The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  Morganna has another date with Alex today. Which brings their date total up to three. To say I’m shocked she hasn’t kicked him to the curb is a testament to my own willpower.

  Wait, why the fuck is he still around? I truly have no clue. Part of me thinks it’s just to prove me wrong, or maybe to prove herself wrong. Perhaps it’s to prove the whole damn world wrong. She’s switched teams, she’s going after the Betas. He’s taking her out on a sailboat to go floating around or some other slow-mo, mind numbing activity.

  In other words, I’m positive Morg will be bored out of her fucking mind. A couple of my buddies are going out on my boat with me. It’s a boat of a different variety—the speeding, adrenaline-pumping kind. If we happen to see Morganna and Alex while we’re out, it will look completely harmless. I’ll hold my tongue, wish them a great day, and offer to cream their backs with sunblock before I speed off. Phillipe called to tell me that she left the house, because I asked him to, so I know my timing is perfect. He also mentioned she has a Saturday video conference and she’ll be back at her home office before 4 p.m. Currently, the guys are checking supplies on the boat, filling the cooler, and getting ready to push back.

  I toss the bottle of sunblock to Mav. “When is the last time you’ve been out on the water?” Maverick laughs, shifting drinks around in the cooler.

  “Almost every day of my fucking life. You’re lucky I agreed to come out with you. I try to avoid all non-essential boating these days. How do you still call this fun? Keep me dry. Keep me happy,” Mav says. His sentiment is common among SEALs. When you get wet and sandy as a profession, you generally avoid cold water like the plague. Then there are the lifers who can’t get enough of the sea water blasting in our faces. I love it. I can’t help it. It probably helped me get through training when I was miserable and wet, my clothes crispy stiff from being soaked in salt water and drying in the hot, blazing sun. I’m not a masochist by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s hard to be a SEAL if you despise water.

  “You are such a pussy, dude. Throw me a beer,” I order. Maverick complies, grabbing a couple brews for Cody and me, and water for himself. Then he takes his designated place at the steering wheel to drive.

  “Pussy is as pussy does,” he says smirking. “Here Cody.” Maverick tosses a beer to our teammate, but not before shaking it down by his side. I chuckle.

  I clear my throat, tighten the ties on my blue board shorts, and get the unpleasantness out of the way. “Just to be up front. We just have to check on her, you know, and make sure she’s having a horrible fucking time, and then we can head out and fish and eat lunch and drink beers until we don’t care if we catch fish or not.” Cody and Mav just stare at me like I’m from an alternate universe. It would seem to them that I am another person, I guess.

  “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you? You didn’t crack one fucking joke. You aren’t wearing your speedo. You have something to prove today, don’t you, Stevey?” Cody says, looking between Maverick and me.

  Maverick doesn’t say anything, but his stony face says it all. “Say it, Maverick. Just fucking say it,” I prod. He merely shakes his head. “I’ll tea-bag you and put bleach in your shampoo bottle again. Just fucking say it.”

  Cody clears his throat and moves out of the way, jetting to the back of the boat. He avoids conflict at all costs. A computer genius, his aim is damn lethal, but his social graces aren’t as rough as the rest of us. Sometimes it seems as if he doesn’t want to be bothered, other times it’s like he has some huge fucking secret hiding deep inside.

  Maverick perches his hands on his hips, his smart-ass half-smile blazing. “I don’t have to say anything, do I? It’s been long enough. It’s been more than long enough. Stone was…is…my best fucking friend. If I thought you were doing something wrong or off base, you’d know it. I’d still be out on this boat with you,” Maverick says, pointing down to the floor. “But you wouldn’t have a heartbeat and there would be concrete molds encasing your pansy ass feet,” he finishes, head cocked to the side, his bone frog tattoo, the same as mine, twisting around his huge neck. “I love you Steve. I love you. But you’re being a wimpy ass toddler. I’ve watched you prance around your feelings for Morganna Sterns for too long. Let me tell you something: you don’t have the fucking body or graces to be prancing around anything. March your fucking ass up to her and lay it all out for her. She’s an intelligent woman. She’ll give you a direct answer on the spot and put you out of this purgatory misery.”

