Hot SEAL, Best Man (SEALs in Paradise)

by Parker Kincade

  Evan stared down at his hands. He’d shared what had been his belief on marriage for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know why he felt the way he did, or why now he didn’t seem so sure. He glanced up and found Presley frowning.

  “I’m sorry,” he began, but for what? Being honest?

  She shook her head. “No, don’t be sorry. I’ve never thought about it like that before. You have a point.”

  “I do?” Most women thought he was full of shit.

  “You do, but I’d also like to point out that not all marriages end in infidelity. Or end at all.”

  He nodded slowly. He’d give her that. Hell, his own parents were still together and, to his knowledge, had been faithful to each other.

  She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “If you were in love with a woman—deep, can’t-live-without, proud-to-call-her-yours love—you wouldn’t want to profess your feelings to the world?”

  Evan leaned over, traced a fingertip along her forehead, and followed her hairline until he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’d do that every fucking day. She’d have my ring on her finger, my scent on her skin, and me by her side. What more does the world need to know?”

  Presley’s chest shuddered as if she’d lost a breath. A flush eased up her neck. “Fair enough,” she whispered.

  God, he could love her. Maybe he already did. Maybe he’d never stopped.

  He stared into her eyes, and warmth flowed through his veins like he’d been drinking top shelf bourbon instead of draft beer. She’d brought sunshine and forgiveness into his life. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so light.

  “Can I get you another beer?” a waitress asked, destroying the moment like a bull in a china shop.

  He and Presley both jumped like teenagers getting caught making out on her parent’s couch.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced at Presley’s wine glass. “And another wine for the lady, please.”

  The waitress left. Evan knew their debate over the importance of weddings was over when Presley picked up her pen and scanned the page in front of her.

  “I think we’ve covered most of the bases. Next week will be crazy since I’ll be preparing all the floral arrangements. Do you think it’ll be okay for me to start decorating the barn a few days in advance?”

  The wedding was a week from Saturday. He did a quick calculation in his head, taking into account his work schedule and that of the help he’d recruited. “How about if we have the barn ready with the chairs set by next Wednesday…? Will that give you enough time to do what you need to do?”

  She nodded, consulting her list again. “John has the champagne and beer already, so that leaves…the music.”

  “I think I can scrape up a CD player somewhere.” Presley slapped at his hand. He took the opportunity to link their fingers together.

  “Chloe had a quartet set to play, but they can’t accommodate the new date. I have an idea…” Presley’s voice drifted off, as if hesitant to share what was on her mind.

  “Let’s hear it.” He flicked her a glance as he raised his mug to his mouth.

  “A friend of mine told me about a new trio that plays at a blues club. I called and talked to one of the guys. He said they’d be willing to arrange their schedule on short notice, but I haven’t heard them play. Since we don’t have much time, I thought…”

  Evan swallowed his beer with a grin. “Are you asking me out on a date, Miss Masters?”

  Her cheeks pinked up that way that made him crazy.

  “I’d rather not go alone.”

  He brought their linked hands to his mouth, and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d love to go. Do you have a night in mind?” He needed to make sure he didn’t have to be on base.

  “Thursday? It’s the night my…”

  “Your?” Evan prompted when she went silent.

  She blew out a breath. “It’s the night my ex doesn’t work. He’s one of the bartenders there. We were in relationship until recently, so I’d rather not run into him, if at all possible.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  Evan let go of her hand and put some space between them. He should’ve expected she would have an ex out there—hell, he was technically her ex—but the news still sat like a lead balloon in his gut. “How recently?” Jesus. Was he her rebound?

  “Until the night before I met you and John at the coffeeshop.”

  Evan let that information sink in. “How long were you together?”

  “Close to five months.”

  Evan studied her, wishing he could get inside that head of hers. He wanted to know what kind of man she’d chosen and why the hell that guy would let Presley go without a fight. Or maybe the fuckwit hadn’t wanted to fight.

  “Who ended it?” He hoped to hell it was Presley.

