Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance

by Rachel Robinson

  “Depends,” I say, flicking my gaze back to my instruments. “Are you all in?” I ask, remembering my mother’s suggestion. “I have it on good authority that all or nothing is the way to go about anything in life. Especially in relationships.” Not that I know a hill of beans about relationships, but if Mama said it, it has to be.

  “I have it on the authority that all or nothing is the only way to go about everything in life,” he replies, tilting his chin to the view in front of us. “I’m all in, pilot.”

  I’m giddy. In my happy place with an infuriating, misunderstood man that has transformed into a sweet, interesting man. Or maybe he was only infuriating because I didn’t know him, or wasn’t open to viewing him in any other light except the one I assigned him by looks and first impression alone. How many people have I done that to in the past? Smiling, I point to his base and he cranes his neck forward to look at it.

  Instead of looking at the black buildings and fence like an eyesore that stole my memories, I see it as something that gave me something new and exciting. Tahoe. I tell him several stories about Crick’s beach. They span from when I was a kid and broke my arm jumping off a sand pile, trying to touch the sky, to when I was in high-school and the bon fires we had that would send the fire department out here every single time.

  The blue water is clear. It’s one of the few places around that isn’t polluted…yet. Tahoe’s smile vanishes and his brows pull inward. “I’m sorry about the beach. The Navy does what they want, and everything is far more complicated than I could explain. The plus side is you can come visit me there anytime you want.” It’s not a consolation prize, I can tell he knows it’s not the same just by his grimace. I make a few adjustments and edge over the water a bit more. Tahoe points. “I’m thinking of building a house over there,” he says. Tahoe has told me before how he built his house in San Diego from the ground up. He sold it when he came to Bronze Bay and I can’t imagine how sad that must have been for him. When you pour your blood sweat and tears into something—try to make it as perfect as you can, and then you’re told you can’t have that or see that anymore, it changes you inside. Well, it would be like someone telling me I had to move out of my apartment and there’s no way I’d ever want to. “I’m not sure if I should tear down the building or build something new.”

  “The Homer Property? Did you buy it? It’s been in their family for years!” I exclaim when I see what he’s pointing out, and telling me about his potential plans.

  It’s the first time he’s relaxed in the cockpit. “It’s close to work, and now that you don’t need my help anymore, I need something to do.” He waggles his hands in front of him. “I have to keep these busy. If I’m not working or,” he says, trailing off, “hanging out with you, I’ll need something to call my own.” It’s time to turn around, the sun is setting, giving everything around us a sweet golden hue. The sky is free of clouds except for a clump to our right that look like a fluffy cotton candy. Tahoe talks about several different plans. “Maybe you can help me?” he says, trying to lure me back into the conversation.

  The Homer property is an enormous chunk of land on the water. The Bed and Breakfast that was there for years, since I was a child, closed after the attacks and never reopened. The land sat with a for sale sign for some time and I assumed the city would buy it to regain waterfront property back after the base gobbled up a chunk. I don’t even want to think of the consequences when the Bronze Bay gossip gets ahold of this information. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It comes out a bit catty, but that’s not my intent. I’m mostly confused as to why something like this would strike his fancy.

  He pauses, silence, but for the wind, rustling around us. “The deal began right when I moved here. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to be official. Is it a big deal? You’re upset?”

  Shrugging off his question I explain, “It’s a big commitment, that’s all. It also gives permanent a new definition. Owning a house.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “In Bronze Bay.”

  I don’t dare look at him. “Just because I own a house doesn’t mean anything. I’ve built houses before, remember? Old ladies like jigsaw puzzles, grandpas like rummy or backgammon, I like fixing shit. Houses. It’s not a big deal.” It’s a reminder I needed.

  “I guess so. You can’t tear down that bed and breakfast though. The town will crucify you more than they already are.”

  He laughs. “I wasn’t aware I was being nailed.” The innuendo is so strong I have to squeeze my legs together. “I’ll do what I want, but I will take your considerations to heart,” he amends, folding his hand over mine. “Investing in property is practical.” If he asked Leif to make Bronze Bay his permanent home just today, then this really is an investment purchase started well before he knew me.