  All I can do is stare at this motherfucker. He’s saying these wise things because he has Windsor. Not everyone gets that sort of fairy tale. Some stories end up in the goddamn shitter. It’s been years since Stone died. I’m not sure what measure one uses to know when they’re ready to move on. What if they’re never ready? But Morganna is. She’s dating. I cringe when I think about her having sex with the dude.

  “I’ll prance circles around you,” I say, rising onto tiptoes and prancing my most delicate prance all the way around Maverick. I rub my ass against his when I complete a circle around him. He swats at me with a huge arm.

  “Don’t make jokes, dude,” he commands. Cody’s beer can cracks open and explodes in his face, fizzing until he gulps several sips down. I laugh.

  Humor is my fall back. “I’m not. It’s just harder than you make it seem. I can’t fill his fucking shoes, man. I can’t even pretend. It would be like asking her to play pretend. She is dating a creative type. It’s obvious she doesn’t want the reminder of what could have been,” I explain as best as I can, but the concept is foreign. I’m also treading on thin ice. You can’t talk about Stone to a certain degree without upsetting Maverick. I’m not sure where exactly that line in the sand is, but I know when you cross it he shuts down almost completely. He always will, too. Everyone knows it and respects it. It’s how he’s moved on. Stone was my brother as well. I’m in a twisted type of brotherhood with a ghost that still holds the love that I want.

  Cody chimes in. Voice low, he says, “It’s been long enough.” The fact that he has a say lets me know I’m being a real wimp because I think dating gives Cody the hives.

  Maverick pushes the throttle forward and we set off at a slow speed. My eyes immediately scan for any and all sailboats. “It’s so ironic. Miss bossy pants was the one forcing me back to Windsor because she knew my feelings and now she’s fucking some douche just to avoid her own feelings. Who knows—maybe he’s a fucking shark in the sack,” Mav says. Cody chokes on his beer.

  I scowl at Cody. “You better clean all that shit up. I don’t want a sticky deck.”

  “How do sharks fuck?” Cody asks, ignoring my orders completely. Typical. No one takes goofy Steve seriously.

  “Like they’re out for blood,” Mav explains.

  I punch Maverick in the arm that’s not responsible for steering. “She’s not fucking him. There’s no way she’s giving it up that easily. There’s no way. And don’t talk about it. That’s rude.”

  A cacophony of very male laughter surrounds me. “Rude? We’re being rude? Coming from the prick with three girlfriends and a best friend that you’re in love with. Tell me something, man. Do you think of Morg when you fuck your girlfriends? Or is that too rude? Or is it rude because you want to be the one screwing her? Define rude, man. I need to hear this,” Maverick says, through gasping breaths of hysterics. I fold my arms across my chest to the best of my ability. My biceps like to cock block the arms folded position. Assholes. Maverick throttles and the boat breaks on wake, causing me to lose my balance. More laughter.

  “I have girlfriends to pass the time,” I say looking directly at Cody. He glances away, not wanting any part of this argument. I’d win it without even trying. “I think about fucking when I’m fucking. What am I supposed to think about? It’s rude to talk about her that way because her husband is dead and he’d be the one fucking her right now if he wasn’t. That’s why it’s rude, Maverick.” I probably just crossed the line, but I’m seeing red. I’m so a
ngry at what Maverick is making me feel that I’ll edge my toes closer to that invisible line. I take a seat so he can’t throw me again.

  He shrugs, tilting his head to the side. “You’re supposed to think about how in love you are when you’re fucking the right woman,” Maverick says. “And sometimes about tits, pussy, and ass. But always how much more amazing they are because of who they belong to. It’s not rude, Steve. It’s rude to make her fuck guitar man. Alpha up, you pussy. You’ve known her longer than anyone. If anyone knows what you need to do to seal that deal, it’s you.”

  “She doesn’t want me or anyone else that resembles him.”

  Mav shakes his head. “She is avoiding you because of that reason. She wants it. Oh, she wants it. And that’s the angle you need play. You have the ability to fulfill everything that woman wants and needs. Let her know that. Because the dude she’s dating is a decoy to bolster her self esteem.” He’s right. Maverick just had the balls to say what I’ve never said out loud.

  “Have you told her that?” I ask, morbidly curious.

