Second Chance with Her SEAL

by Gillian Blakely

  She'd know that laugh anywhere.

  “David Lee Jameson!”

  David heard Sabrina's voice over the din of conversation and music. His laughter died at her shocked tone.

  Fifteen years had passed since he'd heard his name on her lips. Back before he'd joined the Navy, before BUD/S, before Vanessa, before Samuel, before he'd become Boomer - the laid back, affable, dependable SEAL.

  Back then he'd been D, Sabrina's best friend, her confidant, the guy who'd secretly been crazy about her and tried his darnedest to make her his without ruining everything.

  Bang up job, there, Jameson. Bang up job.

  What he'd never been able to figure out was how the most magical night of his life had sent her running in the other direction.

  And now, somehow, she'd figured out the man under all the green paint was her long-lost friend. She pressed through the crowd, headed right for him. Those aqua eyes pinned him in place and he couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to.

  Despite years of training, which had helped him conquer fear and move his ass in dangerous situations, knowing that he needed to stay away from this woman, he couldn't do it. He couldn't move and the masochistic part of him needed to know what she was going to say. What would her next words be?

  Didn't matter.

  He'd made his peace a long time ago and moved on.

  Except...

  “Is it really you?” she asked when she'd almost closed the distance between them.

  Aww fuck. Did she have to look so happy? So utterly pleased to find out the guy she'd been ogling was her childhood friend? The same friend she'd gone on one date with and then barely spoken to ever again?

  Forget it, Jameson. Once it's in the past, we move on.

  He took a deep breath, knowing there was no way out of this. “Hello Mouse.”

  She rocked back slightly, and her perfect mouth dropped open, stretching the painted-on whiskers. Her brows lifted, emphasizing those melt-a-man-in-his-tracks eyes.

  Damn, she was too pretty to be real.

  “So, you do recognize me.” The shock on her face turned to inquisitiveness.

  “I'd know your eyes anywhere,” he admitted.

  Behind her, Jill and Tracy disappeared into the crowd.

  Curiosity gnawed at him.

  “I'd know your laugh anywhere.” She paused, and the world seemed to disappear until they were the only beings left. Then she launched herself against him and hugged him tighter than he would have thought possible. “I've missed you.”

  Those three little words came out on a shaky sigh.

  They slayed him.

  Against his better judgement, he hugged her back, hands sliding around her back and pulling her close. Holy hell she felt amazing, toned and yet soft in all the right places. And she smelled like a coconut and vanilla dream.

  Holy hell.

  She pulled back, arms still around his neck and stared up at him as if she couldn't believe her eyes. Chuckling, she hugged him again.

  Damn, if it wasn't the most infectious sound, bringing a resounding rumble from his own chest.

  “It really is you,” she said, her voice full of awe. “Where have you been? Do you know you're the only person in our class not on Facebook? Why does Jill call you Boomer?”

  His lips twitched. She was still something else. And she'd overcome that painful shyness that'd held her back and made her feel removed from everyone.

  How had that happened?

  Dammit, he didn't need to know that.

  “I've wondered that myself,” a voice inserted.

  He glanced to his left and saw Celita staring back with the same curiosity that was mirrored on Sabrina's beautiful face.

  “Oh...ugh...”

  Teo, the saint, saved him. “Boomer, need a refill?”

  Boomer shook his head. “Three's my limit.” Teo knew that.

  “Right. Dylan and I are gonna get some air. Let us know if you need help changing that tire.” The barb was tossed over Teo's shoulder with a teasing smirk.

  “Bite me,” Boomer shot at his friend’s retreating back.

  “Tire?” Sabrina quipped.

  “Celita, meet Sabrina Duncan. Is it still Duncan?” His brows lifted in question and he held his breath as he awaited her answer. God, why did it matter?

  It didn't. She didn't matter.

  She'd made it clear all those years ago and he was happy alone.

  “Still Duncan,” she said with a laugh. “Nice to meet you, Celita.”