  Sighing, I mess with the rudder pedal and the wind causes a batch of turbulence. Tahoe grabs the straps of his seatbelt again—panicked. I grin, ignoring it as best I can. “You’re not being nailed. I am. Well, in the figurative sense. It’s not a big deal. I’ll help you. We’re going to land soon. Takeoff and landing, Tahoe.”

  His eyes widen. Even he knows the threat in those two things. He looks at me, and his gaze is so strong, I chance a look. It’s a mistake. “All or nothing, right?” he asks.

  He’s right. All would be celebrating his property purchase, and making immediate plans to select upgrades and paint colors. My immediate reaction was what everyone else is going to think about it. What it means for the relationship. What it means if it fails. Before it’s really even begun. There will be a constant reminder of the first man I’ve ever wanted. The Homer Property will no longer be the Bed and Breakfast that my Uncle Stan used to stay at when he came to visit us. It will be the place where I fall in love with the beast of a man sitting next to me. I feel it happening even now—the connection, that unquantifiable quality used to describe falling for a person. It’s a textbook case.

  I point the nose down a touch and my hangar comes into view. “You’re right. I’m sorry. All.”

  “And Caroline?” Tahoe asks, voice loud and unsteady. “Don’t fucking kill me today.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “Not today, Tyler Holiday. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to that. On the ground.”

  He doesn’t close his eyes this time. His eyes are focused like lasers on my house, the side that has the large window.

  For once, I know we’re both thinking about the same exact thing.

  Chapter Nine

  Tahoe

  “Good job at the range today,” Leif says. “With all the razzing, too. I still can’t believe you’re taking yourself off the market, dude.” I’ve tried to explain that I actually like Caroline, but my friends just don’t understand, won’t even try to understand why I would throw away my old ways for a solitary woman. Maybe if my buddies got to know the women they spend their time with, they might find a match. Might find something to ease the loneliness of our existence.

  I clear my throat as I push open the metal gate of my brand spanking new property. It looks a little like a jungle—in an overgrown state from lack of attention. The gravel driveway is lined with green trees that desperately need a trim. This is exactly what I need to keep my head in check. Lately, all I can think about is Caroline. Her laugh. Her smile. How perfect she is for me. It’s a dangerous slope, and this will be a good decompression when I’m trying to find the old me in this new place, with a new outlook. Tilting my head, I survey the three story Victorian house in front of me. “Don’t you ever get bored fucking random hoes? It’s not even a challenge anymore,” I exclaim, taking mental snapshots of the windows and doors. Almost all of them will need replacing if I keep it. “Honestly, Leif. An actual relationship is more of a challenge.” That’s quite an understatement.

  He trails behind me as we head toward the house. I pull the key ring from my pocket. It contains about twenty keys, but the front door key is marked with a red piece of tape. The rest I’ll have to figure out
on my own time. The owners were basically giving it away and didn’t even negotiate when I offered fifty thousand under the asking price. Some things didn’t change after the attacks. The real estate in Florida is still a fraction of the price of what San Diego places go for.

  Leif rattles on about the woman he had sex with the night before, and I try to blur out the names. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Caroline knows everyone and I don’t want to have to defend my friend against his whore allegations when it goes south. Like it always does. “This place is a shit hole, Tahoe,” he says as we step through the front door. “You’re crazy. What’s wrong with your apartment by the base?” Nothing except it’s not mine, and doesn’t need any type of work. It’s boring.

  “No one got anywhere being sane. You know that,” I reply. I’ve seen houses in worse shape, but I’ve seen better. The grand foyer is beautiful, with two dark wooden staircases on each side of a round marble table in the center of the room. The ceiling is a brilliant stained glass bent into an oblong shape. “Fuck, she’s right. I can’t tear it down.” Shaking my head, I run my hands through my hair. It changes my plans.

  “You were going to tear it down?” Leif asks, raising one brow. While he’s aware of my handy man capabilities, he’s been a SEAL on the east coast all of the years I was on the west coast. He never saw my house, or my work first hand.

  “Weren’t gonna’ help me with demo, then?” I ask, smirking in his direction.