  “No, but Windsor has. She’ll bite, Steve. She’ll bite. You just have to cast it close enough to make it seem like an easy catch.”

  “I’m already her best friend. How can I make it any easier?” He’s insane. But I’m even more curious. What exactly did Morganna tell Windsor? Why didn’t Maverick tell me sooner?

  “Drop the friend part and it’s in the bag.”

  I always want to be her friend first. She’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted to be friends with. “And my other…friends?” I ask, referring to my girlfriends. It sounds bad when I talk about it, but they are well versed on what’s to expect. Except when they’re not…and then infrequent Cass scenarios pop up. I interrupt before he can respond. “I broke up with Cass. It’s just Chloe, and Sasha when she’s in town. Do I go all Catholic Pope and break up with them too?”

  “Get rid of Chloe? You’re fucking insane, Steve,” Cody chimes in. I shake my head. Chloe is hot. She’s the fake variety of hot. Rocking body, bottle blonde hair, and makeup so thick that it’s always smudged on my pillows and only comes out with bleach. Cass always hated that. Don’t get me wrong, Chloe is an intelligent woman, but I have no interest in that part of her body.

  “You want her Cody? She does this thing with her tongue,” I say sticking out my tongue and rolling it slowly. “She’s wife material and definitely a frog hog.” Or a woman who chases after SEALs as sport. “I can put in a good word,” I joke. Panic sets in at the thought of having no one, but I can’t let them know. “She dated Dex before me. She’ll stick around while we’re away for deployments and trips and shit.”

  Cody crushes his beer can and grabs another. “I don’t need your help finding women. I don’t want to be your Eskimo brother,” he retorts. Liar. “If you’re serious about creating something worth a damn with Morganna, you do need to break up with your female friends. All of them. No back-up plans,” Cody says.

  I switch on the stereo system and turn the country music up to a volume that makes conversation impossible. My women aren’t that much work to begin with, but it would free up even more time if I didn’t have to remember to call, or see them, or have sex with them. Shit. Celibacy doesn’t sound appealing no matter what’s going on. I glance at Cody. It probably appeals to him.

  The boat slows and the guitar-twanging, warbling crooner lowers in response. “I hate to break up this sincere convo, but Morg and company. Three o’clock. We’re coming in hot.” Mav chuckles.

  I haven’t officially met Alex yet. That’s not what is making my heart pound in my fucking chest though; it’s the thought of Morganna in a bikini. I prepare myself mentally, because if I don’t I’ll regret it, and subtly peer over my shoulder. Black. Her bikini is formed of two tiny triangles and a black almost-thong. I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing this particular swimsuit. She must have bought it specifically for this date.

  “Fuck,” I whisper under my breath. I look at Maverick, who currently looks like the cat who ate the canary. “Slow down, Maverick.” He tosses a big arm in the air and waves like a buffoon. Cody stands and makes his way next to Maverick, and I’m left with no choice but to turn around and face their direction.

  Waving, not like a lunatic, I smile at Morganna. I see her shake her head, but her smirk pulls to one corner just like it always does when she sees me. Alex jauntily swings around the ropes of the sailboat and lands next to her in one fluid motion. Mav motors the boat perfectly to rest next to their anchored boat.

  I study the guy Morg finds so appealing and come to one conclusion: Average. Nothing stands out about him. Alex could be any guy walking down the street. Plain. Ordinary. With a lean build and hair that reaches his collarbone, he looks like any other struggling musician in the world.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. Phillipe told you I was here?” Morganna asks loudly, talking over my engines. Mav kills the engine. “Hey guys,” she says, no trace of her country accent.

  I cock my head to the side. “I don’t need Phillipe to get the information I want, Morg. We just happened to be cruising around today. It’s beautiful outside.” I gesture to the sunny blue sky. “Are you going to introduce us to your little friend.” She reaches up and pulls her long black hair into a ponytail, annoyed with my choice of adjective, I’m sure.

  “Alex these are the guys…my friends, Maverick, Cody, and Steven.” She nods to each of us as she says our names. Another thing I notice about Alex: he doesn’t balk at our appearance. He’s either been warned about Morganna’s friends or he’s stupid. Generally speaking, the tattoos and sheer body mass garner at least a slight eyebrow rise from the unknowing. They don’t call us America’s elite for nothing.