  The two women shook hands and Boomer noticed Celita giving Sabrina a thorough once over. The feisty makeup artist seemed as taken with Sabrina as he felt.

  “Celita is the makeup artist responsible for my, ugh, costume,” he said waving inanely at his chest. He glanced down and found the green body paint still in place and he was a little disappointed that Sabrina's bear hug hadn't rubbed it off.

  “Oh—” Sabrina's jaw dropped again and her chin wobbled once before she snapped it shut and pasted on a smile that would have fooled someone who hadn't spent so much time with her. As it was, the grin didn't make her eyes crinkle. “You're very thorough. Was it hard to get him to hold still?”

  The eye crinkle appeared, and she turned her focus to Celita.

  “Yup. You know how SEALs are.”

  “SEALs?” Sabrina's brows met her hairline.

  “Former SEAL,” he murmured. He hated spreading that around. He was damned proud of the work he and his Team had done but he couldn't stand the groupies. Fucking BUD/S bunnies hanging out, hoping to score Uncle Sam's best of the best. “You ready to tackle that tire?” he asked Celita, hoping she'd drop the conversation.

  Unfortunately, she waved him off.

  “He's too modest,” Celita said. “I hear they can sit still on the battlefield for hours at a time and yet you get them in the make-up chair and they’re totally twitchy.”

  “Gimme your keys and I'll go fix it.” At this point, he'd do pretty much anything to get out of the stifling room that smelled like coffee and cheap rubber costumes.

  Celita linked her arm through Sabrina's and whatever she said in that quiet tone made Sabrina laugh.

  Maybe leaving them alone together wasn't a good idea.

  But then again, what the hell did it matter? He'd be done with the job soon and he was never going to see Sabrina again. Right?

  Right.

  Chance meeting. That was all.

  Celita dug into the pocket of her form fitting jeans and then dropped her keyring into his hand. His heart and libido were firmly divided.

  Heart said to keep moving. Women were nothing but trouble. Libido was having none of it. Sabrina'd disappeared from his life, leaving a giant hole, and she'd come back a Phoenix. He wanted to bask in her radiance a while longer. All night long.

  Down boy.

  His brain was on the fence, curious and yet unwilling to rehash the past. He'd learned his lesson, hadn't he?

  Boomer pulled open the door and the bells jingled. Celita, the trouble maker, said a quick “thanks” before she and Sabrina stepped outside in front of him. The two women started off down the sidewalk, still arm and arm. When had they gotten so damned chummy? And why did he feel like his worlds were colliding? Old and new. Temporary and forgotten.

  “Are you coming?” Celita asked over her shoulder when she was a good thirty feet away. His feet felt glued to the concrete.

  What the hell was happening?

  He nodded and forced himself to follow them through the crowd of party goers. Sabrina's laughter bounced off the old brick buildings and they made a right turn down a cross street.

  They stopped half a dozen spaces down in front of Celita's old Pathfinder. Dozens of bumper stickers clung to the paint job, making the vehicle as colorful as its owner’s personality.

  “What was he like as a five-year-old?” Celita was asking.

  Sabrina shot him a mirthful smile and turned back to her new pal.

  “Shorter. A lot less...green.�
�

  The comment sent Celita into a fit of laughter.

  Boomer stared between the two women. One he'd known forever it seemed and yet, he didn't know her at all. And the other, a more recent acquaintance who'd worked her way into his life with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel.

  But Sabrina...when had she lost her shy nature? How was she able to make a friend so easily when as a child he could have counted her friends on one hand and not used a single finger?

  Doesn't matter.

  He used the keys to get the jack out of the SUV and tried to ignore the two women on the sidewalk. Rather, he tried to ignore one of them, but he could see her out of the corner of his eye and damn if he hadn't already committed her curves to memory. Did that turtleneck have to cling in all the right spots?

  So much for staying away from her.

  The sooner he got this tire changed, the sooner he could get out of here and forget all about Sabrina and her mouth-watering ass.

