The Dream Groom: Texas Titans Romances

by Hart, Taylor

  That was a valid argument, actually. She smiled. “Cloak of darkness, really? Should I put that in my paper?”

  “Hey, I won’t complain if you feel the need to quote me.” His voice had gone husky.

  Intrigued, she pushed aside her laptop and leaned against the back of her bed, thinking how this was getting interesting. “Why can’t you tell me about the scar now?”

  He sighed. “You have no filter, do you, Kansas?”

  The way he said “Kansas” sounded so good. Feeling a bit bad, she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Seriously, another night. Let’s talk about your paper.”

  “Sure.” She went back to the topic, even though she really wanted to know now. “Juliet had pledged her dying love to Romeo. Juliet trusted Romeo.”

  “Still stupid and childish.”

  “Was it? Because by Romeo’s actions we see that Romeo loved and trusted Juliet. He didn’t let it stand. She didn’t die by herself. He died too.”

  He grunted. “So sacrifice for love is always worth it?”

  “Always,” she said softly, feeling more convinced as she said it. “That’s why it was pretty awesome you jumped in to help me even though I don’t deserve it and you didn’t know me.”

  “But I didn’t love you,” Scar pointed out. He said it so bluntly, she was thrown off balance. “I jumped in because I believe in humanity, goodness, honor, and duty.”

  She found herself liking this man. A lot. “Love of country before love of self.”

  “You do what’s right because it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “I had SEAL guys who proved that to me. Over and over.”

  Her respect for him went up a notch. “You’re a SEAL?”

  He cleared his throat. “Was. Got shot. Discharged with honors. I had the option of being regular military but turned it down.”

  “What do you do currently?”

  “Play football for the Texas Titans.”

  This was unreal. She wasn’t really into football, but Jason had loved the Titans. “You play professional football?”

  He scoffed. “I pretty much just get throttled most of the time. I’m on the practice team.”

  She considered what SEALs did, then imagined what it was like on the practice team. “So you’re obviously masochistic.”

  He laughed.

  “What are you doing in San Diego?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m actually in San Diego for three to four weeks working on a project to design a facility for military vets. It’s a program that focuses on helping vets through sparring. There will also be counselors to help them and a coffee shop where they can hang out. No one would show up just to be psychoanalyzed, but if we can get them in for sparring and socializing, we can really help the ones who need it.”

  “Wow. I’m a bit intimidated by you.”

  “No,” he said, sounding shocked. “Don’t be.”

  “How old are you?” she blurted, regretting the words as soon as they tumbled out. “Sorry, the no filter thing.” She cringed, knowing she sounded like an idiot and was grateful for the distance of the telephone while talking to him.

  “Ah, you’re breaking my heart already, Shayla.”

  Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Was he going to answer the question?

  “I’m twenty-eight,” he said. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  He sighed. “Is that okay with you?”

  Feeling uncertain, she said, “Yeah, that’s fine. I mean, whatever. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  He chuckled, a wonderful sound. “That dispels any intentions I had.”

  Butterflies rushed through her and she knew she’d be blushing. Checking the time, she saw it was almost eleven-thirty. “I gotta go. Paper is due by midnight, and I still have to finish it.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

  Happiness surged through her. She pushed it away, not wanting to think it meant anything. He was way too old for her. “Sure.”

  “Well, then, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 7

  It’d been a rough day. Scar had gone from meeting to meeting, barely taking a lunch. Unfortunately, it hadn’t included the diner that morning. Maybe that’s why it’d been bad—he hadn’t gotten to see Kansas.

  When Scar finally staggered into his room at the Hotel del Coronado, all he wanted to do was go for another run, get some food, fall on his bed, and find something on TV to fall asleep to. He had just collapsed onto his bed when his phone rang.

  It was her number. His spirits lifted as he answered. “Couldn’t stand to not hear my voice?”

  “Sorry, I need your help.”

  His head shot up from the bed, and he was on his feet in three seconds flat. “What?”

  She sighed. “Never mind. This was a bad idea. I just thought because I live down from your hotel you might be able to help me.”

  Taking action, he scooped his wallet off the couch and had his running shoes on in no time. “Where are you? I can get to anything on this whole island in roughly twenty minutes running. I might even be able to wrangle a bike and be there faster or grab my jeep. What is your twenty? Your location?”

  “Never mind, it’s dumb.”

  His gut was already on high alert, and he felt certain something bad was happening.

  Then she screamed, and he launched into motion, running out the door. “Where are you?”

  “The townhomes by the Naval Air Station.” Her voice was childlike and shaky. “I swear someone is outside my place, but it’s so dark.”

  “I know exactly where you are. What color is your car in the driveway?”

  “135 Hamilton. Red car.”

  Scar bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, rushing out of the lobby and heading to the boardwalk next to Coronado beach. The phone was pressed to his ear. “Shayla!”

  Nothing. Jogging down the hill, he looked at his phone. Dead. He cursed. Before seeing the incident the other night, he never would have believed a guy would have assaulted her right there outside of the bar. Just remembering it made his blood boil.

