Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance

by Rachel Robinson

  “His name is Tyler, he works at the new base off Island Run Trail and,” Shirley says, jerking her head in his direction, “he’s single.”

  I sigh. “Of course he is. Look at him. He doesn’t look like the type of guy that keeps a woman. Not one, at least.”

  “You’re such a sorry sport, Caroline. One day you’ll realize what you’re missing,” Shirley says, her lip turning up in a snarl. “I’m going to ask him out,” she finishes, her chin high.

  “You should. He’s perfect for you,” I return.

  My mom nudges me with her shoulder. “Why don’t you ask him out instead?”

  Shirley laughs and I turn to look at my mother dearest. “Not you too!” I nearly shout. “Come on. I can’t catch a break.”

  Beside me, Caleb appears his dirty apron hanging over one arm. “Everyone thinks you should go on a date then, huh?” he asks, his voice low, stance wide. “I tried!” He exclaims.

  “Oh, Caleb, honey. It’s not you. It’s her,” Shirley says, turning her charm onto the short order cook. I have to give her credit. She’s a horny chameleon. I’m used to everyone discussing my lack of relationship status. That’s nothing new. If it gives them something innocent to talk about, so be it.

  Mama saves me by making small talk with Caleb about his upcoming shifts, and Shirley clears one of her other tables. Tyler, I think. My best friend doesn’t get a chance to ask him out. He stands and his sheer size is overwhelming. More than one person turns to look in his direction.

  He’s at least 6’2 and his clothes pull against every chiseled muscle on his body. No, he’s definitely not a Bronze Bay man. This man-beast is in a league all of his own. His hair is dark, and the scruff on his face says he doesn’t give a shit, and he knows it looks hot. He has big blue eyes, a jawline that is magazine worthy, and a straight angled nose. In other words, he must be a horrible person because his exterior is pretty damn close to perfection.

  Tyler’s boots are heavy against the tile as he makes his way to the front door. Before he opens it, he glances at me long enough to give me a smug, crooked grin. No teeth.

  The bell bangs on the glass door as he leaves. I swallow hard.

  “Oh, my God. He totally wants you,” Shirley says, witnessing his barely there grin.

  I raise one brow. “Right. Of course he does,” the sarcasm dripping as I speak. Changing my tone and being serious, I say, “I bet you get that date the next time he comes in.”

  Shirley is swearing under her breath as she goes to clean the beasts table.

  Taking off my apron, I put it in the basket under the counter labeled with my name. I grab my messenger bag, kiss my mama and throw a quick goodbye to my disgruntled bestie.

  Once outside, my eyes turn to the sky. Hopping on my bicycle, I ride, half distracted by clouds to the airport. The roads are never too busy here and we are close enough to the coast you can always smell the saltwater no matter where you are.

  Someone honks, but I ignore it.

  I’m almost to my happy place.

  Chapter Two

  Tahoe

  They made me come here. It was under the pretense that only my particular expertise could serve this command. In reality, my bosses sent me here because I slipped up. Overworked, and dog tired, my mistake got a brother shot. As if living with that knowledge isn’t enough, I’m now forced to associate with the small-town folks of Bronze Bay that look at me like I’m the statue of David. Or a pariah, I can’t really be sure.

  Relax, they told me—focus on making sure everything runs smoothly. Work-out, keep my aim sharp, keep my ears open and my eyes wide. Terrorists lurk everywhere and I know this first hand. It’s why I’m a heap of muscle and mess. It’s why all of my brothers in arms are busy hunting people down. It’s why I’m burnt out, why I haven’t had a true life outside of work in years. A decade?

  My new motto is three words. Keep it simple. It should be easy in a place like this. No one moves very fast and it almost seems life exists separate from rest of the world here. The people are friendly, the beaches are nice, and the women are rabid for fresh meat. I went to the solitary bar in town last weekend and could have taken home at least five different women. I didn’t, though. It wasn’t that kind of night. I’m still getting the lay of the land, trying to figure out where I fit into the scheme of things, absorbing the details most gloss over. This weekend I’ll go back for other, more selfish reasons.

