Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Bang for the Buck (Kindle Worlds Novella) (SWAK Series Book 1)

by Margaret Madigan

  “Thank you, Caroline,” she said. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble. You go on back to your party. Your guests will be looking for you. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  Caroline patted Melinda’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming. I’ll see you at work on Monday.” She turned to Buck. “Make sure she gets home safely.”

  “I will, Caroline. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Caroline smiled, and her cheeks turned a pretty pink. “You’re quite welcome. SEALs are a family. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

  Buck gave her a solemn nod before she turned and left, leaving Melinda alone with him.

  Mindy struck Buck as fragile wrapped around a stubborn core. He didn’t get a frail vibe from her, in fact, she seemed smart and spunky, despite the fainting.

  “Let me know when you’re ready, and we can head out,” he said.

  Mindy’s lips thinned to a frustrated line and Buck had to stifle a grin. She didn’t like being at the mercy of others.

  Her friend, the cute little punk-rock girl, had come and gone, leaving Mindy in his hands. There’d been some subtext in the interaction between them, something about him, but he couldn’t read the details of it. He assumed it had to do with Mindy and men, which shouldn’t concern him any because although her long, wavy, dark hair, her bare, natural face, and her slender, strong body sparked his interest way more than it should, he didn’t do ‘interested’ in anything other than the most superficial way. When he needed companionship, he found it, but he steered clear of anything that wasn’t short term and shallow.

  But his curiosity about Mindy went beyond only physical. She intrigued him. Her skittishness reminded him of horses back home. The guys on his team joked about him leaving the farm because he had no skill with horses, but the truth was, he’d actually been good with them. It was people he didn’t do so well with. Except for a very few, he kept them at arm’s length. Made life easier.

  “We can go now,” Mindy said.

  She scooted to the edge of the bed and stood with no wobble, shooting him a look that said, ‘See? Not a weakling.’

  “Okay, let’s go,” he said.

  She gulped the last of the water as Buck rounded the bed to meet her. He rested his palm at the spot on her lower back where it just started to curve into her ass. Her slender waist, and slim build spoke to something in him that wanted to take care of her. He spent the bulk of his time among large, strong, sturdy men. Hell, he was one. So she seemed small and delicate by comparison, and in need of protecting.

  He hadn’t experienced that instinct toward a woman for years. The last time had been when his mom got sick. A fat lot of good protective instinct had done him then.

  When he touched Mindy, she froze for a moment, then leaned back into his hand a bit, surprising him. He’d touched her mostly to indulge himself in the pleasure of it, and to see what she’d do. He liked that she responded how she did, while at the same time he kicked himself for even doing it. Why torture either of them? He should just be a gentleman and take the lady home.

  In the kitchen they ran into Caroline and Wolf, busy preparing burger patties and other meat for the grill.

  “Taking her home?” Wolf asked.

  “I am,” Buck said. He offered Wolf his hand. “Thanks for inviting me. I had a good time.”

  “Glad to have you. You’re welcome any time.” Wolf accepted his handshake.

  “If you’re ever on the East Coast, look me up.”

  “Will do. And thanks for taking care of Melinda.”

  Mindy’s muscles tensed under his fingers, but before she could take offense he applied enough pressure to move her toward the door.

  “My pleasure,” Buck said.

  Outside, he guided her down the steps from the porch. In the driveway, she said, “I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  “Of course not.”

  He’d parked his rental car—some nondescript sedan that he’d never normally drive—in the street. He missed his old Ford truck.

  “Don’t patronize me,” she said, a hard edge to her voice.

  He unlocked the passenger door and held it open. Angry energy radiated from her. He hadn’t done anything to earn it, but he suspected it wasn’t about him so much as the situation. “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Because you see me as a weak girl. A victim.”

  He quirked a brow at her, challenging her. “You know me well enough to make that kind of assessment?”

  Her expression fell into an irritated scowl, but her only response was an ambiguous grunt as she folded herself into the front seat of the car. He smiled as he closed the door. He’d been right about her. The first impression of her being fragile hid a backbone.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. “Where to?”

  She gave him an address and he programmed it into the GPS. He pulled away from the curb and they drove in silence for a while, the ocean laid out to the horizon on one side, and San Diego Bay on the other.

  “Sorry,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “I get defensive.”

  “No problem. But you don’t have any reason to.”

  “I get anxious in social situations, but that’s not who I am. Passing out doesn’t help, though. It’s mortifying.”

  “It’s no big deal. Everyone has issues.”

  She shot him a skeptical side eye. “Really? What are your issues?”

  He grinned. “I’m not going to spill all my secrets five minutes after we’ve met. You’re going to have to work harder than that.”

  Since he’d never really shared anything other than the most basic information about himself with anyone he’d dated, she’d have to work pretty damn hard to get him talking.

  “Oh, really? You’re assuming I’m interested in putting in the effort,” she said.

  He glanced over at her, surveying her from head to toe and back. Her sea-foam-green eyes shone with humor, and her skin glowed with a warm natural tan. The seat belt nestled between her perky little breasts, and her slender arms showed more muscle definition than he’d expect from most women. Her knit skirt hugged her hips and thighs, defining her curves and more musculature. Curiosity burned in his brain.