  He kicked his pace up a notch, feeling the sweat beginning to trickle down his back, but he could manage this for ten miles if he had to. Getting onto the boardwalk, he barked out, “Move!” He sprinted past swarms of civilians, who all seemed to jump out of his way.

  Finally, he reached her house, taking her porch steps two at a time. “Shayla!” he yelled.

  The door flung open and there she was—a red robe wrapped around her, her hair up in a messy bun, tennis shoes on her feet. She looked younger than twenty-one at this moment. A bit shaken. Desperate.

  He usually didn’t do desperate women; he was too old for that and didn’t have time to deal with all of their concerns every second. Now, though, he wanted to pull her into his arms. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  His eyes scanned past her, looking for an intruder, but she pointed to the side of the house, indicating a tangle of bushes and trees. Scar was tentative, sensing something was lurking there.

  She stayed on the porch, watching and waiting, holding up a flashlight for him.

  Suddenly, a possum burst out of the bushes and lumbered across the street. Shayla let out a yell, dropping the flashlight. Then she burst out laughing, and Scar joined in.

  Her robe came open as she bent over with laughter, and all he could focus on were her legs, little boxer shorts, and fitted T-shirt. Obviously, she was relaxing for the night, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing up her body. Her red hair once again hung in wisps around her face, and he longed to have her take her messy bun out and see her hair flowing free in the wind.

  Wait. Was he really thinking that? He shook his head and looked away.

  She came off the porch, picking up the flashlight and snuggling the robe back around her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

  Staring at the gorge
ous girl, Scar felt something ease in the center of his chest. He tried to shrug it off. “Actually, I was just going to work out and then go to sleep. So you did me a favor—I needed to run anyway.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Thank you. You saved me from a possum.” Her lips turned up in a huge grin.

  Standing up straighter, he put his hands on his hips. “There’ll be no possum eating women when I’m around.” He wanted to ask more questions, to put off their parting, so he took a chance he hadn’t taken with a woman for a long time. “Want to walk?” The moon was out, and now that his eyes had adjusted, he thought a walk on the boardwalk would be nice.

  Shayla looked at the ocean and then back at him nervously. “I’m sorry. I have to finish my school work.”

  “I thought the Romeo and Juliet assignment was done last night?”

  “It was. But I have another paper due in two days. I like to get a jump start on them.”

  There was something about this woman. Why had she called him that first night? Why had he magically shown up at the sports bar the other night? All he knew was he wanted to get to know her. “Hey, c’mon, an hour walk on the beach.” He turned on the charm, though it was softer than how he used it most of the time. “C’mon, Kansas. You’re not refusing the beach, are you?” He tapped his chest. “I’ll even buy you a hot dog.”

  Her lips turned up. “A hot dog?”

  It seemed like he was gaining yards, so he kept going. “Might even buy you some cotton candy too.”

  This made her fully smile. “Am I twelve?”

  He laughed. “I would say you may look like you’re twelve, but I’m glad you’re not.”

  For a few seconds, they seemed to be in a face-off. Then she let out a breath. “Okay, one hour.” She started climbing the stairs, going back into her townhome. “You can come in while I change if you want.”

  It felt like a loaded suggestion to Scar, to come into her house. But he reminded himself she was Kansas, not a cleat chaser. He could tell it was a kind, innocent gesture. Scar wanted to tell her she shouldn’t be asking strange men to come in her home, especially after the bar the other night and how jumpy she was.

  He followed, evaluating the sagging wood and the step that felt like it would break. He saw the siding that needed replacing, and as he opened the screen door and pulled it back behind him, he noticed it didn’t latch properly. When he got inside, he saw it was clean but bare-bones. There was a table in the corner holding what looked like it must be all of her books.

  The couch in the small living room was worn but clean. A simple afghan covered it, adding a kind of grandmotherly touch. There was a single chair facing a small television that looked like it wasn’t even hooked up.

  “I’ll be right back.” She rushed down the hall.

  He waited, still evaluating the living room, when he caught sight of a wall covered with different posters and paper and a list. Slowly, he walked toward it. It kind of looked like it was a very detailed FBI or police case file. As he inspected it more thoroughly, he realized it was a map of San Diego. All the things on the list were different places around the city. It had things listed like bike around Coronado Island, hike Torrey Pines, and visit Old Town San Diego. There were notes to see the lighthouse at Loma Point and take a helicopter ride around Oceanside. Was it kind of like a bucket list?

  Marry Jason on the beach. This piece of the bucket list slapped him in the face. Who the heck was Jason?

  “What are you doing?” She was back, and her tone was clipped but not angry.

  “Sorry.” He backed away and put his hands up.

  She’d put her red hair into a ponytail and wore spandex shorts, running shoes, and a white T-shirt. She looked amazing. He caught a whiff of some scent. Suntan lotion? It perplexed him because it wasn’t sunny.

  “What is that?” he asked, pointing to the wall.

  “Nothing.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s something. Is it a bucket list?” As much as he wanted to ask about this Jason, now wasn’t the time.