  After glancing over a report about an incident back home in San Diego, I head into the conference room for the daily meeting. It’s a run down on who is doing what and who is allowed where, a never-ending list of small tasks that need to be accomplished. With a base on this side of the Gulf of Mexico and another on the East coast of Florida we’ve been moving boats all over the place so we can be as fast acting as possible. Pensacola took a huge hit in the attacks and those in charge felt it was safer to have a new base for us to operate out of rather than try to move in on the destruction. Knock on wood, it’s been slow days at the office since we got here.

  “I want to secure an airport,” Leif says, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the long table.

  “For jumping?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Or?”

  “Yeah, for jumping, and it would be nice to have something closer if we need to get somewhere quicker. The main airfield is quite a distance away. We always planned on building an airport here.”

  I pick at my thumb nail. “We aren’t on the first call list. We’re not going anywhere fast, bro. I can see having something for jumping though. That would be fun.” I nod, thinking about skydiving. There’s little else that thrills in the same way. Wind hitting my body, the black of night encasing me, my very existence teetering in my hands only to save by the pull of a string.

  “The May Airport? Down on the other side of town?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the nail.

  “That’s the only one,” Leif says, sliding a printout across the table. “Our budget was upped again so buying it outright won’t be a problem. This will be much easier than building one.”

  “Hasn’t that been in their family for generations? What makes you think they’ll sell?”

  Leif opens his oversized arms to the sides. “Look around. If the price is right these people will do anything.” He fails to realize the people of Bronze Bay love their lives and wouldn’t change a thing. I haven’t been here long, but something like pride in your family establishment is an easy understanding.

  I nod, shrugging my shoulders. “Sure. Okay. I’ll feel him out. I can head over after this, I brought the truck today.” Honestly, most days it’s easier to bike in to work, but I bought an old jalopy of a truck when I first arrived. I’d sold all of my possessions before I moved across the country. What I didn’t have time to sell, I gave away to my friends. “Anything else? I read the reports about the incident in San Diego,” I say, changing the subject.

  Leif shakes his head and tells me a few other tidbits of information he’s gleaned and we start wrapping the meeting.

  “Call me and let me know what you find out about airport,” Leif calls at my back.

  I throw up a hand, and nod. “Diving tomorrow?” I toss back on second thought.

  “Yes. Then the range. Check out the weapons you’ll want before you get in.”

  A day full of my favorite things. Bonus points for not doing them while my life is on the line.

  ****

  My truck doesn’t start when I turn the key. Hopping out of the tattered cab, I pop the hood and mess around with the spark plugs I know are on their last leg. Sure enough, a little twisting and the truck rumbles to life. It will be a fun weekend project—something to keep my hands and mind busy. The mundane. Something I’ve only had in insignificant doses over the last decade.

  There’s no need for GPS or navigation in Bronze Bay. There’s the water side and inland. Now that we’re here, we’ve taken up a huge chunk of the water side, securing government water for our boats and our diving. The beaches ar
e fenced off on either side of our compound. I’m driving inland now, toward May Airport. There’s tall grass growing on the sides of the roads and the houses are few and far between. I turn down an unpaved road that’s half seashells and half dusty rock pieces. The only indication this is where I need to be is the large rectangular sign proclaiming this as May Airport. The font is square and large in a bright shade of red. It reminds me of something you’d see in an antique shop.

  The landing strip comes into view as does a cluster of airplane hangars, one larger than the others. I pull into a spot that looks as if other vehicles have parked before and hop out into a cloud of salty dust. I traded my uniform for my standard black tee and jeans before I left work. Not that it makes me any less conspicuous. The word outsider might as well be tattooed on my forehead. The residents know I’m not the standard fare newcomer. I’m an intruder.

  A loud engine roars from somewhere in the general vicinity breaking up the silence.