  “He did.”

  Fuck. For the first time, Evan hated the color that rose in her cheeks. Anger on her behalf was swift to hit his chest and spread into his limbs. He knew it was irrational. If the guy hadn’t dumped her, touching Presley wouldn’t be an option. And God, he loved to touch her. He loved holding her hand, kissing her delectable lips, and sinking his fingers into her tight, wet pussy. On the flip side, Evan also had the urge to hit something on her behalf. Her ex’s face would work.

  Evan sighed and gave up trying to make sense of the emotions churning through him where Presley was concerned. He was all over the fucking place. “Do you love him?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “We never said the words, but I thought I did.”

  “You thought?” Evan scrubbed a hand over his mouth and down his chin. The same fucking hand he’d shoved down her panties that morning.

  Her head snapped up. “I was wrong,” she said with the same spark of attitude she’d thrown at him at the coffeeshop that day.

  “You sure about that?”

  Hurt flitted across her face, and he hated himself for putting it there. “I would never have let you touch me otherwise. Not my style.” She stared directly into his eyes. “I won’t apologize for having a life before you came back into it, Evan. I won’t expect you too, either. I’m sure there are plenty of women running around San Diego that have seen your bedroom.” She visibly cringed as she said the words.

  “Fuck. Presley.” He was behaving like a jealous boyfriend. He obviously had the jealous thing down, but he wasn’t her boyfriend. Not yet. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right. Although not about the plenty of women in my bedroom,” he was quick to add. “I’ve never brought a woman to my place, but I haven’t lived like a monk, either.” He groaned. Nothing even close to monk-like. “Can we just agree to never talk about past lovers?”

  Presley offered her hand. Evan accepted with a firm, bordering-on-professional grip.

  “Deal.” She gave his hand a dramatic, hearty shake.

  11

  “I don’t like it.”

  Presley turned from side-to-side, checking the dress from all angles, trying to figure out what Em didn’t like about the dress she’d bought a couple of days ago.

  The dress was classic black with a lace scalloped V-neckline that was more sexy than slutty. The sleeves were short, also lace, and the bodice hugged her middle like a dream. The skirt flared out and hit her just above the knees. But her favorite thing about the dress was the tiny green flowers embroidered into the skirt that matched her eyes.

  The dress was delicate, feminine, and totally appropriate for her date with Evan tonight. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Presley spun in a circle to see how the skirt would move if she and Evan danced. She hoped they would. Dancing was one of the things she hadn’t gotten to do with him when they were younger.

  Em flopped back on Presley’s bed. “Nothing. That’s why I don’t like it. It’s perfect. Evan Lancaster doesn’t deserve perfect. I can’t believe you’re going out with him. Has the past taught you nothing? Do you not feel the nostalgia in the air? You getting dressed to the nines, waiting for Evan to pick you up?�
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  Presley could argue that it wasn’t a date, that they were only going out to hear a potential blues trio for John and Chloe’s wedding, but she didn’t want to lie to her sister. If things continued to progress with Evan, Emilia would have to change her attitude toward him.

  Presley dropped her hands onto her hips and regarded her sister. “You need to let that go, Em.”

  “Have you?”

  The question surprised her. Recently, she hadn’t given it much thought. The time she’d spent with Evan over the last couple of weeks had been wonderful.

  He could’ve left her to do all the work. Hell, she’d given him an out. Instead of taking it, he’d been an active participant in helping to get things done for John and Chloe. He’d shown up when he said he would. He’d gotten things done when he said he would.

  She’d have my ring on her finger, my scent on her skin, and me by her side.

  God help her, Presley replayed those words in her head more times than she cared to admit. Most of the time, late at night while she was in bed.

  Evan had grown up, just as she had. Presley felt a lot of things when she was with him, but she could honestly say hurt from the past wasn’t one of them.

