The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3

by Rachel Robinson

  Fucking Rosy isn’t going to help me forget. Not for one second.

  It sure is going to be fun trying, cock says.

  _______________

  I’ve tried calling Molly four times this morning. Granted it’s before six a.m. and she isn’t required to answer her cell before seven, but I want to talk to her. I think it’s talk that I want to do. Half of me is angry because of her underhanded date set-up, but the other half is pretty fucking happy with her for it. Rosy left my place late last night. Mostly we talked, and when she tried to initiate more I wasn’t game. Because what hot-blooded male turns down sex with a young, intelligent woman who is asking for it? Someone as fucked up as I am, that’s who. Her company was nice, and she even pretended to be interested in my coding expeditions. She smiled and asked questions when I told her, in laymen terms, what I was working on. Dare I say her company was a welcome surprise. She got embarrassed when I politely declined a blowjob, assuming she picked up wrong cues throughout the night. I reassured her that the cues were all there, but I was tired and wanted an intimate encounter with a woman such as herself to be perfect. It was a load of horseshit.

  I can’t stop thinking about how upset Lainey looked last night. She’s getting married. She’s supposed to be this glowing, happy, radiant bride. Seeing me put her off in a bad way. Did I condemn her to a life of unhappiness with Dax? Surely she knows she has a choice to say ‘fuck you, Dax, I’m marrying no one.’

  Rosy gave me her phone number and we made plans to meet at the bookstore this weekend. We’ll see if she cancels before then. I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, that’s for sure.

  I wander from my bedroom to the kitchen. Pouring orange juice straight into my mouth from the container without my lips touching and without spilling a drop is a skill I’ve perfected over time. I finish off the bottle, order a take-out breakfast, and turn on my computers for the daily grind. I have a meeting with the guys at eleven and a day full of staring at computer monitors again. I click open my email to see if anything has changed overnight. Several emails catch my eye, but one, always the one, starred as V.I.P. gets opened first. It’s of the most unexpected sort.

  From: LaineyRostov@Memail.com

  To: Cridge@ridgecontract.com

  Subject: Intimate encounters

  I debated for a full six hours whether I should give you another second of my life with this email, but in the end I figured I better. Because assholes stretched as wide as you tend to stink and need to hear the truth sometimes.

  1.) I would like custody of the café by your house. I don’t care if it’s by your house. It’s by my favorite fabric store, so I’m there frequently. Good lettuce is hard to find in NYC.

  2.) This one is more of a PSA because I feel the need to get it off my chest. The next time you decide to break up with a woman you should do it sober, with clean clothing and maybe drop a few fucking hints before. Definitely don’t send confusing emails days before you break her heart.

  3.) The real reason I’m emailing after a month of no contact is because Dax is insisting that I invite you to the wedding. The very last thing I want is for you to come and I told him this, but he has some fucked up notions that you being there means you accept the fact that we’re married and that you won’t change your mind and come groveling back to me one day in the future. I know. He’s fucking crazy. Like I would entertain that notion for even a millisecond. After the things you said, I can’t fathom you ever choosing to be in my presence again, but just in case you’re wondering how I feel. There you go.

  In conclusion, running into you was awkward. Let’s not let that happen again. Don’t be such a heartless asshole. Losing a person twice isn’t easy. You should have at least taken me out to dinner before you fucked me over. And you’re invited to our wedding. Formal wedding invitation to follow, but you better RSVP ‘no’.

  P.S. I’m sorry it’s late. The delay was out of my hands, but your furniture is being delivered tomorrow. I’ll finish the job and make sure it’s installed properly. (As long as you’re not there.)

  P.P.S. I thought blondes were more your thing, cradle robber.