  “Can I help you?” A man calls over the noise.

  I turn toward the voice and see an older man wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt. I put up one hand in a wave. “Hi sir, I was hoping to speak to the owner,” I say, approaching slowly.

  The man perches both hands on her hips. “Depends on which one you’re looking for and why, but I suppose I fit that description,” he says, grinning while extending his hand in my direction. I don’t miss the way his eyes scan my body from my head to my toe. “What can I help you with? We don’t get visitors very often.”

  What he means is he doesn’t get visitors like me. Shaking his hand, I ask if there’s somewhere we can talk with a little less noise. He tells me it’s an airport and I should expect some degree of noise at all times. I laugh, grin widely, and pretend not to be annoyed. It probably doesn’t work well. I’ve been told my smile resembles The Joker, Heath Ledger style.

  “Let’s head to the office,” Mr. May inclines his head to the large hangar beside him. I follow warily, taking note of everything around me. Running an airport has to be tiresome, but I imagine the only people using it are the extremely wealthy or the hobbyists. The light metal exterior of the hangar belies the contents. After I walk through the door I’m met with air conditioning. That’s the first surprise. The second is that it’s actually really nice inside. There’s an office to the right and a spiral staircase to the left of the office. A door straight in the back ostensibly leads to the portion of the hangar where actual aircrafts are stored. “Right through here, Mr.,” May pauses, waiting for me to offer my name.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Tyler. Tyler Holiday. It’s nice to meet you,” I say, walking into the office. May leaves the door open and walks to the other side of the room where a small mini fridge buzzes in the corner.

  “Can I offer you something to drink, Tyler Holiday?” I don’t want anything, but rejecting hospitality is bad form.

  “Sure. Please,” I say, nodding to the bottle of iced tea in his left hand. A can of Bud Light is in his right. After he hands me the tea, he cracks the beer and downs half. “I’m here on behalf of The Bronze Bay Naval Compound,” I edge.

  He nods. “Of course you are, son.” He lowers his chin while staring at me. “The question is what are you doing at my airport?”

  He knows. He must have anticipated something like this. “We were hoping to inquire about the procurement of your fine facilities,” I say, setting the bottle down on a table next to me. I don’t take my eyes off his face, eager to glean any tells he may give. Nothing. “We are prepared to pay you handsomely.”

  May laughs loudly, bringing one hand to his chest, covering a smudge of grease marring his tropical ensemble. “I thought you might say something like that. You know this land has been in my family for generations, right? I’m sure you’ve done your research so that means you’re plumb crazy.” He’s still shaking his head, disbelief washing every feature. I stay silent, as I know he’s not finished. “Rent. I figured you’d come here and want to rent some time or perhaps even a hangar to store a plane or two. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think you’d come here asking to purchase my crown jewel.”

  I told Leif. I knew this would be the outcome. My goal now is to figure out how to sway his mind. “I can assure you, if you sell May Airport to our command, the memory will live on. We won’t change the name,” I say, grasping at straws.

  “Sell the airport?” A woman screeches from behind us.

  Turning quickly, I see the person from which the squeal came from. “Caroline, honey. It’s fine. I’ve got this under control. Mr. Holiday, may I introduce you to my daughter. She’s half owner of the business and property you’re wishing to purchase.” His laughter trips his words and I’m left feeling like I’m lacking armor and weapons while lying in wait for a killing blow.

  “Did I hear you right?” Caroline says, leaning against the doorway, one tan leg propped on the other like a flamingo. Her shorts are short and her dirty t-shirt is knotted, exposing a sliver of sun kissed stomach. Several strands of golden blonde hair that escaped her pony tail fall into her face. “My airport? First you take over my favorite beach. The very one where I took my first steps and block it off to the public, but now you want my airport? I don’t think so. Take your beast body and your handsome offer and leave. There’s not a fiery chance in hell you’ll get your mitts on my family’s airport.” Her face is red, and she’s leaning forward now, like a lion about to pounce on prey.