  “You need a bulldozer, not a SEAL Team,” he replies, brusquely.

  Sighing, I take out my cell phone and start jotting down notes. “I was buying it for the property, I only saw the few photos they posted online. It looked like a piece of shit. My realtor said it was a project,” I explain, shrugging. “Caroline is going to be here soon,” I tell Leif.

  “And you want me to leave?” he jokes.

  My boots are noisy as I walk into the grand room to the left that overlooks the drive. “The last time you saw her you offended her so gravely I had to make her my girlfriend to make up for it.” I’m half joking, but Leif laughs like I’ve just said the funniest thing in the world.

  “Have you really not fucked her?” We’ve gone over it a thousand times. Twice this morning when he was spotting me on bench, again when I asked him to pass me a bottle of shampoo in the locker room shower, and about seven times during today’s meeting when all the guys were there.

  I glare in his direction. He puts up his palms in front of his body. “Okay, okay. I just don’t understand it. You spent every day with her for a month and you didn’t play hotdog ham pocket. It’s unreasonable.” We will always come back to this, I realize. I don’t fault him, I can’t, when I’ve been him. “You don’t even claim big swole pucker hole either. Does she not put out? Give me something.”

  Rolling my eyes, I try to think of what I could say to shut him up. “Stella.”

  Leif swallows hard. He knows about that disaster. You respect heartbreak. No questions asked. “If that happens again, I don’t know what I’ll do,” I say. “Go ahead and make fun of me for having feelings,” I edge. “I’m a giant pussy, but that’s my right. I haven’t fucked her yet because I want to make sure it’s not a mistake. She’s not a mistake. The expectations come after you’ve slept with a woman. I’m trying to do this the right way. Instead of swinging my dick, I’m handing her flowers. This is my new start.” I turn towards the bay window in the great room to find Caroline pushing her bike up the driveway. The basket on the handlebars holds a large paper bag. “That’s why they sent me here,” I add. “Because I needed something different. And as fucked as I thought it was, I think they were right.” Leif’s boots are loud as he marches up next to me, looking at her, eyes narrowed, as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

  She’s wearing a tank top and a pair of cropped overalls, hair falling over each shoulder in thick braids. Caroline looks like a fucking Playboy centerfold, country girl edition. “I see it. I do. I even understand what you’re saying about making sure you don’t blow your shit up again, but how the fuck do you know if it’s a mistake?”

  I shake my head. “I have no fucking clue.” Risk assessment is something SEALs are good with. When you can’t assess something, like a relationship, it is confusing. It’s wild, and carefree, and stunning. It takes my breath away and jolts my entire being with a foreign rush of adrenaline.

  Caroline props the bike up on the kickstand and grabs the bag. She doesn’t see us, not yet. Caroline is taking deep breaths. After a few seconds of that, she shields her eyes with one hand and glances up all three stories of the large house—taking stock. She licks her lips and smiles when she’s happy with her assessment.

  Leif swallows hard, and I meet his gaze. “Good luck with that, then,” he says, voice cracking.

  To this, I smile. “There’s no luck involved.”

  “What then?” he asks, backing away.

  “Intuition? Practice? Skill? A little bit of elbow grease?” Those things are required for any relationship, surely. I flex my biceps and wink at him. Leif winks back, keen to my joke.

  Caroline walks right into the open front door. “Tahoe?” Her small voice echoes in the large space causing a riot of emotions I’m not sure I want my buddy to see.

  I shrug at my friend, and call out, “In here.”

  Caroline stops short, startling when she sees Leif. We came together in my truck, so she wasn’t expecting to see anyone else here. “Oh, hi,” she says, not meeting Leif’s eyes. “How are you doing?” I know it’s not a question I’m supposed to answer.

  I smile at her manners at any cost. Even when she’s pissed. “How was your day?” I ask, walking up to kiss her on the cheek. She sighs a dreamy little sigh, and her breath tickles the side of my neck.

  “It was good. Just getting ready for some military men to take over my airport tomorrow. What about you? How was your day?” She meets my gaze first, and then Leif’s. “This place hasn’t changed a bit,” she adds looking around the foyer. “I love it. I wish you saw it back in its heyday.”

