Hot SEAL, Tijuana Nights

by Cat Johnson

  Memories of Gabby and Amanda joking around that day by the pool the summer before their senior year in college.

  As much as he’d tried to ignore the thorn in his side that day, he’d noticed Gabby all right. She’d been facing away from him, standing on top of the damn diving board, doing a hula.

  Yes, literally doing the hula. Or at least she had been trying to teach the dance to Amanda, who apparently had not been born with the hula gene and needed lots of tutoring.

  But from his vantage point, all he could see was the sway of Gabby’s hips. The curve that nipped in to her narrow waist. The fall of long dark hair over one shoulder like a veil over one round breast.

  Hawk was right. There, like that with the single pink hibiscus flower she’d plucked from his mom’s bush and tucked behind one ear, she could have stepped right off a billboard advertising suntan lotion.

  A tropical beauty surreally out of place on the concrete deck of his parents’ backyard pool.

  Zach had done well at ignoring her until then. But between the cold beer and that hot view, parts of his body—one part in particular—had become laser focused on Gabby. He’d been forced to head to the bathroom and handle the growing situation before he embarrassed himself.

  No one else had seen, but he knew what had happened and he’d never stop being pissed at himself over it.

  His parents sold that house a couple of years ago—right after his grandma had died. They’d moved to a retirement community on a golf course in Arizona, but he’d never forget that pool. And Hawk, still regaling the guys with a blown up retelling of the events of that day, obviously wasn’t about to let Zach try.

  Finally, Zach’s phone rang—or rather the obnoxious song he’d assigned as the ringtone for his so often annoying sister sounded.

  Baby shark, doo-doo, doo-doo doo-doo . . .

  The ringtone elicited a round of groans from the men seated at the table.

  “Dude! What the fuck?” T-Bone glared at the cell as if he was considering squashing it like a bug beneath his meaty fist.

  Scowling, Nitro shot Zach a glare. “Shit, man. Now that fucking song is gonna be stuck in my head for days.”

  “I don’t know. I kinda like it.” Dutch shrugged. His comment momentarily redirected the team’s wrath toward him and away from Zach.

  “Sorry.” Cringing, Zach snatched the cell and swiped the screen to answer the call. Raising the cell to his ear, he said, “About time you got back to me.”

  “Me! What about you?” Amanda lobbed the question back at him. “If anyone is uncommunicative in this family, it’s you. When were you going to tell me you were home from the front?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t on the front, as you call it.”

  And he would have gotten around to telling her he was home after he’d decompressed for a day or two. At least that had been his plan until it was shot to hell by little Miss Shower Curtain.

  Amanda wouldn’t understand what it was like to re-acclimate to normal civilian home life after being deployed for months. Since she’d never get it, he didn’t bother trying to explain.

  Instead he moved on to the issue uppermost in his mind. “Don’t be a smart ass. You have a lot of explaining to do. Such as your friend living in my damn house while I was gone.”

  “Don’t exaggerate. She wasn’t living there. Well, at least not until yesterday.”

  Zach’s eyes popped wide. “You knew? And you have no problem with it?”

  The team’s conversation at the table was getting in the way of Zach being able to completely concentrate on his call.

  His sister was tricky. She could talk circles around anyone anytime. He’d need all his faculties to debate her and make sure she didn’t get away with anything.

  He stood and made his way toward the patio wall where he could hear better. The street noise was quieter than the group of SEALs into their second round.

  “Gabby had a perfectly good explanation. It was all a misunderstanding and honestly, given how much work she’s done and how little money she’d take for it, you should be grateful. You owe her,” Amanda proclaimed.

  “I owe her?” He let out a snort, but decided to move on to the bigger subject—Amanda hiring Gabby in the first place. “What were you thinking turning my place upside down while I was away?”

  “I was thinking you might like coming home to a house that reflects who you are, and not one that looks like an eighty-year old woman has lived there since nineteen-fifty-six.”

  He drew in a breath. He happened to like the way it was. It was comfortable. He was used to it. And now it was all gone and God only knew what kind of modern shit Gabby was planning on moving in. He was going to have to find out. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get everything back.

  “Amanda, you should have asked me first.”

  “If I had you wouldn’t have let me do it.”

  “Exactly. But instead you let her toss all of Grandma’s stuff.”

  She paused and he braced for another argument. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  The apology, and the sincerity with which it was delivered, took him off guard.

  He drew in a breath, feeling bad for not appreciating her gift, even if he hadn’t wanted it in the first place. “It’s okay. I know you meant well.”

  “She’s going to finish.”

  He let out a laugh. “I’m not sure I want her to finish.”

  Taking his truck to the furniture store where he could pick his own stuff sounded like the safer bet. It would cost him but at least the choice would be his.

  “Please, Zach. I’ve seen her plans. It’s going to be perfect. I promise. And if you don’t like it, I’ll help you redo it all and pay for it.”

  He didn’t like accepting anything from his sister, certainly not money. He was the older sibling. He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.