  “You are,” he said, turning his attention back to the road.

  “So, you’re saying cockiness is an issue for you.”

  He laughed out loud, eliciting from her the first real smile he’d seen yet. It lit up her face with delight, sparking a corresponding enthusiasm from his cock. She was damn gorgeous.

  She might not be the kind of woman he usually chose for sex, and he could be skating on thin ice given how she aroused his interest, but she aroused a lot more than that and he wasn’t ready to walk away from her. Whether or not they ever had sex didn’t matter. He wanted to spend more time with her.

  “Maybe,” he said. “But cockiness is required in my job.”

  “You’re a SEAL, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He caught her disapproval over his use of ‘ma’am’ in his peripheral vision, but she let it slide. Good thing. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop saying ma’am. His parents had taught him and his sisters what they called proper manners, and figuratively beat them home.

  “Well, thank you for bringing me home. I appreciate it.”

  “I take care of people. It’s literally what I do.”

  “Like I said. You don’t have to take care of me. I can do that for myself.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “This is why social anxiety is a pain in the ass. Everyone sees you as feeble and sickly. Which I’m not. My IQ is higher than most people, I’m strong, opinionated, clever, and creative.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  “Ugh.”

  “What?”

  “I feel naked.”

  He glanced over at her, wondering what she looked like naked. “Excuse me?”

  “Exposed. Seriously. Tell me somet
hing embarrassing about yourself that’ll make me feel less like a wimp. What are your issues, really?”

  As tempted as he was by her artfully appealing awkwardness, he said, “Nothing a little time on a shrink’s couch, or a lifetime in the Navy, won’t make up for.”

  He followed up with the tried and true grin that always bent people to his will. The effect on Mindy was crossed arms and an arched brow.

  “Fine. We can do small talk, if that’s the best you can manage. Hmmm,” she tapped a finger on her chin as if trying hard to come up with a topic of conversation. “So…you’re stationed here?” she asked.

  “No. I’m stationed in Virginia. I’m here for special training.”

  “In?”

  “Secret military stuff with explosives. What about you? What do you do?”

  “I’m a pharmaceutical chemist. I do drug research.”

  “What kind of drugs?”

  “Secret stuff I can’t talk about.”

  He chuckled. She was fun. “Secret drugs? Sounds ominous.”

  She waved away his concern, but not before he caught a look in her eyes he couldn’t define, like she agreed with him. “My area of specialty is nootropics—cognitive enhancers. All research is under company patent,” she said. “If I talk about anything, I could get in trouble.”

  Which, to him, meant she probably worked on top-secret stuff. If she was working on the next aspirin, why not just say so? Now he imagined her as the science-nerd of the superhero group. The one who scienced the shit out of the situation and saved everyone’s asses.

  “So when your friend called you Nerd, she knew what she was talking about.”

  “She thinks she’s funny, but she’s a toxicologist, so she’s as much a nerd as I am.”

  They passed several tall, sleek condo buildings and, following the GPS directions, he turned down a street across from them.

  “Smart women are sexy,” he said, making another turn.

  “Contrary to everything our culture wants us to believe,” she said. He heard the humor in her voice, but there was an edge to it, too.

  “You shouldn’t accept everything you read.”

  The GPS informed him his destination was a hundred feet ahead on the right at the same time Mindy said, “It’s right here. The yellow one.”

  He pulled to the curb behind a white Jeep Cherokee and in front of a tiny yellow house. It was so small that if it hadn’t been yellow, he would have missed it completely, sandwiched as it was between two bigger houses.

  “Oh, good. Jayla brought Sheila back.”

  “Sheila?”

  “My car.”

  “You named your car?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Her sparkly eyes and cheeky smile told him she knew the answer, but she’d give him a hard time anyway. He liked that she didn’t take herself too seriously.

  Noticing the house, he said, “You live in that little box?” With a flat roof, it literally looked like a yellow box with a little front porch, a door, and two windows. Like the kind of playhouses kids made out of cardboard.

  Her proud smile endeared her to him even more. “Why would I need any more space? Besides, it’s roomier than you think.” She paused a moment, her gaze meeting his, doing the same brazen appraisal that he’d done of her. She’d clearly recovered from her anxiety if the coyness in her eyes was any indication. It certainly heated his blood. “You want to come inside and see?” she asked.

  “Sure.” He’d be crazy not to. He may not be in California for long, but why not enjoy it while he could? If she was willing to consider no-strings-attached sex, he was game for that. Besides, Mindy was easy to be around. He didn’t feel like he had to watch what he said, or manufacture small talk, or cater his behavior to hers. There was no artifice about her like he often found with other women, and he liked that.

  Bottom line—he wasn’t ready to say goodbye, yet, so he welcomed the excuse to prolong their time together.

  They both climbed out of the car, and she led the way to the front door. The place was tiny. He swore if he stretched his arms out to his sides, the house wouldn’t be much wider than his wingspan.

  She unlocked the door and walked inside. “Come on in.”

