Hot SEAL, Tijuana Nights

by Cat Johnson

  Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the hot sweet liquid filling her mouth. When she opened them again it was to find Zach watching her.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Yes. So good.”

  To her surprise, he actually laughed. “Amanda’s coffee sucks.”

  She bit her lip but finally nodded. “It really does.”

  “I swear, I don’t know what she does to it,” he agreed.

  Enjoying this rare moment of camaraderie she said, “She makes it too strong. It’s like . . . ugh.”

  Look at them, talking civilly. At least for four sentences. Now they were back to awkward silence as they both sipped their coffee.

  Finally she decided she needed to acknowledge that he’d let her back in his home at all. “Thank you, for letting me finish.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “I figured it was the best chance I had for getting something to sit on. As it was I had to carry in the mattress from the garage to sleep on last night.”

  Her eyes widened as she hissed in a breath. “I’m so sorry. I forgot I didn’t have them set up the bedframe because I hadn’t painted that room yet when it was delivered.”

  She didn’t mention that she’d just slept on the floor the one night she’d stayed here before he’d caught her. She’d gotten done moving all of her stuff so late that night, the pile of comforters had been the best she could do.

  “It’s okay. It’s done. Nice mattress, by the way. Comfortable.”

  Again she watched him, looking for sarcasm or mocking but finding none.

  “There’s a one year guarantee that if you don’t like it I can return it.”

  “No, it’s good.”

  “I would have gotten you a king but I measured and the room was so small it would have left you no space—”

  “It’s fine. I’m used to way worse than an eighteen-inch thick pillow-top queen-size. I’m gonna need sheets though.”

  Gabby cringed. “Sorry. I ordered a set. They’re in the garage in the shipping box.”

  He nodded. “Nice to know some of the stuff in there is mine.”

  “Thank you for that too—letting me keep my stuff here until I get a place.”

  “Sure.”

  He certainly was agreeable today. She supposed she should by grateful. And offer to help make the place more livable for him. “I can help you hang your television back up today.”

  He shook his head. “Already done.”

  “Really? By yourself?” She spun and looked at the living room wall and there it was.

  It was so damn big she’d had to have Amanda and Jasper help her take it down so she could paint.

  “By myself.” He nodded. “I was motivated.”

  Apparently. Although his muscles did look big enough to handle the sixty-inch monster.

  Thoughts of inches and what else might be a big monster on Zach had her cheeks heating.

  She hid behind her mug and sipped.

  Did he always walk around without a shirt?

  All day long? Or just in the morning? She’d have to be sure to do all her work here early in the morning just in case.

  “So, what were you doing out there?” He tipped his chin toward the door to the garage.

  “Painting.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I saw that. And even if I hadn’t, the paint all over you would have been a big clue.”

  Gabby glanced down at herself while she touched her face. She thought she’d kept clean.

  He tapped a spot on his own elbow. Gabby glanced down and saw the white line on the back of her forearm from wrist to elbow. She must have leaned on the edge of the shutters.

  “I meant, what are you painting?” he asked, once she’d noticed and decided to ignore the paint.

  This was treacherous terrain. If she’d finished the furniture, moved it in and staged the room to look like her vision, she might have had a chance. But there was no way Zach was going to like what she’d chosen now while it was half done sitting in the garage only half-transformed.

  “Can I show you?” she asked.

  It was a long shot, but maybe, with her leading him, he would be able to see her vision.

  The likelihood of this big bad scowly-faced Navy SEAL appreciating her trash to treasure obsession was slim, but she was going to try anyway. Call her a sucker for lost causes.

  Hell, her whole career had felt like a lost cause until just recently and, aside from a few bumps, things were still going along nicely. Or would be once she finished this job and got to Tijuana to buy those tiles . . . but that was a job for another day.

  Today, her focus was on Amanda’s pessimistic brother.

  He watched her for so long she was wondering if he was going to reply to her request or not.

  Finally, he tipped his head in a nod. “Sure.”

  Surprised by his answer, in spite of her hopes, she jumped to lead him to her makeshift workshop, leaving the mug behind on the counter so she would have two hands to conduct her tour.

  He followed her through the doorway, even though on some level she still expected him to slam and lock the door behind her.

  First she went to the table. “I was thinking this would look nice next to your bed—to use as a nightstand. It’s got a drawer,” she added as extra incentive for him to like it.

  He watched her but didn’t comment.

  She continued, “The white will be a nice complement to the blue wall color.” The color she hoped he didn’t hate.

  Still he said nothing. Just stood there holding his mug and alternating between looking at her and the table.

  Maybe his silence was a good thing.

  Going with that theory, she moved to the shutters. “And these are going to be the headboard for your bed. Again, the white will match the bedside table and go nice against the walls.”

  “Where’s my grandmother’s bed?” he asked, his tone low with what could only be described as a warning.

  “Right here.” She scrambled to the opposite side of the garage.

  When she got halfway there, she realized he couldn’t see the headboard behind all the stuff from her apartment stacked in front of it.