  “Yes. I have let go of the past,” she said firmly, not giving Em any reason to question her conviction. “And so should you. Evan and I aren’t the same people we were back then, except that there’s still something between us. The same chemistry that got us together as kids, only way more R rated. In that regard, I guess you could say there’s one thing that’s nostalgic about tonight—my plan to sleep with Evan when it’s over.” She’d shaved her legs and everything.

  “Presley!”

  Presley fake giggled and covered her mouth. “I know. Scandalous, right?” She rolled her eyes and went to her jewelry box. She added earrings and a dainty gold watch that had once belonged to her mother and called it good just as the doorbell rang.

  Evan’s eyelids rounded when she opened the door. “Wow.” He stepped inside, took her hand, and spun her under his arm. His low whistle made her skin tingle. “That’s some dress, sunshine. You look gorgeous.”

  A burst of pleasure flared in her chest at getting the reaction she’d secretly hoped for. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Goosebumps erupted over her entire body as his breath tickled her skin. He smelled heavenly. Fresh and crisp, like soap mixed with cedar and cinnamon. She drew in a breath wanting to fill her lungs with him. Evan pulled back, one side of his mouth curling into a slow, knowing smirk.

  Oh, this man was dangerous. And sexy in his black slacks, silvery-gray button-up shirt, and black suit jacket.

  “Thank you.” She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his strong arms, pretending to brush away invisible lint when, really, she just wanted an excuse to touch him. “You look great, too.”

  When she got to his wrists Evan turned his hands palm-up, so she kept going. She trailed her fingertips across the warm, calloused skin of his palms. As she got to his fingers, Evan curled them around her hands.

  Behind them, her sister cleared her throat. “Looks like you two might need a chaperone.”

  Evan huffed a laugh. “Hello, Emilia.”

  “Hello, beefcake.”

  “Em!” Presley laughed and shook her head. She glanced at Evan, hoping he didn’t take offense to her sister’s lack of filter, but he looked more amused than angry.

  “I’m glad you’re here, actually.” Evan reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a miniature globe. “I found this in a box of stuff at my place. You still collect these things, sprite?”

  Evan tossed it to Emilia. Presley’s heart melted when Em gasped, held up the tiny earth keychain, and inspected it through shining eyes. Em had been collecting keychains since she was a little girl. Presley had no clue what the fascination was, but Em had hundreds of them, in all shapes and sizes.

  Em gave him a teary-eyed smile. “You remembered.” And just like that, he was forgiven. “You hurt my sister again, I’ll cut you.” Sort of.

  Evan snapped his heels together and gave an impressive salute, one worthy of a military general. “Understood, ma’am.”

  Presley grabbed the edge of his jacket and tugged him toward the door. “Let’s go before she changes her mind. Lock up when you leave, ’kay, Em?”

  When they got to Evan’s truck, Presley put her hand on his arm. “That was a really sweet thing for you to do.”

  He pressed his lips against her forehead. “It seemed logical to try to make peace, since I’m hoping you’ll decide to keep me around a while.”

  “I get to decide? Don’t you get a say?”

  “Oh, I get a say, sweetheart.” He shrugged. “But my mind’s already made up.”

  His mind’s already made up.

  Evan didn’t say much on the drive to Southside Blues Club, seemingly in his head as much as she was in hers.

  He wanted her to keep him around? What did that mean?

  Presley wanted Evan in her life; of that, she was certain. But things were moving so fast. She was already in over her head, and she didn’t want to make a mistake this time. She wasn’t sure she could handle losing him a second time.

  Between Evan’s revelation and the trepidation of walking into Brad’s workplace, Presley’s nerves were strung tight by the time they reached Southside. Contrary to the name, Southside Blues Club wasn’t so much a club as it was a hole-in-the-wall known for its nostalgic drinks and live music. The dance floor was small, the lighting subdued, more intimate than the pulsing, flashing, headache-causing lights of a nightclub. The two-seater booths and small tables invited people to sit close, share a drink, and listen to the sultry tunes of the South.