  The inside wasn’t what he expected. Clean and uncluttered, the hardwood floors, cool, pale lavender walls with white trim, and open floor plan made it seem far bigger than it was.

  “This is nice,” he said.

  “Thanks. It’s all the space I need. Mr. Wiggles!” An orange tabby appeared around the half-wall of the dining area, meowing in a way that both welcomed her home and scolded her for being gone. She picked him up and nuzzled his fur with her nose, kissing the top of his head.

  “This is Mr. Wiggles,” she said, bringing the cat over for Buck’s inspection. He’d known plenty of cats in his lifetime on the horse ranch, most of them barn cats.

  “So I heard. Hello cat,” he said, fluffing the fur between his ears. The cat was already purring, but he closed his eyes and increased the volume.

  “He likes you,” Mindy said. “He doesn’t usually like strangers.”

  “I have a way with animals. They all seem to like me.”

  “Animal whisperer?”

  Buck shrugged. “Kinda.”

  Wiggles pushed off Mindy’s chest and hopped to the floor, his tail in the air, and sauntered back to whatever warm spot he’d been before they entered the house.

  “Such a fickle boy,” Mindy said, turning and crossing the living room, but Buck had forgotten all about the cat. All he saw was Mindy’s slim shoulders, strong back, and pretty round bottom swaying back and forth in her knit skirt as she walked. “You want a drink?” she asked over her shoulder.

  ***

  Melinda glanced back at Buck after asking if he wanted a drink, only to find the wide-eyed look she recognized when she stood in front of the donut case at the bakery, ogling all the plump, sugary temptation behind the glass. Except, he was ogling her.

  She bit her lip, and ogled back. He wore jeans just tight enough to outline the muscles of his thighs and clearly define his inflating manhood. She welcomed the answering clench of her core—partly because it had been a while since she’d even been on a date, much less had sex; but also because it was a huge turn-on to see the evidence of his attraction to her. His blue t-shirt clung to his chest and abs, and stretched over his tanned biceps. He sported maybe a day of scruff on a square jaw, and her fingers itched to feel the soft bristliness of his short hair.

  She didn’t generally do one-and-done sex. That she even considered it now shocked her. But part of her needed to prove her vitality after the earlier deficiency. Another primal part of her found him deliciously irresistible. It was as if he was the long lost key to a lock inside her she didn’t even know existed.

  Whatever it was, he made her blood bubble with desire.

  “Huh?” he said.

  “Drink?”

  “Oh, yeah. You got any beer?”

  “I do. Kitchen’s in here. Follow me.”

  She added a bit more swing to her hips as she walked, and in a shameless move that seemed stupid and obvious, when she opened the fridge she bent at the waist, putting her ass up in the air for his attention. Not so subtle, but when she stood and turned to offer him a bottle, she nearly bumped into him, he stood so close. Apparently he’d read her signals loud and clear.

  “Here you go,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  He said the word in a deep, intimate voice, still standing inside her personal space. His energy buzzed with anticipation—like the electricity in the air right before a lightning strike. Yet, on the outside his casual smile and laconic posture screamed confidence. He twisted the cap off the bottle and tipped it up, taking several long swallows. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down under the scruff of his facial hair, his neck stretched upward and vulnerable. She had the urge to lick the length of the artery throbbing up the side of his neck.

  She twisted
the cap off her bottle and took a good, long draw, too. Damn it had got hot fast.

  After he placed his bottle on the nearby counter, he stepped closer, boxing her in between the fridge and his chest. Only inches separated them. She had to look up to see him, but the sheer force of his presence made him seem taller.

  He leaned an arm over her head, resting it against the side of the fridge. When he didn’t say anything—just let the moment build and spiral around them, the knowledge of what they wanted from each other hanging like a fat raindrop about to fall—she couldn’t stand it and finally said, “Sooooo…are you hungry?”

  His lips turned up in a devilish grin, and his eyes sparkled with the same kind of lust that swirled in her belly.

  “Starving.”

  His free hand came up and lifted her chin as he leaned down to press his lips to hers. That first thrilling shock of intimacy sent a shiver shimmying down her spine. When she opened her mouth and his tongue swept in, a satisfied little groan escaped her throat. The rich, earthy taste of hops mingled with his sweet breath and left her woozy for more. She reached up to wrap her fists in his t-shirt and pull him closer. His arms went around her—one to the small of her back, pressing her against the hardness of his erection, the other to grip the back of her neck and guide her so their mouths fit together better.

  She stood on her tiptoes, dying to get as close as she could, scrambling to taste more of him. She pulled at his shirt, sliding her hands up underneath and letting loose a longer, needy, appreciative groan when her fingers met the smooth, hot planes of his torso.

  She wrestled with his shirt while they kissed and her brain fogged with lust, but she couldn’t get it off him. He finally chuckled, reached over his head to grab the back of the t-shirt, and hauled it over his head. For some reason, she found that method of t-shirt removal so much more sexy and masculine than taking hold of it at the hem and pulling it over the head. There was no rational explanation for why, but it added an extra burst of heat to her already blazing core, especially when she got a good look at what he’d had hidden under the t-shirt.