  Time (cough, cough) and (give me) Space,

  Lainey

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lainey

  IT TOOK FAR longer to compose the email to Cody than I’m willing to admit. The words started forming the second I saw him with that girl in the café. Jealousy like I’ve never experienced hit me like a tsunami. It was a horrible feeling that had me seeing green. I think dealing with his death was easier. At least then I thought he was gone for good. Now I know he’s living, breathing, and potentially loving someone other than me. I’m marrying another man and I feel like this about Cody. It’s the most selfish, horrible predicament that anyone on the face of the earth has ever had to deal with. I’m sure of it. I reassure Dax all the time, because why wouldn’t he be leery? I tried to break up with him multiple times while I was with Cody all in the name of true love. Lying to him this time is easy. Cody doesn’t want me anymore. He’s moved on so thoroughly that he’s dating. My stomach flips and I feel faint thinking of him with another woman. Will this feeling ever subside? Will this be my torture for not being right for him? It doesn’t seem fair. In fact, it seems like utter, fucking crap. Anger is the next step in the progression to forgetting Cody Ridge, and I remind myself of that daily.

  “We don’t have to go on our honeymoon directly following the wedding, Dax. I mean, you’ll be busy at work and I have a couple of design jobs in limbo.” He already vetoed my idea of skipping a honeymoon altogether. He says we need to reconnect on a deeper level somewhere off the map, just the two of us. He’s probably right. I’m just going along with the motions at this point because Dax is so sure about everything. It will be enough for me too. It has to. The Rostov clan is coming to town for a big ole’ wedding. “I know you think we should go somewhere exotic and different, but what if we stayed close to home?” I think of the house, my house, in the Hamptons and long for another visit. Dax would be severely depressed if he knew where my thoughts are right now.

  Dax looks up from a stack of pamphlets, folders, and books scattered in front of him. “Where did you have in mind?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

  Picking up my spoon, I dip it back into my coffee and begin stirring it again. “Oh, I don’t know. A quick flight. A long weekend somewhere manageable.” Nonchalant enough?

  He shrugs. “It’s like you don’t care, Lainey. I thought we moved past this. You were excited for the wedding before, now you’re lukewarm at best. Is it him, still?”

  I cough on a hot sip. “Of course not. We’ve been together for a long time. I’m not the type of person who wants flair and dramatics. I get the desire to get away for a bit, but it doesn’t have to be to Bali or Seychelles or some private island off the coast of Australia. Simple is all I’m saying. I’m not lukewarm, Dax. I’m hot,” I say, smiling at him over my mug. He smiles back—it’s genuine and warm. This is why I’m marrying him.

  Standing up, I walk over and perch myself in his lap and clasp my hands around his neck. “You’re beyond hot, but I’d fathom a guess you know that already. You’re trying to work your wiles at this very moment,” Dax says, running his hand over my knee and up my leg.

  “My wiles are quite innocent, Mr. Redding,” I respond, using my very best Austen English accent.

  He laughs. “Innocence isn’t something you play well.”

  That takes me aback a little, but he doesn’t mean it the way he should. Because he truly is the innocent one in this coupling. He doesn’t realize it. I kiss him on the corner of his mouth, half on his cheek. I feel him smiling under my lips. That’s all I feel—the physical response from him. There’s no zings, emotions, wanton lust attached to anything these days. Since Cody, I haven’t felt much of anything below the waist. I don’t crave Dax’s touch or dream about bodice ripping sex that melts the bed sheets. Time. I just need more time to forget Cody. I’m not even su
re if that’s a possibility, but I have hope. He took more than my heart. The casualties were high and far reaching. Hope. He can’t have that.

  Dax pulls me over his lap so I’m straddling him. His cock is hard and pushing against my core. “What do you think, Lainey? I said we should wait until our wedding night, but maybe we can fuck around a little. I miss you and this would probably be a lot less stressful if we both got our rocks off together.” Dax hasn’t been staying with me at my house. We’ve fucked a million times, but now he wants to wait until the wedding. Something about prolonging the longing. I’m not sure how it does anything except frustrate him, but I agreed mainly because I don’t care about sex right now. When I do dream about sex, Dax isn’t the star of my wet and wild fantasies.

