SEAL'd Perfection The Complete Collection: A Navy SEAL Romance (14 page)

Jace and I both whip around to see the source of the squealing, a tall, skinny girl in a skin tight bandage dress, and a sky high pair of platform heels. “I’m Natalie,” she announces, nearly stumbling into Jace’s arms. “I’m so sorry I’m late, I hope there’s still time for my tattoo. My agent gave me the wrong address…” she breaks off into a giggle like getting lost was the funniest thing that ever happened in her life. “Can I get your autograph, like, as a tattoo?”

I wrinkled my nose at the hot mess to my left.
Is she drunk? High?
I didn’t wait around to find out.

“Goodnight Jace.” I threw as much sass into my voice as possible, before tearing open the car door, getting into the driver’s seat while Jace was distracted, untangling himself. I revved the engine and peeled away before he could say another word.

And I didn’t bother looking back.

“Who is that?” The model asked—her mouth so close to me that I could feel her warm breath on my ear. She was leaning against me as I stared down the dark street at Kat’s taillights as she sped away. When I didn’t answer, the tipsy woman’s hands started a self guided tour of my abs, and I captured her hand in mine before she could take things south of the border. She giggled and looked up at me, her eyes glossy and unfocused.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, keeping a firm grip on her hand, closing her fingers so she couldn’t get any more ideas.

She giggled again. “Do you want me to be?”

I sighed and threw her hand away from me, sending her stumbling in her heels. She regained her balance and shot me a dirty look. “Have you been drinking?” I growled.

She hiked her purse strap up her arm, securing it on her bony looking shoulder. “No!”

I cast a bewildered look in her direction, at her sudden metamorphosis. She was steady on her feet, staring at me like
I
was the one with the problem, and any trace of a giggle had fallen from her smart mouth.

Before I could fire off any further questions to get to the bottom of her odd behavior, the door of the shop flung open wide, and John stepped outside, clipboard in hand and his eyes so dark and narrow he took on a snake-like quality. “Are you Natalie?” He asked, looking the girl up and down before consulting his clipboard, which undoubtedly had a picture from the modeling agency. In another attempt to boost ratings for the second season, John had decided to hire a slew of bikini models to come and get tattoos in various states of undress. Obviously, being a cable show, most of the good stuff would get blurred out, but nudity and sexy girls always ramped things up. It was a smart strategy, and if I was honest, most of the people who ended up featured on the first season of the show were in that category. The people whose lives I’d really felt connected to, who had stories that resonated, ended up on the cutting room floor.

If it was my show, those were the people I’d feature, not these Playboy bunny types.

The girl must have answered yes, because when I checked back in, John was ushering her inside the shop and snapping for me to get back to work on the half-naked woman, Sonya, who I’d left on the table. I took a few steps to the door, but stopped short. “I’m not working on that second one, she’s intoxicated.”

John’s lips pulled into a sneer. “Yes you will, she’s already signed the release forms.”

“John, if she’s intoxicated, that’s a huge liability for my business. All this—” I fumbled for the right word, looking at my shop and knowing what waited for me on the other side of the door. “—shit, is temporary.
My
business goes on once the circus pulls out of town and I will not jeopardize that for you or your creative control over
my
show.”

I didn’t wait for him to argue, and pushed past to go back to work. As soon as I sat down, Sonya, began purring like some possessed cat in heat, writhing and twitching in a provocative way that I’m sure would get most guys rock hard and dribbling, but I was done. “Hold still,” I growled, picking up the gun to complete the simple design on the curve under her breast.

When I was done with the design, I picked up the argument with John again, when he tried to get Natalie—the second model—to strip down for me to work on her skinny little ass cheek. She stood nearby in her tank top, thong panties, and stripper heels, nibbling on her fingernails, waiting for her fate to be decided.

“Fine, you do whatever the fuck you want, John. You want her inked so badly, there’s the tools, be my guest. As for me, I’m going upstairs, and I’m not coming back down those stairs until tomorrow morning.”

