Small Town SEALs: The Complete Romance Collection

by Vivian Wood

Each time, she forced herself to calm down. She convinced herself that he wouldn’t do that. She remembered his promises of safety.

  Every so often she considered running. Packing her things and finding a bus to take her far, far away. She could reinvent herself and hide for the rest of her life, but she didn’t have the money to do that.

  She might be many things, but she’d never steal from him.

  She wandered aimlessly through the big house, willing herself to calm down. After all, there was nothing she could do now but wait.

  It took every ounce of willpower not to break down. She could run to Rose in the bunkhouse, or Remy who was sure to be in the main house, busy with the dude ranch. She could tell either or both of them everything. Beg them to let her stay if Walker had changed his mind.

  She’d become friendly with both women. It was miles away from actually being friends, given the magnitude of the secrets she was hiding from them. Still, she felt closer to them than she had felt to any women in a long time. They were the closest thing she’d ever had to friends.

  The women that she’d worked with had been kind to her at times. But Igor had always forced people to keep their distance from her. He’d ensured that she could never let anyone get close enough to tell them about her situation, or about the people she belonged to.

  It was the closeness of the relationships that she’d observed -- from their interactions with Walker on occasion when they’d all been together -- that kept her from running to them. These people were a family. To them, Walker would always come first. No two-bit strip club waitress was going to break those bonds of loyalty that existed between them all.

  For hours she waited for him to come home. She needed to learn her fate. But there was nothing.

  Eventually, she decided to take a nap. Sleep proved to be elusive, however. Of course. She tossed and turned, but the bed felt too big without Walker in it, too cold.

  She shivered as she considered the consequences of her actions.

  That’s when it hit her. She had absolutely no idea what she’d done wrong. She had absolutely no idea what had provoked his strong reaction.

  She’d woken up, and he’d already been gone. She’d talked to his stepmother, been practically dragged into agreeing to lunch with the woman. Surely he couldn’t be reacting like this because of that?

  Was he embarrassed because she’d so obviously been measured and found wanting by his father?

  That wasn’t her fault. He’d known everything there was to know about her and more before even proposing this arrangement…

  She tried to replay the events of the last couple of days in her mind, searching for anything that might explain it. She came up hopelessly empty.

  She must’ve missed something, but what?

  She racked her brain for clues, but nope. Not a single thing. In the end, she lay back on the bed and decided that the only thing she could do was to wait.

  11

  Walker drove around for a while before turning onto an abandoned country road. He drove as far as it would allow him to go. He parked at the camping spot where he’d come with Sawyer a couple of years back. Sawyer and Remy had been battling their own demons, clawing like hell to find their way back to each other.

  He grabbed the two beers that he’d bought on the way over. He locked his phone and wallet in the glove box, and began the short but steep hike up the canyon to Satchell Creek.

  He needed to think. He hadn’t been able to come up with a better spot to do it, so he decided to borrow Sawyer’s old brooding spot. They’d come up here together as teenagers, to camp out, drink, and get away from their father. After their mother had passed, they’d come up here to scream their frustrations to the heavens above.

  He’d only been here that once since they’d all returned stateside, but it was still familiar.

  If you were looking for one of Mama Roman’s boys in times of trouble, it was a safe bet you’d find him here. Not that anyone but the three of them knew that, and Remy of course. There wasn’t much she didn’t know about them.

  It was out of the way. It was also highly unlikely that someone would stumble upon you if they didn’t know exactly where you were. Since none of the Romans knew that he was in times of trouble though, no one came looking for him.

  He knew his brothers suspected something, but neither of them had asked. They’d learned over the years that Walker talked when he was good and ready to do it. They didn’t push him. They knew that he knew they were there if he felt the need to say anything, which was rare. So they left him be, which was exactly the way he wanted it.

  To this day he hadn’t told them everything about his fiancée’s death.

  His mind was transported back to that fateful day as he thought of all the things they didn’t know. The rainy day that had changed the course of his life.

  He remembered every single second of it like it had been yesterday. He remembered it better than he did some yesterdays, actually. Even though it had been five years since.

  He’d been so young, so fucking stubborn. He’d been home on a furlough. Walker and Jenny had been out that night to a party hosted by Jeremy, one of the jackasses he’d gone to high school with. They’d gotten home from the party late, just about midnight.

  He was pissed off and jealous. She’d been flirting with Jeremy right in front him all night. Making eyes at him, touching his arm, laughing at his immature jokes.

  In retrospect, he realized that while what he had to say had needed to be said, he'd chosen when to say it. He’d said it then, and in the way that he had, because he knew it would result in a fight.

  The rage that had coursed through his veins... he hungered for that fight. He felt pissed off and humiliated. He had wanted her to yell at him.

  She had yelled at him and then some. But then she'd gone further than that, grabbed her keys and sped away before he could stop her.

  He’d tried to stop her though, for what that may be worth. Only, she had known exactly which buttons to push, and she’d pushed them hard.