  His eyelids are heavy as he strokes the outside of my thighs. “Oh, my, Mr. Redding. You’d have me fuck around before the big walk?” I ask, staying in character. The word fuck doesn’t have a ladylike quality with any accent. That’s okay. I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be dirty in every country around the world.

  He leans in and kisses my neck. “I’d fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk,” he responds. What should ignite desire makes me feel uneasy instead. He’s your fucking fiancé, Lainey. Pull your shit together and be a woman. I’m saved from having to concoct a response when my cell phone rings on the table behind me. It’s the morose tone I assign when my mother calls.

  I hold my finger to Dax’s lips. “Hold that thought, baby,” I say, scooting off and into my own chair to answer the call. He’d never have me ignore my mother, being the gentleman he is. Right now, he looks like he may have changed his stance on it, though.

  “Mom. How are you?” I say into the smartphone. She greets me, her accent sounding familiar and comforting to my Americanized ears. “Yes, I’m home. Why do you ask?” I haven’t spoken to her about Cody. She hasn’t asked. It’s the unspoken rule that I’m not to fuck up this wedding.

  “Your cousins are flying in for your bachelorette party. They can stay at your house, right?” I’d forgotten completely about the party. Chloe has been planning it for months, but we haven’t spoken about it recently. Shit.

  Chloe invited family from overseas? It’s news to me. Unwelcome news. “That’s right,” I say, pretending to know and pulling my planner open at the same time. I let my finger scroll through the dates and find the Saturday it’s planned for. It’s not even marked in my fucking calendar. It’s this weekend. God help me.

  “Sure thing. Of course they can stay with me. Do they need a ride from the airport?”

  “No, no. Of course they’ll get a driver. Do you need to hire cleaners before they arrive?” Oh, this is where she’s going with this conversation.

  I scoff. “Mom, my house is always clean.” Because I have a cleaner come biweekly. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

  “It’s a large house, Lainey. I want to make sure you’re not overwhelmed with anything before the big day. That’s enough for you to worry about.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, my tone sharp. Dax looks up. I see him scrutinizing my face in my peripheral vision. I ignore him the best I can, but I’m not sure where Mom is going, so I stand up and start pacing around the dining room.

  She’s silent on the other end. I hear her breathing. “I know, sweetheart. I know how you’re feeling. Conflicted, to put it mildly. I can’t imagine how I’d feel in your situation.” Pain sears my chest. Cody. Even my disconnected mother senses my inner turmoil by merely looking at my situation from the outside, knowing no details.

  I glance behind me at Dax and give him a little smile before slipping out of a set of French doors that lead to an open deck. “You don’t know a lot of things, Mom. Cody made it quite clear that I’m making the right decision by marrying Dax. Don’t worry about me. I know how to make good life decisions.”

  “You’re my daughter. I’ll always worry for you. Good as the decision may be, it may not be where your heart is. Of course I’ll be enraged if you call off another wedding, but I’ll get over it if it means you’re making a good life decision that also makes your heart happy. I just can’t imagine,” she says. No one can imagine.

  “Cody broke up with me, Mom. The exact words he used were ‘I don’t want you, Lainey. Marry him.’ I can’t argue with that. He’s a jerk, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Dax is a great man and I’ll live a beautiful, loving life with him. When do my cunning cousins arrive?” Maybe a subject change will help ease the tremors in my hands. I suck in a breath away from the phone receiver. Air. I need air. I can’t talk about this. My cousins aren’t really my cousins. They are the twin daughters of my mother’s best friend. I grew up with them teasing me unmercifully. Two against one isn’t fun. I’d fathom a guess that I hold the upper hand these days, but the prospect of seeing them, partying with them, and housing them is daunting. At least I’m getting married first.