John’s face turned red, and I didn’t wait around to endure the shit storm he was about to let loose of on the remaining crew members. I wasn’t his bitch, and he’d pushed me to my limits. I stalked out of the shop, planning to go down and clean my workspace once I knew the coast was clear.

In the silence of my apartment, I warmed up a few slices of leftover pizza and sat down to watch the news, mindlessly shoveling the food in, while my mind wandered back to the encounter with Kat. While there was a part of me holding onto a twinge of guilt, I found myself circling back to the logic that number one, I hadn’t been
doing
anything wrong, and number two, Kat was not my girlfriend or wife or anyone who truly had a right to be jealous over what girls I worked with, looked at, talked to. However, it didn’t matter how I presented it to myself— I couldn’t get the devastated look on her face, out of my mind.

Halfway through my meal, I paused the TV, and set aside my plate so I could fish my cell phone out of my pocket. I scrolled through my contacts and landed on her number, my finger hovering over the call button, while I tried to come up with a good opening line. Maybe she’d had enough time to cool off and would be able to let the whole thing drop, maybe she’d even apologize to me for going off the deep end.

Right, Jace, and maybe she’ll rush over and let you fuck her silly like some fucking romantic comedy…get a grip, asshole.

Nothing else came to mind, so I pocketed the phone, telling myself I’d see her at the diner the next day and by then, it should have all blown over, and went back to my dinner. Minutes later, I was at the sink, scrubbing the cheesy remnants from my plate, when there was a soft knock on the door. My heart jumped into my throat, pounding out an urgent beat. It had to be her. I wiped my hands off on the kitchen towel, and went to the door. I slid it open, and took a repulsed step back, startled to find Sonya and Natalie, both stripped down to their bras and panties. Sonya held up a bottle of Grey Goose and a naughty smile spread over her exotic face. “Wanna party?”

“No,” I answered, my voice flat, my lip curled back. Once upon a time, their approach would have worked like a charm. During the filming of the first season, I’d had more one night stands and hook-ups than most frat members get in four years. It had been a domino effect, I’d already had a cult like following in the tattoo community, and when Hollywood had come for me, things had blown up overnight. Women started recognizing me wherever I went, and were willing to drop their panties if I even flashed a smile in their general direction.

It had been a crazy ride, but one that I had sworn off after my breakdown. Parties and women and drinking and drugs, it had all been a band aid for what was lurking much deeper below the surface, and once that all broke free, the band aid no longer worked.

“Awww, come on,” Natalie purred, taking a step towards me, her hands starting where they left off back when we were standing outside on the sidewalk.

“Sorry ladies,” I said, using the term loosely. “I’m a taken man.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. In my mind, my heart was with the beautiful brunette across the street, regardless of how long I had to wait to get hers in return.

Sonya smiled and took a swig from the bottle, licking the remnants from her lips with a seductive flick of her tongue. “We won’t tell,” she promised, flashing another dark smile.

“Yeah, you’re secrets are safe with us, handsome. Come on, let’s have some fun.” Natalie took another step towards me, trying to cross the threshold.

I slid the door in the track, getting it halfway closed, before Sonya reached out and stopped it with her hand. “What the fuck? Are you Jace Winslow or some kind of pussy ass body double?”

Her harsh words left me reeling for a beat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sonya sighed, as though I was exhausting her—and
not
in the way she wanted. “You’re a legend. You love sex, and lots of it. So what gives? Are we not hot enough to meet your standards?” She fired back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes fixing me with a narrow stare.

Meanwhile, Natalie’s head ping-ponged, looking from one of us to the other, like she couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on.
Seriously, what is she on?

“I’m not that guy anymore, all right?” I said, closing the conversation. I didn’t owe them anything. Sonya flipped me the bird and dragged Natalie away from my doorway.

Well, I guess that’s that…

My reputation hadn’t exactly been a well kept secret, I used to love flaunting how easy it was for me to get any girl to go home with me, it had become a sport or game between me and the crew I’d run with back in Chicago. However, as I turned over the whole scenario in my mind as I tried to fall asleep that night, a chilling question gripped me and wouldn’t let me go…what—if anything—did Kat know about all that? Could my past mistakes be the thing keeping her from starting a future with me?

