“I’ll have the men working around the clock so we can get you and your family back here as soon as possible,” Marco said kindly. He was only in his midthirties, but when he squeezed her arm in reassurance, his touch was oddly paternal. “Tomorrow morning you can come back to go through your things. The crew we hired is full-service, so they will assist with the cleaning and drying.”
“That’s a relief,” she said gratefully.
Marco lightly patted her arm. “I promise you, Ms. Breslin, everything will be taken care of. I apologize again for the inconvenience. I was not informed that the gutters were built improperly.”
She believed him. Marco had been genuinely horrified yesterday when he’d discovered the state of the ground-floor apartments. He’d already insisted she didn’t have to pay next month’s rent and had refused to budge when she’d protested.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to come home in three days, four days maximum,” Marco added before moving away.
Miranda loitered on the tidy front lawn for a moment, staring at the two-story building she’d been calling home for the past four months. White stucco made up the exterior, the tiled clay roof a pale shade of pink. There was no lobby, just an open walkway and two sets of stairs at each side of the building leading to the second-floor apartments.
The place was nothing to brag about, but it was pretty and clean, and even though the backyard was small, it was big enough that she could plant a garden back there. And at least she had a yard—the upstairs apartments got balconies, which was why Miranda had been ecstatic to land a ground-floor one.
Well, she wasn’t feeling too ecstatic anymore.
With a weary exhalation she headed to the curb where she’d parked the sedan. It was nine thirty in the morning, the sun was shining and the sky was a cloudless blue. The only hints that a storm had ravaged the area yesterday were the leftover puddles on the asphalt.
Since morning had brought with it nothing but good weather, most schools were open today, including the twins’, and she didn’t have to pick them up until three. She’d been hoping to spend the day at the apartment cleaning up, but now that Marco had sent her away, she had no idea where to go.
Back to Seth’s? Both he and Dylan had been gone when Miranda and the twins wandered into the kitchen this morning. She knew they were at the navy base doing some kind of training operation, and she kind of hoped it lasted until the wee hours of the night because she couldn’t face Seth right now. She’d barely slept last night. Rather, she’d lain there sandwiched between her kids, tossing and turning, thinking about how incredible Seth’s kisses had felt and how badly she wanted to kiss him again.
Until she figured out how to get a handle on this attraction, she needed to keep her distance from him.
She finally decided to drive into the city. She’d seen on the news that most of the inland flooding had occurred in her neighborhood, Imperial Beach, along with several of the other coastal towns in the area, but San Diego hadn’t experienced much water damage. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check on the dance school.
To her relief, the building that housed All That Dance was in perfect condition. When she wandered through the various studios, she found nothing but glossy wood floors and sparkling mirrors.
She changed into a leotard and dance shoes, deciding to get a workout in as long as she was here. Popping her iPod into the dock near the door, she queued up her favorite playlist, the one she turned to in times of stress. At the school she taught ballet and modern lyrical, but today she decompressed with straight-up hip-hop moves that left her sweaty and breathless by the time she called it quits an hour later.
That little dose of dance medicine was all she’d needed to brighten her spirits, and when she got back to Seth’s place a short while later, she was even whistling to herself as she let herself in with the key he’d given her.
The whistling died in a sharp wheeze when she entered the kitchen and found Seth at the counter. He wore black basketball shorts that hung low on his hips, a gray T-shirt, and his feet were bare.
“What are you doing home?” she asked in surprise.
The coffeemaker clicked, and Seth grabbed the pot by the handle and poured himself a cup. “We’re done for the day. Want some coffee?”
After a beat, she nodded, then accepted the mug he handed her. She blew on the hot liquid and said, “How are you done for the day? It’s barely noon.”
“Baby, I was up at four o’clock this morning and in the ocean at five for some heavy-duty underwater demolition. I’ve earned the right to call it a day.” He sipped his coffee and headed for the sliding door, an unlit cigarette in his hand. “Join me outside?”
She hesitated again.
“Jesus, Miranda. I don’t bite.”
An unwitting laugh burst out. “Yes, you do.”
His lips twitched. “Yeah, you’re right. I do bite. But only the good kind of biting.”
He looked like he was waiting for her to ask “and what’s the good kind?” but no way was she opening that door.
Holding her mug with both hands, she followed him out to the concrete patio, which housed a small round table and two plastic chairs. Although the surrounding grass was mowed, the yard was as barren as most of the house’s interior. No garden or flowers or bird feeders or any of the fun things she and the twins had put in their own yard.
“You and Dylan really don’t care much for decorating, do you?” she said wryly.
“Not really,” he replied, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He shoved a hand in his pocket and extracted a black Bic lighter. The lighter hissed as he flicked it, the tip of his cigarette glowing as he brought it to the flame.
Miranda didn’t lecture him. She wasn’t a smoker herself, but she believed in letting other people make their own mistakes. Besides, who was she to reprimand anyone about bad choices? She’d made quite a few of those in her own life.
“So what did your landlord say?” Seth sat down, exhaling a cloud of smoke in the direction opposite her.
