oxygen. I watch her as she laughs at something one of the guys on her father's team at the office said today, and just the airy, tinkling sound is enough to pull my manhood to rapt attention. She's sexy as hell in the most unassuming way. A fact that makes her even more alluring.

She's right; the dark, full-bodied Mexican beer pairs perfectly with our food. There's a lot she's right about, I'm starting to notice. Across the table, Greta puts the dark brown bottle to her lips and sips. Her eyes meet mine, and I'm pretty sure it's written all over my face how turned on I am. The bottle pauses just at the entrance to her mouth, her deep, knowing eyes pinning me down.

I swallow, shifting in my seat.

“Greta.”

She lowers the bottle an inch. “Yes?”

“Do you want to come back to my place after dinner?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah, Grisham. I do.”

Oh...shit.
The blood rushes straight to my cock, and I can't think straight anymore. Without breaking eye contact with the sexy seductress in front of me, I raise my hand into the air. Like magic, our server appears.

“
Sí, señor
?”

I'm still caught in Greta's fixed stare. My pulse is pounding each rushed beat like a drum in my ears. “Check, please.”

The server scurries away and makes quick work of our bill. The tension at the table builds to a thunderous level; I can almost feel the thickness of it pulling the air between us tight. As soon as the check arrives, I throw a large bill down on the table, hardly even looking at the amount. My chair scrapes against the floor as I shove it backward and stand, extending my hand to Greta. She jumps up, grabbing on tight.

Without another word, I tow her toward my car.

The cool breeze stirring up the night air does nothing to cool off the heat radiating off me. I stalk toward the Jeep, unable to slow my pace. Checking beside me, I see that Greta's keeping up just fine. I throw open the passenger-side door of the car, pulling Greta toward me at the same time.

Her body collides with mine, and my arms automatically go around her. That soft, supple body shapes to mine instantly, and I can't ignore the sparks setting fire to my blood. Our eyes meet; the second her plump bottom lip is sucked between her teeth I react. Turning her so she's pressed firmly against the side of the car, I brace myself with my arms on either side of her head. She barely has time to grab a breath before my lips are devouring hers.

I kiss her like she's my last breath. I don't bother to take my time to explore her; there will be time for that later. Right now? Right now I just need to taste her.

She opens for me almost immediately, causing a growl of approval to rumble deep inside my chest. She reacts to it beautifully, arching her back and pushing her breasts against me.

God, I want to touch her so bad.

But again…later. I lick and nip at the bottom lip I wanted so badly to taste, then delve deeply inside her hot mouth again. She's greedy, raking her hands up into my hair and tugging me closer.

My phone vibrates and chirps in my pocket, but I'm so into her I barely hear it. She tastes like my own personal version of heaven, and I can't stop kissing her. Finally, she pushes against my chest, but I don't let her go far. Leaning my forehead against hers, I attempt to catch my breath and force my racing pulse to slow.

It doesn't work.

Looking at her swollen lips, her mussed hair, the way her dress strap is hanging off of one shoulder, I just want to pick her up and throw her into the backseat.

“You. Are. So. Damn. Hot.” I punctuate each word with a squeeze of my hands on her ass, and she giggles, letting her warm breath trickle over my face.

“Your phone…it's ringing again. Must be important.”

Groaning, I pull back from her and retrieve my phone from my pocket.

“Better be real fucking important,” I mutter as I check the screen.

My mood sobers and I answer the call immediately. “Mom?”

“Grisham? It's happening again.” Her voice is shaking, a sure sign that she's scared shitless, and my heartbeat slams to life, this time for a completely different reason.

“I'm on my way.”

Greta must hear something in my voice, because she hurries to clamber into the Jeep. I close her door behind her and jog around to the driver's side. Climbing in, I gun the engine before pulling out of the parking spot.

“What's wrong?” asks Greta, her voice full of breathless anxiety.

I don't look at her; my focus is on the road. “I hate to do this, Greta, but I need to bring you with me. I've got a situation I need to handle at my parents'.”

She nods. I can feel the heat of her gaze on me, but I can't focus on her the way I had just seconds ago. All I can see now is the way my mom's face looks when she's scared.

I just need to get there.

The mantra repeats over and over again in my head the entire fifteen-minute drive to my parents' beach house.

Get there.

Get there.

Get there.