  He doubled his effort to loosen the second nut. Doggone machines, tightening the lug nuts too tight. Didn't anyone hand-torque anymore?

  “Need any help?” Sabrina called.

  The nut gave, and his hand smashed into the asphalt.

  4

  Pain exploded through his knuckles.

  “Shit.”

  “Oh—” Sabrina was next to him in a heartbeat, reaching for his hand.

  David shrugged her off. “I'm okay.”

  God knew he'd suffered worse. He had plenty of old wounds to show for it and those were only the physical injuries that left scars on the outside.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her sit back on her heels.

  Feeling like an ass, he continued his task and made short work of the job. His training allowed him to become laser focused but then again, he'd never had Sabrina Duncan tagging along through Afghanistan. He'd never had her delicious scent teasing him as he tried to defuse a land mine.

  Luckily, he was working with a tire and a handful of lug nuts. A breeze sent a tiny tornado of leaves swirling between them. He let the vehicle down and picked up the jack.

  “Thanks, Boomer. I really appreciate it.” Celita stepped forward as he stood.

  “No problem.” He stowed the gear in the back and shut the tailgate, feeling the women watching him. It wasn't the makeup artist who held his attention though. No. It was the woman who'd stolen his heart and crushed it. “Drive safe.”

  He handed over the keys but Celita turned back to Sabrina.

  Once again, he was awestruck at how outgoing his former best friend was. In fact, if she hadn't confirmed it, he'd have a really hard time believing the vivacious bombshell currently typing her phone number into Celita's phone was the same Sabrina Duncan who used to hang upside down next to him on the monkey bars.

  Back then she'd been so shy, with everyone but him.

  “Let's get together before you head back to Hollywood,” Sabrina said as Celita circled the hood. She waved a few fingers and Boomer stepped onto the sidewalk.

  When the headlights flicked on, he got his first good look at his hand. Yep. He'd given himself a good scrape to the knuckle. Blood had trickled down the side of his palm and dried.

  “I have a first aid kit in my car,” Sabrina said as Celita backed out onto the street.

  “I'll take care of it when I get home.”

  Maybe he was seeing things, but he'd bet money that disappointment flashed across her features. And that made him feel like a jerk.

  “Are you sure? I'm two spaces down. You don't want an infection.”

  No. He didn't. But he really didn't want her hands on him. With her so damn close he could almost feel the heat of her body. He was having a hell of a time reminding himself that he'd vowed to stay away from her.

  He took a deep, steadying breath. “I'm gonna head out. I need a shower.”

  Truth be told, the makeup was getting to him and he hated being sucked down memory lane.

  “Oh.” The single word held mountains of disappointment and made him meet her gaze head on.

  Damn.

  Did she have to look up at him so...bewildered? The faint lines of confusion wrinkling her brow made him feel like an even bigger jerk.

  “But if you've got a wipe or something to clean this—”

  “Sure thing.” As if needing to move or do something with her hands, she started forward, hitting a button on her key fob in the same instant.

  Where the hell had she been hiding those keys in such a skin-tight outfit? Would she let him do a thorough search?

  Knock it off, Jameson.

  She hit a button on the passenger door, popped open the glove compartment and returned with a small container of supplies. The fact that she was so organized shouldn't have been a turn on, but fuck. He was a sucker for a well labeled system.

  Cracking open the lid, she placed everything on the hood of the car. The very red car. He glanced right, then left, taking in the smooth, sleek lines.

  The Sabrina he remembered had been way too shy to drive such a flashy car.

  “Convertible, huh?”

  “Mmm huh.” She held up a little packet like it was the Stanley cup. “I just moved here from California and it's practically a requirement out there to own a convertible.”

  Taking the foil between her teeth, she gave it a hard yank. His gaze zeroed on her lips. Were they as soft as they looked?

  “You lived in California?” He asked, aware of how lame he sounded but he had to do something to distract himself from her mouth.