  “Nothing is ever as it seems, sweet girl. You know that. How long did you pretend to be something you weren’t? Aren’t you doing that now still? Different in some ways, but at the core you’re still a master at pretending. You forget I’m your mother. I raised you. I know these things.” That small sentimental bone I have in my pinky finger starts aching for my mom. I need to visit her, hug her, let her understand me like no one else can. Still, her words ignite fire because she’s right.

  “I am myself. I don’t know how to be anyone else!” My voice rises and I remind myself to keep my tone down. I have neighbors now. A quick glance in their direction and I see them outside by their pool. It’s a middle-aged couple with beautiful hair and a small dog that yaps incessantly. They are the typical resident in this neighborhood. Those that have worked hard for most of their lives and can now afford waterfront property in a gated community. I raise my hand when the man looks my way. He waves back, but turns to go into his house. Good, take that fucking rat dog with you, I think.

  “If you get cold feet, it may be more than that, honey. That’s all I’ll say about it for now.”

  “God, it’s like you’re on Cody’s side or something, Mom. Didn’t you hear what I told you? I didn’t have a choice! He ended our…affair, relationship, whatever you want to call it.”

  “Did he really?” she asks.

  I growl. “Yes. I’m one hundred percent sure.”

  “People say things they don’t mean every day. You’re not the only one who can pretend.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re like a stale fortune cookie today, Jules,” I say, sitting down in one of the several iron reclining sun chairs. My sunglasses are sitting on the table next to me, so I pop them on.

  She ignores me and begins telling me flight information. They arrive tomorrow. Great. I make a mental checklist of everything I need to get done on top of my never-ending usual list. I hear a door upstairs close and look up. It’s the set of French doors that open to the upstairs wrap-around balcony. I wonder how long Dax was listening. This is what it’s come to. A month before our wedding and he has to listen in on phone conversations with my mother to garner information. What am I doing?

  You’re making a life for yourself. A life that would have been perfect if Cody never existed. But he does.

  My mom makes plans to come down and spend the day with me when my cousins get here, tells me she loves me and misses me, and then hangs up without another word about her mysterious prophecies about Cody and our non-relationship. Dax didn’t hear anything. He couldn’t have. I plaster a fake smile on my face, walk into the dining room, and find a note on the counter from Dax.

  Went to the store. Call if you need anything. ILY.

  I sigh, relieved, yet worried. At least now I have time to make a phone call to the house cleaner and request that she come and tidy up and make up some guest rooms for the girls. Next is Chloe to make sure she doesn’t need any help with God knows what she has planned for this weekend. She doesn’t. She tells me she has it handled like a large cock in the palm
of her hand. Eloquent. I shower, dress in a pair of jeans, and drive to Cody’s hopefully empty house to be there for the delivery. Some may think I’m asking for trouble even going to his empty house, but with how he feels about me, trouble isn’t even on my radar. Hurt is—pain and bewilderment, too. I’ll merely tell the delivery men where to arrange his beautiful pieces and then lock the door behind me and never go back. Never mind that the things I selected were things that I myself loved and thought were perfect. You know, that would go perfectly in the house with my dream kitchen and everything else that was supposed to be mine. Including him. I roll my window down and let my hair air-dry on the drive over to the house.

  I’m anticipating this being a sick kind of torture.

  _______________

  The trucks are already here waiting when I pull up thirty minutes early. I call Dax to let him know I’m overseeing a delivery and I’ll be home for lunch. I also tell him about my cousins crashing the house in the very near future. He sounds happy. Probably because it’s the next step to the altar. We’re running out of days and activities. He tells me he plans on having a bachelor party this weekend, too. So we’ll both be out and distracted. We won’t be jealous of each other. I roll my eyes. After what I did to him, I can’t imagine being jealous over anything he could possibly get up to. If he wants hookers and blow for his bachelor party, I’ll support it. I also know that’s not Dax. But I tell him he is welcome to have as much fun as he wants.