  She yelled that he was a useless piece of shit whose own mother couldn’t stand him. Said he had disgraced his family name with every breath that he took. That he didn’t deserve to be a husband, much less a father.

  Her words had stunned him into inaction. He stood in the pouring rain, watching her tail lights disappear before he could move again.

  He’d been confused by that last bit at the time. She said ‘much less a father,’ but he had assumed that she was speaking about a child that they would conceive in the future.

  You know what they say about ‘assume,’ Roman. ‘It makes an ass out of u and me.’

  And what a stupendous ass it had made of him.

  He had figured that she’d drive around for a while and come home, maybe crash at her mother’s. After an hour or so, the rain had started coming down harder and he’d started to worry.

  He was hesitant because of the hour, but he phoned her mother when Jenny didn’t pick up after his first few tries.

  It took a few rings, but her mother’s sleepy voice had eventually come through the phone. He hadn’t wasted any time.

  “Is Jenny with you?” he’d questioned, getting directly to the point.

  Her mother had seemed confused, but went to check the house anyway.

  “No, she’s not here, Walker.”

  She’d sounded dazed, but he hadn’t said anything more. He'd hung up by then, anyway. He’d run out of the house, jumped in the beat-up truck he’d been driving at the time. He sped out into the rainy night, hoping like hell he could find her.

  And find her he had. Bleeding to death on the side of the country road that she’d turned her truck over on.

  It had been a straight stretch of road. He still didn’t understand how she’d turned the truck over, but that hadn’t mattered then and it didn’t matter now.

  He’d rushed over to her, did his best to stop the bleeding before trying to pick her up as gently as he could. He'd raced t
o get her over to the nearest hospital. She’d been weak from blood loss before he’d found her; she was on the verge of passing out shortly after he’d gotten her into his truck.

  The last words she’d managed to speak nearly made him overturn his own truck. When he allowed himself to think of this part, he could clearly see her ragged, pale face, blood smeared all over her and more pumping out of her wounds. He remembered her unfocused eyes. They glazed over as she tried to find his eyes.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Jenny’s whispered confession rang so clearly in his mind. To this day it was like she was still there, right next to him.

  By the time they’d reached the hospital, it was too late. He’d called ahead and warned them that he was coming in with the victim of a car accident who was severely injured. They’d been ready and waiting as he’d screeched up to the emergency room. Still, the minutes dragged by as he sat in the waiting room, shaking.

  Eventually a solemn-looking doctor had emerged, given him a pat on the shoulder, and told him that they’d done everything in their power, but to no avail.

  He’d mourned her for a long time. Fuck, he was still mourning her.

  He hadn’t trusted Jenny for a while by the time it happened, even though he had still been planning on marrying her. He’d heard whispers every time he was home. Big Navy SEAL, little woman with a short fuse...

  He still didn’t know if she really had been pregnant. He’d never had the heart to bring it up to her parents. Since they hadn’t been married yet, the coroner hadn’t been able to tell him anything.

  Even if she really had been pregnant, he had no way of knowing if the baby was his. He’d only been home about two weeks when the accident happened, and it’d been months since the previous time he had been home.

  He let out a low growl of frustration. So many questions, fuck all for answers. All these years later, and still he had none. He had to face the fact that he would never have any.

  What he did know as an irrefutable fact though, was the role he had played in her death. And in the death of her, maybe his, child. A child whose existence he wasn’t even convinced about.

  This was the reason he hadn’t dated since her death, the reason why he was still mourning. Hell, he’d only kissed one other woman before his kiss with Ashleigh yesterday. Sure, he’d already admitted to fucking on occasion, but that was where it ended. No kissing, no intimacy, no dates.

  Yet here he was, living with Ashleigh who had her own past to live with, her own demons to fight. He’d felt her thrash at night, heard her whimper in the darkness.

  She was getting better, but he knew the stuff her nightmares were made of. Even though she’d seemed happier during the day, the nightmares were still there. Something that he knew was unlikely to ever go away -- he knew that better than anyone.

  He thought back to this morning. He thought of the conclusions that Ashleigh had clearly drawn about his being embarrassed about her past. He thought of what she had said to him, and the disturbing tone of her voice as she’d said it.

  He was ashamed that she thought that about him, truth be told.

  He didn’t feel that way at all, though. None of it was her fault.

  While there was plenty of blame and shame to go around, none of it belonged to that beautiful young woman. A woman who had been exploited for the better part of her life. Though he could see how she might think he was embarrassed...

  He realized he was an asshole for not telling her that, but he just didn’t know how to.

  He thought of how much life she’d brought to his home over the last couple of weeks. How she made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  His cock stirred as he replayed their kiss from the day before. He thought of how it had felt to have her body pressed up against his. How she’d sighed in her sleep this morning before she’d woken up, her long fiery hair fanned out across his pillow. How she slept with her leg tucked over the comforter, leading up to that delectable round ass.

  He let out a frustrated growl as he adjusted his jeans to address the issue growing in them.

  Maybe you should just give up on the jeans around her, Roman. Become one of those guys who wears only sweatpants. Or you could just get a fucking grip!