  She reached for his hand and awareness traveled across his skin like wildfire. Despite her gentle touch, he wanted to snatch his hand back, but he got the impression that he had hurt her feelings earlier, and while he didn't want to rehash the past, hell, he didn't want a future with her either, he didn't want to hurt her. No matter how badly she'd hurt him.

  “Yep. Almost ten years.”

  “No kidding.” Small world.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Wherever work takes—” he hissed as the cleaning pad hit abraded skin. Gritting his teeth, he finished, “me. Right now, I'm here. By December, I should be back in California.”

  Her perfectly plucked brows lifted and cinched together and she glanced up at him briefly before turning her attention back to his wound.

  “You would have made a good nurse,” he murmured as she carefully applied an antibacterial gel. At one point she’d wanted to be a librarian. Then there was the summer she’d talked about becoming a veterinarian.

  “Maybe.”

  A comfortable silence reigned as she fought with a bandage wrapper.

  “Good thing you're not bleeding out,” she murmured. “You'd be dead before I could get this stupid thing on you.”

  His lips twitched. Standing there next to her sporty car, on a warm October night in Georgia, Boomer remembered why they'd been such good friends all those years ago. Shy or not, she'd always had a smile for him and she'd always been able to make him happy. One smile, one laugh, one day at a time she'd been sunshine in an often-dark world.

  “What do you do?” Curiosity got the better of him.

  “I'm a wedding stationer.”

  “Oh-kay.”

  She laughed as she applied the bandage. Somehow the sweet, melodic sound did as much for his mind as the dressing did for his wound. How was it that she could lift his mood in just a few minutes?

  “You sound skeptical.”

  “I just have no idea what a wedding stationer does.”

  “I design invitations, table cards, things like that for brides. Then I print them or have them printed. Then I stuff and address them. Ship them. It's a full-service business.”

  “Hmm...” Sounded expensive. Which explained the car. “People pay for that?”

  “Brides who want custom paper goods pay for that, yes.”

  Sometimes he had a rough time accepting what civilians considered normal. He’d spent so long far removed from society. Most of the guys he
knew, Teo, Dylan and Joe included, found acclimating to the stresses that sent normal folks over the edge difficult.

  Like Toby. Boomer’s supervisor had a flair for the dramatic, not to mention he was unorganized. Try as he might, Boomer just couldn’t get on the same page with the guy. Or respect him, most days.

  “What are you thinking about right this second?” She asked, staring up at him wide eyed and curious as she clutched the first aid kit to her chest.

  Opening up to her was as natural as breathing. He braced a hand against the side of her car as she leaned against the hood.

  “My boss had a flat tire earlier in the week, made a big stink of it. Like it was the worst catastrophe ever. No exaggeration.”

  As if on cue, the phone in his pants pocket vibrated. Boomer would bet a thousand dollars that Toby was texting him about some problem that Boomer had no intention of addressing until next week. He'd more than earned his days off.

  “Okay.” She sounded confused.

  “Sometimes, well, most of the time, I have trouble relating to people. It’s interesting, maybe a little curious, what people consider important or stress over. A flat tire isn't a big deal, really, unless it causes an accident. Or you’re stuck in a fire-fight in the middle of nowhere.”

  “What is a big deal to you?”

  He grunted and stared up at the night sky. Despite the old-fashioned street lights dotting the sidewalks of downtown Roseville, he could make out a few of the brighter stars. “IEDs are a pretty big damn deal. Ambush. Losing friends.”

  Her gasp brought his head down and around. The sweet O of her lips was the ultimate invitation. Did she know how attractive she was? She had to. She obviously worked hard if her perfect manicure, killer figure, and carefully applied makeup were any indication.

  “You're right.” She stared at him for a long moment before dropping her gaze to the pavement and leaning against the hood. “Were you—I mean—how long—”

  She paused and then licked her lips. The quiver in her voice told him so much. His words had affected her, and she wasn't quite sure how to absorb them or react to them.

  “How do you find your clients?” he asked, directing them back to a safer discussion.