  She glanced back. “It’s back there. I was going to put that in the guest bedroom since it’s only a full size. I’d thought you’d want a bigger mattress for your bedroom. I can move that back inside and into the guest room today if you want. It’s a beautiful old piece.”

  Lips pressed together, his only answer was a nod.

  “Okay, so um, this . . .” She moved back to her work area. “This is going to be a charging station. I was going to leave it unfinished since I think the wine logo is kind of cool but I can paint it if you want. See, you open it and plug in your devices but you don’t have to look at all the cords.”

  Gabby lifted the lid of the wooden wine box to demonstrate.

  “I just have to drill a hole in the back for the surge protector power strip cord. I already bought one. It’s got six plugs and four USB ports . . .” She watched him to see if he was following her explanation—or scowling.

  Amazingly, his face showed no expression. Wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing, Gabby decided to forge ahead.

  “I was going to put it on top of these legs and stand it in front of the outlet in the wall in the living room, by the hall doorway. But if you want it somewhere else . . .” She let the sentence trail off, wondering if he was going to give her any sort of feedback at all, and deciding if she really wanted it or not.

  “Where’s my golf ball and scorecard?” he asked.

  “Inside the hall closet in a box of accessories. Safe. I promise. Nice job, by the way. Hole-in-one. That’s impressive.”

  He looked anything but impressed with her. She drew in a breath.

  “Where’s the sofa?” he asked.

  “At the reupholsterer. It had good bones but the fabric was shot. And dated.” God she hoped he liked what she’d chosen.

  Amanda had loved it. Unfortunately, Amanda wasn’t t
he one who had to live with it.

  The more she talked the more she realized how ill advised this whole surprise decorating project had been.

  She dared to raise her gaze to him. He nodded. Not much, by way of feedback, but she’d take it.

  Feeling brave—a nod was definitely better than some of the other ways he could have responded—she gathered her courage and dared to ask, “What do you think?”

  Braced for the answer, she waited.

  Finally, he said, “I think you and Amanda were fucking insane to do this while I was away without my knowing.”

  “I know. I agree. And I’m sorry.”

  He drew in a breath. “But you’re lucky. Because I don’t hate what you’ve done.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He tipped his head toward the shutters. “You put that together yourself?”

  “Yes.” She nodded with enthusiasm. “It was really easy. I just had to screw in some brackets to hold the shutters together then paint them. The whole headboard cost under ten dollars.”

  “What?” His brows drew low.

  Uh oh. Was this good shock or bad shock? Either way, it was time to come clean about the source of his new furniture. At least partially.

  “Um, yeah. The store was getting rid of the shutters.”

  “So they had them on sale for ten bucks?” he asked.

  “Actually, they were, um, free.” She swallowed hard, hoping he’d leave it at that, with her little half-truth being the last of this discussion.

  “Why would they be free?” he asked.

  This she could answer. “Well, the bottom was all splintered. I think they must have fallen and it messed up the wood. But I just used some wood putty and sand paper, then painted them white and once they’re behind the bed you’ll never know they were damaged.”

  “Humph.” Was that lifted brow a sign he was impressed?

  Encouraged, she went on. “I saw a shutter headboard like this being sold at one of the big stores for over six hundred dollars.”

  He bobbed his head, and yes, that was approval she saw from him. Miracles never ceased.

  “So, if you approve of the direction I took, I was hoping to get most of this stuff finished and moved back inside today.”

  “All right. Let me know if you need help carrying the big stuff.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He turned and then was gone, leaving Gabby in a state of shock that soon turned to euphoria and a smile she couldn’t control.

  If she could win over Zach, she could do anything!

  ELEVEN

  “I’m waiting for my apology.”

  “Oh, are you now? And for what would I be apologizing?” Zach asked his sister as he set his dinner plate in the sink with the one hand not holding the cell phone.

  “Gabby came home from your place and said you liked what she’s doing with the decor.”

  There were so many things wrong with his sister’s statement, Zach didn’t know where to begin.

  First and foremost was that the house belonging to Amanda and her husband was not Gabby’s home. And it pissed him off to no end to see his sister being taken advantage of by her friend like this.

  He decided to say just that. “Your house is not Gabby’s home.”

  “It is for as long as I say it is. And I told you, it’s only temporary. Her building sold and the new asshole landlord doubled the rent and kicked out everyone who wouldn’t pay the increase.”

  This was all news to Zach. He knew she’d been squatting at his place, but she never told him why.

  “Didn’t she have a lease?” he asked.

  “She did, but it was up.”

  “And he gave her no notice? That’s illegal.” Zach frowned.

  “He gave her thirty days, but that’s not the point.”

  Zach considered that exactly the point. Thirty days was plenty of time for Gabby to have found another place to live—if she hadn’t been planning to squat at his house. He reverted back to his original opinion of the situation.

  Amanda continued, “The point is that you, who were so against making any changes to your house, like it.”

  Even though it was true and he did like what she’d done, he couldn’t force himself to admit it. Definitely not to his meddling sister.