  “Please . . .” she repeated. “Gabby is here crying her eyes out she’s so upset that you’re mad.”

  “I doubt that.” Zach knew one thing about Amanda—she wasn’t above exaggerating the truth to get her way.

  “Don’t be a hater. She didn’t want to take the job. She warned me you’d be mad and I didn’t listen, so if you’re mad at anyone, it should be me. Not her. Let her finish the job, Zach.”

  A feeling of dread riding him, Zach drew in a breath and made probably the worst decision of his life. “All right. She can finish. But she has to move all her shit out of my garage.”

  He’d peeked inside and it looked like, crammed in there with a few of his own prized possessions including the big screen television, was what must be all of Gabby’s belongings that didn’t fit in her car.

  “She will. I’m coming over tomorrow after work with a rental truck to help her move it all to a storage unit.”

  He had a bad feeling Amanda would be paying for at least part of that endeavor out of guilt. And he’d just end up helping them load all the shit anyway because there was no way two women were loading a moving truck while he sat on his ass and watched them.

  He groaned, about to dig his own grave deeper. “No. Don’t bother. It can stay in the garage. For now. But it all goes the minute she finds a permanent place to live. And that had better not be in your guestroom,” he warned.

  “It won’t be. She’s looking for a place. And thank you, Zach. I knew buried real deep down there was a good guy inside you somewhere.”

  “Watch it, sis. I can still change my mind.”

  “You could, but you won’t.” There was a smile in her voice. “Love you, bro. Oh, and Gabby will be there early-early. So don’t be naked in the shower or anything when she gets there.”

  A growl was his response to that little joke. “Good night, Amanda.”

  “Night, Zach. Love you.”

  “Yeah, love you too.” Rolling his eyes at how his sister had somehow managed to get her way once again, he disconnected the call and headed back to the table.

  It seemed he’d
be waking up to Gabby in the morning, whether he liked it or not. He sat and reached for his beer. He was going to need it.

  TEN

  The sun was just a hint of a peachy glow on the horizon when Gabby pulled her SUV next to Zach’s truck parked in his driveway.

  Just the sight of his vehicle was enough to give her heart palpitations—and not the good kind like she used to get when she caught a glimpse of him without his shirt by his parents’ pool.

  This was the last place she wanted to be right now. The thrill of finishing this house had been totally trampled by the reappearance of the man who owned it.

  They could have made a new emoji out of Zach’s expression yesterday when he’d caught her there. It could be called mean scary frowny-faced man.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat and staring at the house wasn’t productive. Every moment she procrastinated in the driveway was another delay in getting this job done, and finishing fast was more critical now than ever.

  She hated feeling like she was intruding but she had no choice. Drawing in a breath she opened the door and stepped down. Everything she needed was already here since she’d been planning on working—and living—there before Zach’s untimely reappearance.

  At the front door, she paused. She still had the key, which she supposed she should return to Amanda before Zach called the cops on her. Should she use it now? It was really early.

  Would Zach be madder that she let herself in or that she woke him up at the crack of dawn ringing the bell? It was a tough call. A paralyzing decision. She was so afraid of pissing this man off further she couldn’t move.

  Fuck it. She had work to do. Amanda had told him she’d be here today early to finish. She’d heard the phone conversation. He’d been warned.

  She slid the key into the lock and as quietly as she could, let herself inside. Creeping through the dark house made her feel even more like a criminal until she got to the door leading to the garage.

  Slipping into the garage, she turned on the lights so she could get to work. It felt like she’d reached sanctuary, even though it looked more like a storage unit at the moment, filled with most of her apartment’s contents.

  Luckily, she’d sanded everything outside in the driveway yesterday—before her shower and before Zach had kicked her out of his house.

  This morning, she could start painting all of her treasures.

  A couple of coats and the little wooden table would be ready to put in place in the master bedroom as a nightstand. No one would ever guess its humble origin as street side trash.

  Same with the wood shutters she’d found by the dumpster behind the Home Depot. They’d been tossed because the wood on the bottom had splintered but Gabby didn’t care. They’d be the headboard for Zach’s bedroom.

  The new queen-sized mattress and box spring with the free bonus frame she’d had delivered would completely hide the damage on the bottom of the shutters.

  With the dresser that had already been in the house, the bedroom would be complete. She could get that put together today and hopefully appease Zach. Once he saw how great it looked, he’d have faith in her. He had to. Maybe. Hopefully.

  Grrr. This man! All he did was make her insecure. Or more insecure than usual. It wasn’t like she needed much of a push to doubt herself.

  Prying open the can of fresh white paint, Gabby got to work.

  Normally she’d have the radio blasting while she painted but she didn’t want to disturb Zach. Even when he wasn’t scowling at her, he could ruin her fun.

  He’d probably enjoy knowing that.

  The thought had her shaking her head. The man didn’t deserve this beautiful new headboard she’d envisioned.

  She’d been wanting to do a project like this for her own place for months and if the situation had been different, there was a good chance these shutters would have found their way into her bedroom rather than Zach’s.