  I hold my hands out in front of me. May laughs, and a vision of a torture device pops into my mind. I hear him drain the rest of his beer. “Sure you didn’t mean handsome body and beast offer? Cause that would make a lot more sense. No need for the hostile measures. I came here in peace,” I reply, using a calming voice.

  “Peace?” Caroline nearly yells, stepping toward me, one finger extended. “You represent everything except peace. You’re not even allowed to say that word. Who are you exactly? One of those SEALs?”

  There’s no need to lie. “Yes. I’m one of those SEALs. You know, the men that protect your freedom, your nation, the ones that keep the peace,” I say, emphasizing the last word. “We’re here to better protect America, Caroline.” At the mention of her name, she calms, swallowing hard. “I came here to merely ask about negotiations. We need facilities such as yours to train. Skydiving and what not. Skills that help us do our job. That means peace for you.”

  She backs down immediately and her eyes change. For the first time, she looks at me instead of what I represent and she’s affected. Her huge, crystal blue eyes land on mine. Yes. Familiar territory. I flash her a small grin, teasing my bottom lip with my top teeth—a small gesture the average person wouldn’t pick up on, but something someone attracted to me will zone in on quickly. “Negotiations. Fine,” she says. Taking a huge, visible breath, she walks into the office and leans against the wall to the right.

  Caroline blows a strand of hair off her face. Recognition dawns. “You work at the diner,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

  “Mrs. May owns the diner and Caroline helps out. This is her primary focus though. She’s building a right fine apartment upstairs. I’m retiring!” May exclaims, rummaging the fridge for another beer. This town is smaller than I ever imagined. Everything and every person is interconnected in some form. Lesson learned.

  Caroline rolls her eyes in her father’s direction. “I’m taking it over willingly. It’s my dream,” she says quietly, like her dream should be silenced. “I’m the main pilot these days. Daddy, I mean, Mr. May is a master engineer and mechanic. Between the two of us we can fix anything.” May takes this as his cue to exit the office.

  “It’s a fine dream,” I reply, standing straighter. “Perhaps I can help make it happen quicker?” Leif can suck my cock. I know what I’m capable of getting from these people. I also know how I’m going to get it.

  Her arms folded across her chest she widens her eyes. “I’m waiting,” she exclaims.

  “I’m prepared to rent the entire airport for one day
, every week. This is what we’ll pay you annually,” I say, grabbing a pen from the small desk, I scribble a number on the sheet Leif gave me with their information. The math was done in my head and double checked in mere seconds. It’s one of my gifts. Keeping the paper in my hands, I show her the number, holding it a foot from her face. “Deal.” I say, instead of asking.

  Her eyes widen as she takes in the offer and all the zeros following it. “What if it’s no deal?” she asks, her eyes finally flicking up to meet mine.

  This moment is important. It’s more important than anything money can buy. I run my eyes down her body, slowly, and all the way back up. Her chest heaves as her breaths come quicker—her cheeks flush, and huge doe eyes belie an innocence I haven’t seen in a long time. Her gaze fixates on my mouth. I lick my lips.

  I shrug my shoulders up and down once. “Then I’ll be here every day trying to get what I want. It’s up to you.”

  Chapter Three

  Caroline

  He’s waiting outside the diner for me to finish my shift, tossing an apple from hand to hand like a bored, annoying twelve-year-old. Every day this week he’s been standing out there waiting for me. I even tried to switch my shifts around to catch him off guard, but that persistent bastard figured it out. Mama swears she didn’t tell him anything and Shirley uses her big smile whenever I ask her what the ogre is doing peeping in our windows. Something she does both when she’s telling the truth and lying, so I can’t be sure what is going on. The only reason I haven’t given him an answer about using my airport is because I honestly don’t know if it’s the right decision. What if it’s the first step in total domination? The whole saying “give someone an inch and they take a mile” scares me.