The two weeks following the confrontation with Jace flew by, and while Jace continued his afternoon visits to the diner, I convinced Patrice to take over for me, and my tone must have left no room for discussion, because she agreed to take over without further questions, which was very un-Patrice like. Jace noticed the switch immediately, and would get up from his table to seek me out, until I finally started hiding in the storage room while he was there. Once I started my disappearing act, he started texting and calling, all of which I ignored.

Hilda was the most devastated by the recent change of events, she’d asked countless questions, and I kept my answers simple and vague, claiming it was the seven year age gap, we wanted different things out of life, which it would never work, we were incompatible on a core level. I got the feeling that she didn’t believe a word of it, but after the first few attempts to get the dirt, she gave up, and we all moved on.

At least, as best as I could.

“Jax, baby, you all packed?” I called down the hall as I shrugged into my own jacket.

Jax came racing into the living room, his back pack on, but left unzipped and the contents spilled out behind him as he ran. Mickey was bouncing around, immediately finding a rubber ball that he decided was his, and as soon as Jax saw him chewing on it, he burst into tears, yelling, “Mine! Mine!”

I sighed and went to work diffusing the situation, and repacking Jax’s assortment of belongings. “Okay buddy, we gotta get going.”

By Friday afternoon, I was more than ready to have a weekend to myself. I hated leaving Jax with Mitch and Hannah, but I found myself looking forward to having a quiet house, and time to catch up on sleep and housework. I knew that what had happened between Jace and I couldn’t be classified as a “break-up” because we’d never actually been together, but the feelings and emotions pouring out of me were identical. We didn’t have a pile of memories to sort through, but the ones we did have, I clung to for dear life, even though I kept telling myself to let them go. I hadn’t been sleeping well, and by the weekend, I was popping vitamin C and using hand sanitizer on every surface of the house.

I was ready to open the front door, when Jax stopped abruptly and looked up at me. He tugged at the edge of my jacket, and said, “Mama?” His eyes went wide, like he was struggling with his next set of words. “Jace is my friend?”

His little question twisted the knife another inch into my heart, and I struggled to fight back the tears that stung my eyes, as I knelt down to be face to face with my sweet little angel. “Yes, sweetie. Jace is your friend. He’s just busy, okay?” I hated myself even more for lying to him, but how else was I supposed to explain it?
I
barely understood what the hell had happened—there was no way my three year old would be able to comprehend.

At my reassurance, Jax smiled again and pet Mickey on the head. “Mickey is my friend.”

I laughed through the tears that blurred my eyes and pressed a kiss to Jax’s head. “Yes, of course. Come on sweetheart, we have to get going, we’re going to be late.”

We drove the half hour out of town to Mitch and Hannah’s and everything was right in the world as I listened to my little boy serenade me from the backseat, singing some song he either heard somewhere, or made up, most of his words were jumbled and I couldn’t decipher most of it, but the sound of his sweet voice and his smile was a wonderful balm to my bruised heart.

When I pulled up the driveway, I noticed that Mitch was standing on the porch, as though he was waiting for our arrival. I glanced at the clock on the dash of the car—we were a few minutes late, but with a three year old that was to be expected…

I parked, making a conscious effort not to look at my ex as I went around to the backseat and got Jax freed from his car seat. He took off running as soon as his feet hit the ground, and I heard Mitch greet him and usher him into the house with Mickey on his heels. However, when I started up the walk to go say goodbye, Mitch crossed his arms and stepped to the center of the porch, blocking my path. “We need to talk,” he announced.

And just like that, my heart dropped out the bottom of my chest and landed in the dark, hollow pit in my stomach. “About?”

“Our custody arrangement.”

I scoffed. “You can’t be serious!”

Mitch’s stern expression assured me that he was. “Hannah’s pregnant.” The way he said it, made it seem like that should explain away his previous statement, but all it did was confuse me further. I rolled my hand, indicating for him to continue, he scoffed and added, “It’s important for both of us that Jax gets as much time as possible with his new little brother or sister, just the weekends isn’t going to be enough.”