  Presley loved Southside. From the intimate setting to the drinks from a different era. She got a kick out of pretending she was in an old-fashioned speakeasy when she ordered a Gin Rickey or a Sidecar.

  As they approached hand-in-hand, the bouncer at the door greeted her, glancing somewhat curiously at Evan. “Presley. Good to see you, girl. Who you got here?”

  “Hiya, Bubs.” She gave the burly man a hug then stepped back and handed him her purse. “This is Evan.”

  He looked up from inspecting the contents of her bag and said, “Name’s Bubba.” He handed Presley her purse and extended his hand.

  Evan shook it with a jut of his chin. “Good to meet you, Bubba.”

  “Yeah. You, too.” Bubba eyed Evan up and down as if he posed some kind of threat. “Gotta pat you down, bro.”

  “Knock yourself out.” Evan extended his arms like he’d been frisked a hundred times before.

  Once Evan was cleared, Bubba waved them inside. “Enjoy the music. Got a new trio playing. They’re real good.”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  Evan wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and tugged her close to his side. He dropped a kiss on top of her head. “That’s not the only reason we’re here, sunshine.”

  The bouncer’s gaze narrowed as he looked back and forth between the two of them. He tsked through his teeth with something resembling disgust. “You’re wasting your time, little lady. Brad ain’t even here.”

  “What was that?” Evan took a step toward Bubba, and the big man widened his stance.

  Oh, God. OhGodOhGodOhGod. She hadn’t even realized…

  “Forget it, Evan. Just…come on.” Presley tugged Evan into the bar before he could say anything else. She stormed toward an empty booth close to the stage, dragging him behind her. Being a weeknight, the bar wasn’t crowded. Just a few couples here and there, along with a few workday happy hour hangers-on sitting at the bar.

  “Whoa. Hey. What the hell, Presley?”

  She tossed her purse onto the booth’s curved bench seat and spun on him. “What were you thinking, telling him the music isn’t the only reason we’re here?”

  Evan crossed his arms over his chest, making the fabric of his jacket scream against the pressure of his biceps. She tried not to notice.
“I was thinking we’re on a date. The wedding might be the reason we’re in this particular establishment, but I don’t give two fucks about the music, Presley. Wedding shit aside, I’m here because I want to spend time with you. I thought you wanted to spend time with me, too. What am I missing?”

  Everyone was sure to know by now that Brad had broken up with her, and by showing up with Evan, it looked like she was trying to make Brad jealous.

  She’d gotten lucky that the fairly new trio hadn’t been upgraded to playing the weekends yet, but she’d still made a mistake coming here. She should’ve rolled the dice and hired the trio without hearing them play.

  Damn it. No. John and Chloe deserved better from her.

  Evan deserved better from her, too. She felt sick that Brad might think she would lower herself to such tactics to gain his attention, but it was too late now. Let Brad think what he would. She didn’t want Brad back, but—fast or not—she did want the man who was glowering at her right now.

  “I’m keeping you,” she blurted. “You said your mind was made up. Well, so is mine.” A sudden, almost hysterical laugh bubbled out of her throat. “It’s too fast. Way too fast. It’s crazy and impulsive, and I don’t even know what all else. I don’t even know what this means for us as and, you know, us, but I want in. I want you.”

  Evan looked shell-shocked by her rambling speech. She couldn’t blame him. The ground didn’t feel all that steady under her feet either.

  Evan regrouped first. He tugged her against him and kissed her, hard and fast, before resting his forehead against hers.

  “Right now, us means I’m going to buy you a few drinks and do my best to keep my hands off you while we listen to some music and enjoy being together. Later, when I get you home, I’ll show you what us means when I nestle my mouth between your gorgeous thighs and stay there half the night.”

  Presley’s face burned. She’d given her share of blowjobs, but…“I’ve never had a guy—”

  Evan pressed a finger against her lips, cutting her off with a curse. “Don’t. Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to drag you out of here, right now. For the love of Christ, Presley. What kind of men have you been with?” His expression darkened. “Rhetorical. Don’t answer that.”