  But as it was, with her being temporarily homeless and all, it made more sense to use them for Zach’s. Besides the fact they’d be perfect with the new sea glass blue paint in his master bedroom.

  She’d definitely have to take lots of pictures of her completed design for the blog. She’d be damned if she let this great project go completely to waste on a man who would probably never appreciate it.

  The first swipe of paint across the top of the little table had the excitement growing within her, just like it always did when she took the old and turned it into something outstanding.

  The next swipe and the next showed even more how beautiful the scarred old table would become.

  Just because something was a little worn around the edges didn’t mean it stopped being useful. How could the homeowner have not seen the value in this?

  The curving shape of the legs. The piecrust detail edging the top. That it wasn’t made out of pressboard beneath veneer like so much of the furniture was nowadays. They didn’t make solid wood tables like this anymore.

  She brushed on a fairly thick coat of the paint and thanks to the wide brush she covered the table with the first coat quickly and moved on to the shutters.

  This part was therapeutic—getting closer to the end product.

  Then again, she liked the dumpster diving just as much. The thrill of the hunt. The discovery of something amazing. Taking something and turning it into something else.

  “I want adventure in the great wide somewhere . . .” She sang softly turning the shutters around so she could paint the metal brackets she’d screwed in to hold the three individual panels together.

  Turning, she reached to move the paint closer and jumped at the sudden sight of Zach in the doorway.

  “Good morning.” He looked too amused at her expense as he stood there shirtless with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

  She yanked her gaze off his bare chest. “You scared me.”

  “I scared you?” He lifted one brow. “You’re the one who came creeping in the front door at dawn. And then proceeded to bang around in here for the past half hour.”

  “I wasn’t banging.” She pouted, apparently destined to always be on this man’s bad side.

  “Only singing.” Those lips twitched again before he lifted his mug to that smart mouth of his and sipped the coffee.

  Boy, did that coffee smell good. Now that he had the door to the kitchen open she’d gotten a full whiff of a fresh brewed pot.

  As if he’d read her mind—or maybe had just seen her looking longingly at his beverage—he lifted the mug to her. “Want coffee?”

  She somehow felt like his offer was a trap. Some kind of trick. As if he’d wait for her to say yes, please and start to salivate before he said, sorry, you can’t have any.

  Finally the craving took over. Not to mention the fact she’d slept like crap last night—no surprise there—and she could use the caffeine boost.

  Gabby gathered her nerve, braced herself and said, “If that’s a sincere offer, I’d love some coffee.”

  Frowning, he pulled his mouth to one side. “Of course it’s a sincere offer. Jesus.”

  Mumbling, he turned and went back into the kitchen, letting the door shut behind him. Which meant she once again felt like an intruder as she opened the door, peeked through still not convinced this wasn’t a trick, and finally stepped inside.

  Zach faced the counter, giving her the perfect view of his wide shoulders and the well defined muscles of his back that narrowed to his waist.

  His muscles worked beneath his smooth tanned skin as he reached for a high shelf to take down a mug. “At least you didn’t fuck with my cabinets.”

  “I tried to disturb as little of your stuff as possible.”

  He turned to face her, that brow cocked high again. He didn’t comment as he handed her the mug and said, “Milk is in the fridge. Sugar in the canister on the counter.”

  So many things she could have said.

  That she was impressed he’d been home for less than twelve hours and had already stocked up on food—or at least
milk for his coffee. That she knew where the sugar was because she’d borrowed some just last week when the coffee she’d grabbed at the gas station on the way over was too strong.

  She didn’t say any of that. Instead, she said, “Thanks.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

  Zach was wrong. His not throwing her out, and his giving her coffee, was definitely something. More than she’d expected after their reunion last night.

  “You drink it black?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  He watched her, standing there with the mug in one hand, paralyzed with having him here in the space that had been solely hers for weeks.

  She finally managed a small shake of her head.

  “Yeah, didn’t think so.” He pushed off the counter and padded toward the fridge and for the first time she realized he was barefoot.

  She’d been too busy looking at his chest. And how the waist of his jeans hung just low enough for her to see that oh so sexy vee and that dusting of hair. The happy trail leading to . . .

  She drew her mind and her eyes off what had mesmerized her now that he faced the fridge, those two dimples at the bottom of his back just at the top of his butt cheeks.

  He turned back with the milk in his hand and held it over her mug, waiting for an answer to his unspoken offer.

  “Yes, please.”

  He tipped the carton and splashed milk into her mug, then returned the carton to the shelf on the fridge.

  As she stood there cradling the brimming mug, he moved back to the counter and pulled a spoon out of the drawer. He carried it and the open sugar canister to where she stood in the middle of the room.

  “How many?”

  “Two . . . and a half.”

  He leveled an amused gaze on her and scooped the white granules into her mug, even stirring it for her.

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  “You’re welcome.”

  As he turned away to drop the spoon in the sink, she managed to take her first long swallow of the coffee.