She joined him at the table and quickly filled him in, finishing with a glum, “He said it’ll be three or four days before we can move back in.”
“You’ll stay here until then,” Seth said without delay.
She suppressed a sigh. “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll check into a hotel. Probably after I pick up the twins from school.”
“Why would you pay money to stay in a hotel when I have a perfectly good room you can use for free?” He sounded incredibly annoyed.
“Because…I don’t want to put you out,” she said feebly.
“Bullshit.”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “Fine, you want to know the real reason? I’m tired of the way you keep trying to get me into bed when I’m clearly not interested.”
A low laugh rumbled out of his chest. “You seemed pretty interested last night when we were making out on the couch.”
“It was a moment of weakness,” she admitted. “But it can’t happen again. There’s too much on my plate right now to get involved with anyone, even if it’s just a casual fling. I’m getting this dance school off the ground, getting used to a new city, trying to make a new life for me and my kids. And now our apartment got flooded and my stress levels are even higher.” She shook her head. “So if you’re offering us a place to stay in exchange for me going to bed with—”
“The offer isn’t conditional, for chrissake. I’m not asking you to screw me in exchange for room and board.” Seth’s eyes flashed. “Fuck, Miranda, what kind of asshole do you think I am?”
Guilt splashed around in her belly when she realized the wounded look on his face was genuine. God, she’d actually hurt him.
“Seth…dammit, I’m sorry.” She suddenly wished she’d just kept her mouth shut. “I don’t think you’re an asshole, and I appreciate the offer, okay? But if my kids and I are going to stay, we need to set a few ground rules.”
His hard expression relaxed, but she n
oticed he took an extra-long drag on his cigarette. “Let’s hear it.”
“No sex.” When he didn’t respond, she hurried on. “I mean it. An affair between us is a bad idea.”
“Whatever you say.”
His noncommittal tone brought a spark of irritation. “It is,” she insisted. “And not just because I don’t have the time or energy for it at the moment. I’m not cut out for casual flings. I can’t separate emotions from sex, no matter how hard I try, and I don’t want to get hurt.”
He grimaced. “Why must women always complicate the simplest things?”
She burst out laughing. “Sex is not simple. It’s the biggest complication of all, and if you don’t believe me, just look at my kids. They’re living proof of exactly how complicated sex can be.”
Seth didn’t answer.
“I won’t deny that I’m attracted to you—you know I am. But I can’t act on it. I don’t want a fling, and if you can’t promise to be a gentleman and stop trying to seduce me every other minute, I’m staying in a hotel.”
He took another pull off his cigarette, then leaned forward to snuff it out in the glass ashtray on the table. His mouth was set in a tired line as he rose from his chair, the muscles of his broad chest rippling beneath his T-shirt. The bottom of his tattoo poked out from beneath his sleeve, and the intriguing black design distracted her for a moment. She’d have pegged him as the skull-and-bones type, but she much preferred the ink he had.
Forcing herself to focus on the topic at hand, she shot him a firm look. “Can you promise me, Seth?”
Dragging a hand through his hair, he locked his gaze with hers and said, “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down for a while.” He took a step to the door, then halted. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry. Dylan’s out shopping for groceries, so don’t worry, you and the rugrats will be well fed.”
As she watched him go, a tornado of conflicting emotions swirled through her body, making her feel exhausted. It drove her nuts that she could never quite get a handle on him. One minute he was the consummate badass, trying to lure her to the dark side with his mocking words and wicked kisses. The next, he was making sure there was enough food in the fridge to feed her and her children.
Who was he, really? Was his whole rebel thing an act? No, she doubted that—Seth was too rough around the edges to be faking it. But he must have a softer side, right? He couldn’t be all thorn and no rose, could he?
Biting her bottom lip, she fixed her gaze on the tall fence separating Seth’s yard from his neighbor’s. Did it even matter whether Seth possessed a warm and gooey center beneath his crunchy exterior? She’d made it clear that she wouldn’t be getting involved with him, so there was no point in searching for the “real” Seth or prying into his psyche.
What she really ought to be figuring out was how on earth she’d be able to spend the next three or four days in close proximity with the man—without forgetting everything she’d just told him and ripping his clothes off.
* * *
To Seth’s annoyance, Miranda’s rugrats didn’t take the news well—once she informed them that they were staying with Seth for a few more days, both kids promptly burst into tears and clung to their mother like they were scared she’d be abducted by aliens if they let her out of their sight.
It made for a rather stressful dinner, this time prepared by Seth, which had earned him an amazed look from Miranda. She kept shaking her head each time she glanced at the grilled chicken and roasted potatoes on her plate, as if she couldn’t fathom that someone like him could create such a meal.
It was actually kind of insulting, evoking a prickly and defensive reaction that only got worse when Miranda swallowed her last bite of chicken and said, “Wow. That was great. I still can’t believe you cooked dinner.”