  “Nope. I never said I liked it. I said I didn’t hate it.”

  Amanda snorted. “Same thing when it comes to you.”

  He narrowed his eyes, feeling like he might have been insulted, but not sure. “Whatever. The point remains you shouldn’t have done it behind my back.”

  “I’ve apologized for that.”

  Had she really? He tried to review their recent conversations. Yes, she might have actually said the words, I’m sorry, but he wasn’t in the mood to give her credit for it now.

  Gabby had apologized though. He remembered that clearly and he respected her for it. She might be a lunatic—that fact had yet to be disproved in his mind—but at least she could admit when she was wrong.

  Unlike his sister.

  “Was there a reason for this call, other than your vain hope that I’d be apologizing to you? Which isn’t going to happen, by the way.”

  “Yes, actually, there is. Have you ever driven across the Tijuana border?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes. Why?” It had been years but a person really couldn’t live in San Diego without having made at least one trip across the border.

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Why?” he asked again since she hadn’t answered him the first time. Suspicious, he added, “You’re not going.”

  “No. It’s not me.”

  “Then who?”

  “Gabby.”

  That figured. If she wasn’t causing trouble for him or his sister, she was getting into it by herself.

  He sighed, not liking the idea of her going either, in spite of the fact he had really no connection to her. “I wouldn’t call Tijuana dangerous, per se, but I wouldn’t consider it safe either. It’s a lot better now than it used to be. But either way, it’s still a foreign country. You’ve got to be smart and careful.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell her.”

  Zach shook his head. Sadly, he doubted Gabby’s ability to be either smart or careful. But what could he do? He had no say over Gabby’s life.

  But he did have something to say about how Amanda lived her life. “Just tell me you’re really not going with her and aren’t just lying to me.”

  “I’m not going. I have to work that day or I would be going and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

  He cocked a brow at her comment. “I might not be able to, but I bet your husband could.”

  Zach wasn’t above tattling to his brother-in-law if it meant keeping his sister safe.

  Amanda laughed. “Oh, Zach. You’re so funny that you believe that. Love you. Gotta go.” She disconnected before he could protest and left him shaking his head.

  He’d definitely be telling Jasper to keep an eye on his wild child sister. Zach did exactly that in a text before he carried his small bag of garbage out to the bin in the garage.

  On the way back to the kitchen, he paused to evaluate Gabby’s projects.

  To her credit, she’d stayed pretty much out of his way all day today. But before she left, she’d popped inside to give him an update.

  She’d proclaimed her painting projects not dry enough to move inside before she left for the day so he still had no table in his bedroom.

  He paused to touched one finger to the shutter and felt that the paint was now dry.

  Squatting down, he checked out the bottom, where she’d said the shutters had been damaged. He could barely see the repairs she’d made. Standing again, he evaluated the piece from the back. He could just see the outline of the small metal braces beneath a coat of paint.

  The damn girl had even painted the back of the headboard that would be against the wall. He couldn’t help but admire her diligence and work ethic—e
ven if admiration was a strange sensation for him when it came to Gabby.

  He stepped carefully around the clutter in his formerly bare garage and moved to the wine box. He lifted the lid.

  She’d set the power strip inside and drilled a round hole in the back just big enough for the plug to slip through.

  He would have never in a million years pegged Gabby as a woman who could use power tools. Or as one who would ever want to. But she had proven she was both.

  Letting the box’s lid close he turned for the kitchen door.

  Inside, even with a cold beer open on the counter waiting for him to drink it, something had him instead opening a new search browser on his cell phone and punching in her name.

  Her blog came up in the search results. He hit the link and the site loaded.

  There was a lot there. Apparently she liked to write as much as she liked to talk. He scrolled through a few pictures and then saw a menu of recent posts.

  The one titled Dumpster Diving had him clicking to open it and there was a picture of Gabby standing proudly in front of a dumpster to take a selfie with a stack of wooden shutters. The caption read, Today’s find.

  “I’ll be damned.” Zach let out a soft laugh.

  Even though she’d led him to believe the store had given her the damaged shutters, the little wench had made his headboard out of literal trash she’d found in the dumpster behind the store.

  Rather than being mad at her for skirting the truth, he couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

  She had balls. He’d give her that.

  He was starting to see why she and his sister had been close for so many years. Amanda would have no problem doing something as brazen. Although, as far as he knew, Amanda didn’t have the vision or the skills to turn garbage into home décor that didn’t look like she’d fished it out of a dumpster.

  Suddenly, he didn’t want to wait to see how it would all look inside.

  Heading back out to the garage he grabbed the table and the charger box and carried them both inside. He went right back out for the headboard and then made another trip for his toolbox.

  Half an hour later, he evaluated the headboard he’d bolted to the bedframe and the table next to it.

  Gabby had located the sheets she’d bought and though she’d wanted to put them on the bed for him, he’d told her he would take care of it. She’d chosen a crisp gray and white pinstripe design that looked pretty good with the new white comforter and the pale blue walls.