  She was supposed to be a fake girlfriend, not a real one. So he needed to toughen the fuck up and get over it. He vowed then and there to behave like the Southern gentleman his mother had raised him as. He wouldn't ever slip up with her again. He’d be a better faux husband to her that way.

  He was a disaster to anyone who got too close. Staying the hell away from her was the best thing for all concerned.

  He drained the last of his beer. He gathered the bottles and their caps and headed back to his Escalade, determined to be a better man.

  12

  A couple of days later, Ashleigh was in the kitchen trying a spin on the classic apple pie that she’d found on one of her recipe apps. She was humming as she added in some cinnamon when there was an unexpected knock on the door.

  She hadn’t even made it out of the kitchen yet when she heard The Colonel’s commanding voice.

  “Ashleigh, where are you?”

  She tugged at the edge of her shorts, as though she could will them into being longer. Marilee’s head popped around the corner and she teetered into the room, The Colonel following close behind.

  “We’re sorry to drop in unannounced, honey,” Marilee started, but The Colonel cut her off.

  “Nonsense, we’re here to talk to her about her wedding. No need to ever be sorry about that, is there, Ashleigh?”

  She looked around instinctively for Walker as she tried to hide her discomfort. But he wasn’t home from work yet, as she well knew.

  The Colonel seemed to catch her in the act, and something glinted dangerously in his eyes. Marilee smiled, trying to smooth things over.

  “Well, I suppose that’s true, but she’s baking, darling. Can’t you see? We should have called like I told you.”

  The Colonel said nothing and seemed to be waiting for her answer.

  “Uh, yeah. I’m baking, but that’s fine so long as we can stay in here,” she answered shyly. She gestured to the kitchen.

  She was outrageously uncomfortable. Especially given Walker’s reaction after their last surprise visit. But she couldn’t exactly ask them to leave. So she decided to hear them out. She'd be agreeable, but insist to run anything and everything by Walker before saying yes.

  “We’ve been thinking about your wedding, dear.”

  Ashleigh paled slightly, but busied herself with mixing the filling. She hoped that her hair would cover at least a part of her face as she let out a little noncommittal sound.

  “We’re thinking it should be a small wedding, just for family and a few close family friends. After all, you’re going to be a Roman soon, living on the Roman lands. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, right Ashleigh?”

  The Colonel examined her face carefully as she flushed, but capitulated.

  “I’ll just run it by Walker when he gets home, sir. I know he has some of his own ideas,” she managed to utter. She was still under The Colonel’s fierce glare, unable to hold his eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find him perfectly agreeable,” The Colonel assured her.

  There was an edge to his tone that made her stomach drop and bile boil up her esophagus.

  He knows. A shiver crept up her spine.

  “Do you know how many guests your parents will be inviting, honey?” Marilee asked. The Colonel leaned forward slightly. Clearly he’d had a hand in this question.

  “I don’t think they’ll be inviting anyone, ma’am.”

  Marilee raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

  “And why is that?” The Colonel asked coldly.

  “Oh, you know. Since they’re both dead... it just makes sense, is all,” she deadpanned before busying herself with rolling out the pie crust.

  The door banged open and Walker strode through, anger ro
lling off of him. It was palpable when he entered the kitchen. He saw Ashleigh in the kitchen with his father and Marilee.

  “About time you joined the conversation, Walker. We were just talking about your wedding,” The Colonel said, his tone still laced with poison.

  “And what exactly is it that you think has been decided, sir?” Walker returned with an equally cold voice.

  “A small wedding, you can choose the venue, of course. I’ll help Ashleigh scout with the girls sometime, unless you want to do it here?” Marilee interjected.

  “We haven’t decided,” Walker spat at her.

  “Well, in any event. A small affair, only family and close family friends. Ashleigh has just told us that both of her parents have passed on so they won’t be inviting any guests,” Marilee said.

  “Of course,” Walker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Ashleigh hung her head in shame. Shame that he’d caught her with his father and stepmother, discussing a wedding that wasn’t going to happen. Shame that she had no family or close friends to invite. Shame that eventually The Colonel would find out about her past -- if he hadn’t already -- and that it would ruin Walker if he did.

  And fear that if The Colonel found out, their non-relationship would be adversely affected.

  She said none of this, but tensed when Walker suddenly put his arms around her and pressed a kiss on top of her head.

  “Hello darling,” he breathed into her ear before turning to set his laptop on the kitchen counter. “Smells divine in here.”

  It took her a second to catch up. Keeping up appearances, right. She kissed his cheek before turning back to her pie.

  “I’m making a spin on an apple pie that I found today.”

  “I hardly see how an apple pie can get any better, but if anyone can do it, it’s you, Ash.” He flashed her a grin before sending a steely glance at his father.

  Marilee’s phone trilled with an incoming call. She excused herself, hurrying as fast as her heels would allow her to the living room.

  A brief, “lovely to hear from you,” could be heard before she’d obviously gone out of earshot.