  The guys grunt typical pleasantries and Alex shifts from one foot to the other. “It’s very nice to meet you. All of you,” he says, gaze connecting with mine. “Morganna has told me so much about you.” The fact that she’s been talking about me to him pisses me off.

  “Only good things, I’m sure,” I growl, my gaze darting directly to Morganna. Her eyes shift to the side. Alex wraps a scrawny arm around her waist and my annoyance morphs into rage. Maverick stands beside me and claps a hand on my shoulder. If my gaze held fire, I’d be burning a hole through his hand on her tan, glistening waist. Actually I’d burn him entirely to the ground, singe the infidel into ashes.

  “I’m a gentleman, fellas. I’d never betray Morganna’s confidence. Good or bad,” Alex the STD responds. I take in a deep breath. Cody chuckles. I hear him pop open another beer. Readying himself for the shit show, I’m sure.

  I crack my knuckles beside me. “What is it you do, Alex? Other than whatever she tells you?” My eyes squint and hone in on the tiny movement of his hand. He’s finally uncomfortable. Morganna, sensing hostility, shrugs out of his grasp. Alex clears his throat and averts his eyes.

  “Classy, Steven,” Morganna sneers. “Is there anything else you need? I’m obviously alive and well. Tell Windsor I said hello.” She thinks I’m here to make sure she’s okay. She has no idea that seeing her with him is making me delusional with jealousy. Maverick smiles and starts talking to her about Windsor and the kids and, for the moment, I’m relieved I don’t have to pretend.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn around and grab a beer and gulp down several large swallows. I don’t want a clear head right now. I’d rather drink until I forget exactly what’s happening. Cody glances at me in between screwing around on his iPhone. I remember what he said about dropping the friends. Maybe I can’t be her best friend anymore. When I turn around it’s obvious she’s been staring at my back. She’s always staring at me, my body, my face. Point for the home team. I smile, not letting it reach my eyes. I notice Alex has taken to fiddling with the sails starboard while making himself scarce. Perfect.

  Not friends, I remind myself. “You look stunning today, M. That bathing suit is singeing the state,” I rasp, in the most non-friends way possible. Her eyes widen. I’ve taken her off guard
. I add, “I’ve missed you.” Her thick lips part. Her body language is still of a confident, fearless woman, but the tiny tells on her face are more than enough information for me.

  She clears her throat. “Thank you for that highly inappropriate compliment. It’s actually an old bathing suit. I pulled it out of retirement. I’m pretty sure it’s not what’s singeing the state right now.” Bam. The Morganna shark is back. I laugh, my head tilted toward the sky. I lick my lips and watch her gaze flick down to my mouth. The tension is palpable, and for once I’m glad that we’re not by ourselves. I need everyone to realize this chemistry isn’t one sided. I want the world to see it—be envious of it. Alex might realize he will never put this look in her eye. Never. I’m sure of it. I hear Maverick and Cody talking behind me, the radio on. I’m confident no one can hear me except for Morg.

  I jerk my chin toward her. “You singe more than states,” I respond, reaching down to readjust my dick. Her eyes dart down, and her shrewd gaze slowly wanders back up to mine. My implied meaning is crystal fucking clear. “But you already know that.” She clears her throat, visibly affected by my words.

  “Morganna, you ready to head out for a little sail? We don’t have much time before you need to get back,” Alex prompts, breaking her train of thought. I point the nastiest glare possible his direction, then return my gaze to her.

  Morganna lays her small hand, nails red, on the center of her chest. “ Of course. Of course. We must stay on schedule.” Her voice is breathy. I wonder if I just sparked something inside her. Something with benefits that I won’t reap. Fuck. I need to play it cool.

  I also need to let him know I am a permanent fixture in her life. “I’ll see you later, then?” I ask her, winking. She shakes her head, but that fierce look in her eyes is still there. She means yes. I don’t think I can make my not friends agenda any clearer.

  “I’ll see you later, guys,” she says, waving to us as Alex pushes his boat away from ours—like it’s some sort of disease. Doesn’t he know that he’s the sexually transmitted disease?