All the shit he’d gone through today was finally beginning to get to him, weighing down on his chest and bringing a bite to his tone. “I’m not some helpless case who can’t take care of himself, Miranda. I’m fully capable of cooking my own food. I also know how to do laundry and mop the floor and sew a button back on.”
Silence descended over the table.
In the seat across from him, Dylan shot him a WTF look that Seth ignored.
“I’m sorry,” Miranda said awkwardly. “I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions.”
More silence. The rugrats were sitting on either side of Miranda. Their tears had dried up, but both kids looked miserable, which stumped him because they’d known about the flood in the apartment since yesterday, so why the delayed reaction?
“Where’d you learn to cook?” Miranda prompted as she reached for the water glass on the table. She took a small sip, eyeing him over the rim.
“Not from my mom, that’s for sure,” he said gruffly. “Usually she’d already left for the theater when I got home from school, so I learned to fend for myself. Sometimes I’d watch some cheesy cooking channel to figure out what to make.”
Dylan snickered. “Oh, that’s pure gold. I can’t wait to tell the guys that you wore aprons as a kid and pretended to be Julia Child.”
He scowled at his roommate. “Do it and you won’t live to see your next birthday.”
Both of Miranda’s kids began to cry again.
Just like that. No warning, no provocation. One second they were sitting there quietly, the next they’d unleashed the waterworks.
Looking concerned, Miranda wrapped an arm around each child. “Guys, what is going on today? I know you’re upset that we can’t go home for a few days, but we’ll have fun here, I promise.”
Dylan voiced his agreement. “You’ll get to watch movies and stuff yourselves on cookies and popcorn, and you can tell everyone in your class that you’re having an extended sleepover. Think of how jealous they’ll be.”
Neither Miranda nor Dylan succeeded in calming down the twins, whose faces were red and splotchy and covered with tears and snot.
Seth resisted a groan. Christ, how was this happening? In his house? How could he have possibly thought letting Miranda and the rugrats stay here was a good idea?
Miranda murmured words of comfort, but eventually she excused herself and ushered the kids out of the room, leaving the men alone to clean up.
“I can see why you like her,” Dylan confessed, gathering everyone’s dirty plates.
“Yeah?”
“Or rather, why anyone would like her. She’s gorgeous, smart, amazing with those kids. The thing is, I don’t get why you like her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He followed his roommate to the sink. Together, they began scraping leftover food into the garbage, while Dylan took his sweet-ass time responding.
“You don’t go for chicks like Miranda,” Dylan finally said. “You only do temporary, and I hate to break it to you, bro, but that woman has permanent written all over her.”
His jaw tensed. “I know.”
“Do you? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. Let me spell it out for you. That gorgeous, smart woman out there?” Dylan gestured beyond the kitchen doorway. “She’s a mom, and she loves those kids something fierce, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he said grimly.
“And you, for some unexplained reason, have an aversion to anyone under the age of eighteen.”
“Why does everyone act like I’m auditioning for the role of those kids’ father? I’m attracted to Miranda, plain and simple. I want to sleep with her, not marry her.”
Dylan started running the plates under the tap before shoving them in the dishwasher. “Well, she ain’t gonna sleep with you,” he said bluntly. “She’s not the type for a casual fuck. Anyone can see that.”
Seth couldn’t even argue, because he knew Dylan was one-hundred percent, categorically right. Miranda herself had made that loud and clear only hours ago.
So why the hell couldn’t he bring himself to
abandon the cause? Why was he chasing after a woman who didn’t want a fling? And even if he did succeed in wearing down her defenses, she’d said so herself—she didn’t do casual. She would want more from him.
He wasn’t ready to give anyone that more. The only commitment he wanted in his life was the one he’d made to the SEALs. He was a soldier first and foremost, and he had plenty of solid ass-kicking, world-saving years left in him.
Truth was, no matter how many successful ops his squad had carried out, he still didn’t feel he’d scraped even the tip of the iceberg in terms of making a difference in this sorry world. Not that he was some tree-hugging do-gooder, but he did feel the need to be doing something worthwhile. Something that had value. Something that gave him value.
“Ugh,” Miranda’s voice came from the doorway. “I calmed them down, but they still won’t tell me what’s freaking them out so bad.” She headed for the table and began clearing the remaining items.
“You don’t have to do that,” Dylan called from the sink.
“Yes, I do.” She handed him the empty glasses, then grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser on the counter. As she wiped the table, she let out a sigh and said, “Hopefully Soph and Jase don’t cause too much trouble when I’m at work tonight. They’re acting so damn weird.”
Both men froze, exchanging panicked looks.
Seth attempted to sound casual. “You’re bartending tonight?”
As in, leaving the rugrats here with him and Dylan? The mere thought of it sent a jolt of terror through him.
“It’s Monday. I told you I’m working at the club tonight.” Her eyes narrowed in understanding. “Oh, for the love of God, you two. I’m not forcing you to babysit my kids. I have a regular babysitter who watches them on club nights. Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday—though I doubt I have to tell you that, do I? You have my schedule memorized.”
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 4-6 plus 2 Bonus Novellas Page 8