  She grabbed her keys and moved to the door. “Let’s go.”

  They left the townhome, walked across the street, and then hopped on the boardwalk. The naval base was on their right. It made him think of his BUDS training. All the hours being waterlogged. He dismissed those thoughts and focused on her. “Tell me about yourself, Kansas.”

  “I told you it was my dream to get here. My family thinks I’m crazy. I saved for a couple years after high school to be able to come to San Diego. I want to go to the community college for a year to get in-state tuition and then go to San Diego State.” She looked out over the ocean and smiled. “I’m lucky. Even though I’m terrified sometimes, I’m here.”

  It amazed him that she was so young and determined. “That’s cool. So who is this Jason you’re going to marry on the beach?”

  She exhaled. “You saw that?”

  He nodded, even more interested since she didn’t seem to want to tell him.

  “He’s the ex-boyfriend who dumped me the day before he was supposed to come here with me.”

  “Ouch,” he said. Honestly, he was glad Jason had dumped her and now he wanted to know more, but that probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

  She kept walking in silence. He took the break in conversation in stride, mulling over the other things on her bucket list.

  “You got quiet, soldier.” Her voice was quiet.

  He smiled. “I want to hear more about you.”

  They walked for a while, and it wasn’t long until they arrived at the Del Coronado. She stopped and moved a few steps away from the path, staring at the hotel. “I told you how my friend always came here. Well, she was my best friend. Charlotte. Charlotte and her brother were twins, lived next door. Every summer, they would come visit San Diego since their grandmother had a small house here. Her parents would always stay a couple of nights at this hotel. She would come back with pictures and stories about it. She would build these amazing sandcastles. She would bike around the boardwalk here. They would swim in the ocean and always bring back these amazing sand dollars.”

  As he watched her tell this story, something in his chest loosened and relaxed, and he connected to this woman. She looked beautiful as shared her childhood memories.

  “Charlotte and Dane—that’s her twin brother—would come home and show me their pictures. All I wanted was to come to San Diego and see the beach and go on those bike rides around the island and build those sandcastles.” She sighed and lifted her shoulder, a rueful smile on her face. “The vacation my family did each year was the fair.”

  His heart skipped a beat at the thought of the little girl yearning for the beach and getting dragged to the fair instead.

  “In my senior year of high school, Charlotte’s parents asked if I could go. Dane had some track camp and couldn’t make it that year. After much cajoling and promising to do extra chores, my parents finally agreed.” Her eyes lit up at the memory. “I came to Coronado Island, and I biked it. We built sandcastles there.” She pointed out to the shore. “Right over there. We played in the water and picked up sand dollars. It was perfect. Just perfect. I told myself that one day I would move to San Diego, and I would live on this island.”

  His heart hammered inside his chest, and he smiled at her. “And you did it.”

  “I did it.” There was fire in her eyes. A fierce pride. Then her lips turned down. “But it’s not Kansas. There are times, like the other night, when I don’t love it. Sometimes I wish I had my family. Stupid, right?”

  He caught up to her, his mind going through many options. “You need to learn fighting skills.”

  She smirked, probably thinking he was joking. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Fighting skills.”

  “Maybe. I just …” She turned and searched the ocean. “I thought it would be different. It’s still good. I just thought it would be more like the vacation. But like all grown-ups do, I discovered between school and work and studies I c
an’t just play at the beach all day. Plus, on the way out here my car broke down, so I don’t have money for fun right now.”

  “Do you need money?” It was strange he was asking her this, because he wasn’t the type to just give money away.

  She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “No. I have savings that I have stashed away for San Diego State.” She held up two fingers. “I worked two jobs and scrimped like crazy, so that money cannot be used for anything else. I’ll finish this summer class, work the next couple of months until August, spend another year at the community college, and apply for in-state enrollment status.”

  He grinned, liking her work ethic and determination more and more. “That’s efficient of you.”

  “How come it sounds like you’re taunting me?”

  “Because I am, but in a good way. You have learned discipline—that’s admirable.”

  She laughed. “Well, I don’t think I have the kind of discipline you have being a SEAL.”

  He imagined her younger self coming to San Diego, being free, loving it. “I guess we both have good discipline.” They passed a bike rental place, and he asked, “So you haven’t biked the island since you’ve moved here?”

  She looked caught. “I don’t have a bike.”

  An idea took shape in his mind. He pulled his wallet out. “Let’s do it now.”

  “What? No.” She walked faster.

  “Why not?” He caught up to her. “I’ll have you know I’ve never biked it either, and I grew up in San Diego.”

  She frowned at him. “Are you serious?”

  He chuckled. “It’s crazy, but biking this island has never been on my bucket list, yet it kinda sounds fun.”

  “No, I couldn’t. I don’t have my money with me.”

  He was already jogging over to the place. “Your company is your payment for my security services tonight.”

  She followed him reluctantly. “My company … is my payment?”

  “Yep.” He paid, and they got the bikes out.

  “So, let me get this straight. You come help me and you pay for the bike ride, yet this is somehow a payment to you?”