  My friend has the good sense to look a little embarrassed and I know whatever he says next will be either an apology or something completely inappropriate. “Listen, Caroline. I want to apologize to you for the last time we spoke. My friends and I were out of line, and uh, everything is cleared up now. Obviously,” he warbles out, looking at me and then her again. “I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I-I,” Leif trails off.

  “My friend assumed wrong,” I helpfully explain, because watching Leif make amends is about as painful as you’d expect from a man who doesn’t care about anyone except himself.

  Caroline taps her converse sneaker on the floor, and chews her bottom lip. “I want to get along with all of you guys,” she replies, voice light. “I have to be around you now, and we’re in a working relationship regardless of the things you say. Your forwardness was a shock, I admit, but I forgive you.” She goes on to tell him a story about the Bed and Breakfast to take the sting away from his embarrassing moment—erasing the awkwardness in mere seconds. It’s a trait that only some people have. It should be considered more of a skill than a trait—a finesse if you will.

  When she’s finished speaking, Leif asks a few questions, makes a joke about me and vanishes out the door. I call out to him to take my bicycle out of the truck bed before he drives home. Clearing my throat, I turn to my beautiful guest. “You’re ready for us tomorrow then?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation on anything except the crackling flame that sizzles between our bodies every moment we are together. We’re alone and as always, she’s this delicious mix of understated grace, dripping sex appeal, and tinged with that shroud of innocence that frightens me to my bones. One bone in particular, isn’t quite as scared as it is blustering hard. I readjust as slyly as possible, which isn’t very.

  Caroline blushes as she sets the bag down on the table in the center of the room, averting her gaze. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Your pilot came in today and was
checking everything out. Also, the jump master was there checking chutes and unloading a ton of gear.” Aidan. I’d forgotten he was going to be there today or I would have tried to come, too. We all have different responsibilities dependent upon our skill set. Aidan has the qualifications with regard to skydiving. And keeping his dick wet at all costs. Out of the band of merry assholes, he’s the one I trust the least with regard to anything female and mine.

  I take Caroline’s hand in mine and bring it up to examine it closer before kissing her warm palm. “How was that? He give you any issues?”

  Her gaze is like fire as she looks at my lips on her hand. “Fine. He apologized. It was just as awkward as you’d expect. The pilot was nice.”

  “How nice?” I ask, grabbing her other hand and repeating the gesture. “Not too nice?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Tyler Holiday. Are you jealous?” Her smile is beatific, and it accompanies my favorite laugh.

  “Maybe. Does that turn you on?” I fire back. “My sexy pilot who rides a bicycle.”

  She steps closer, but folds her arms across her chest. “Are you teasing a pilot who rides a bicycle?” she whispers. Her tongue sweeps across her lower lip, an unintentional nudge reminding me to take her lips and make her mine.

  I circle my hands around her arms, my fingers brushing her chest. “I would never,” I reply, grinning. “It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s status quo for you.”

  “If I can’t travel 130 miles per hour, or more, in some of our other planes, cutting through the clouds, I’d rather stop and smell the roses. On a bicycle,” she explains. “A man who is used to a fast and furious life wouldn’t understand that.” It’s easy for her to lump me into a category other than the one she’s in.

  Caroline’s cheeks flush crimson and she crosses one foot over the other. Narrowing my eyes, I run my hand up to brush the side of her face, and then finger one of her golden braids in between my fingers. “Fast and furious is behind me now. I’m turning over a new leaf.” Even super heroes need a break. Doesn’t Superman hide in his fortress of solitude for a while? Batman bunker down in his cave while the world falls apart around him? This is my equivalent, my serenity. So long as she’s with me. “How about I’m turning over a new seashell?” Grabbing her hand, I guide her to the back room, past the stairways into a dark paneled sitting room that overlooks the ocean. If you squint hard enough you can see Crick’s Beach and our base fence in the distance. Caroline turns around, neck turned up as she examines the walls, dragging a finger that leaves a trail in the dust. I don’t let go of her hand. I tell her about my plans for the house now that I’m positive it’s worth restoring.