My Donut Princess: The Navy SEAL Series, Novella

by Stone, Odette

  The train peeled into my station before jerking hard to a stop, throwing the person behind me against my back. The crowd spilled around me into the underground station once the doors were open. I staggered onto the street above after running up two flights of stairs and passed panhandlers, food trucks that sizzled with the smell of hot grease and overflowing garbage cans. I let out a breath of relief when I reached my destination, the Paper Pelican.

  The store was quiet with only the clerk standing at the counter. I glanced at my watch. I was a bit early, and Matt generally was a bit late. I spend an inordinate amount of time browsing through the aisle, trying to look like an avid shopper.

  Where was Matt? I checked my phone. No messages. I debated on what to do. He hated it when I called him out for being late, but the store was only open for another 30 minutes. I had deliberately picked this store for our wedding invitations, because it was two blocks away from his office. I decided, with a bit of trepidation, to send him a text.

  Me: I’m just at the Paper Pelican. Are you on your way?

  Matt: Got busy. Sorry. You’re on your own.

  A headache pinched at the base of my neck. This was the second time that Matt had stood me up at the Paper Pelican. He didn’t seem to realize that I felt paralyzed with indecision about everything that involved our wedding. I needed guidance and input from him. I couldn’t seem to organize a single detail, and our wedding loomed a mere twelve weeks away. Maybe I could bring him some invitation samples to dinner.

  Me: Where do you want to meet for dinner?

  Another long pause before he responded.

  Matt: Stuck in a meeting. Will be home late.

  He always did this. Why didn’t he care about our wedding? We had so many things to cover, and he refused to help. Didn’t he realize that I needed his help? Looking towards the counter, I felt sick.

  Why hadn’t I hired a wedding planner? Oh right, because Matt had convinced me that we’d have a lot of fun planning this wedding together. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I just needed to be decisive. I squared my shoulders and walked up to the front counter. The clerk looked annoyed. We both knew she wanted to start closing the store.

  “I’d like to order some wedding invitations.”

  She grabbed an order sheet and then stood poised with a pen. “Do you have a wedding palette color?”

  “Uh. Not yet.”

  “Do you know how many invitations you need?”

  I took a deep breath. Matt still hadn’t given me his guest list. “Perhaps between 50 and 200?”

  “Do you prefer a reply card and envelope or a reply postcard?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you know what kind of printing you like?”

  A wave of heat washed over my body. “What are my options?”

  “Letterpress, engraving, embossing, thermography, and flat printing.”

  These choices were impossible. This was precisely why I needed Matt here. What did he like? What did he want?

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know what kind of paper you want?”

  My hands curled so tight that my nails dug into my palms. “Not yet.”

  “Do you have any idea what you want your invitations to look like?”

  This was a mistake. “I should go.”

  She eyed the clock. “Okay. Would you like any samples?”

  “I’ll come back.”

  “Have a good night.”

  * * *

  I stood outside the store and scrubbed my face. Three months until the wedding. I had no idea how we would get everything planned in time. Matt was working late, but he needed to eat, right? I could go to his office, wait until his meeting was finished and then we could order take out. He worked long hours as a lawyer. He could afford to spend half an hour with me. With renewed determination, I walked towards his office building. I stood across the street and waited for the light to change. I saw him walk with purpose down the steps.

  I raised my hand and waved. “Matt!”

  The roar of the street drowned out my voice.

  He walked towards a cab. I watched as a woman got out of the cab. I couldn’t see her face, but she had long beautiful brown hair. He smiled and kissed her on the cheek before they both climbed back into the cab.

  I stood in complete shock. The light turned green, and people streamed around me. Had that really been Matt? Who was the woman?

  I swallowed hard and crossed the street, feeling my heart beat in my chest. She was probably just a client. Matt was working a business dinner. My granny used to warn me not to borrow trouble with my imagination. She used to tell me that I needed to take life as it was and stop worrying about things I had no control over.

  It took me 15 minutes before I managed to find a cab.

  “Where to lady?”

  I gave him my address and sank back into the worn seat and stared unseeing out the dirty window. How likely was it that he would kiss a female client on the cheek? If I confronted Matt about this, he would tell me that I was being insecure. I sighed.

  “That’s quite the sigh,” the driver said, “Tough day?”

  Our eyes met in the review mirror.

  “I just saw my fiancé get into a cab with another woman.”

  He gave me another glance. “What spooked you?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “What’s making you nervous?”

  I toed a dirty Kleenex on the floor with my sneaker. “He kissed her on the cheek. He stood me up and said he was busy working and then I saw him smiling at her and he kissed her on the cheek.”

  “What kind of kiss?”

  I blinked. “Uh.”

  “Was it a sexy kiss or more that French thing on both cheeks? Maybe he was trying to be sophisticated.”

  My mind replayed what I saw. Matt had put his hand on her upper arm. He had smiled at her face. And when he leaned in and kissed her, he had lingered. It had felt intimate.

  “He lingered.”

  The cab driver shook his head. “You know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it all. Trust your gut. If you saw something you didn’t like, it’s probably ten times worse than you’re imagining.”

  “Matt would never cheat on me.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He eyeballed me in the mirror. “You look too young to get married. Are you even out of high school?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’m 24.”

  “Well, you look too young to be getting married. You should be out there, having fun,” he advised. “Trust me. After you get married, the kids come. And after they arrive, your whole world changes.”

  “I guess.” Not wanting to admit that I couldn’t wait to have a baby. All my friends had important careers. I felt slightly ashamed that my only goal was to get married and start a family.

  The cab driver spoke to me. I looked up and realized that he had pulled up in front of my loft. I dug through my bag to find some cash.

  “You sure this is the right place?” he peered through the windshield around the area. It was the most up and coming neighborhood. Still mostly industrial, there were a handful of condos and lofts in the area.

  “Yeah, this is my building.”

  Matt had convinced me to buy a loft here. He had promised me that he’d help me with the renovations. He had been too busy, and the vast majority had fallen on my shoulders. I had been hopeless dealing with the decisions and the contractors, and without telling Matt, I had hired a decorator to take over the project and see it to completion. To this day, Matt still believed that I had managed to convert the old building into the loft.

  “You should be careful out here. They haven’t caught the throat slayer yet.”

  I shuddered. “Who is the throat slayer?”

  “Some serial killer creep who has been killing women. They say he chokes them to death.”

  My heart tripped. “I’m sure he isn’t out here.”

  The cabbie looked over his shoulder at me. “Just be careful, kid.”<
br />
  Chapter Two

  I jerked awake. My entire body felt tense with fear, but I had no idea why. I lifted my head, my ears straining. Something had woken me. Another noise from downstairs made my heart race. Where was my phone? With shaking limbs, I stood at my closed door and listened. Someone was downstairs and it wasn’t Matt. I had gotten up earlier in an attempt to talk to him about the wedding invitations, but he’d already been half out the door. I had returned to bed and now I was a sitting duck in my bedroom while some intruder rooted around downstairs.

  My need to hide overwhelmed me. Instead, I looked around for a weapon. My golf clubs. I gingerly pulled out my seven iron. In bare feet, I eased my bedroom door open. I peered over the glass balcony that overlooked the central living area of the loft. I couldn’t see anyone. Had I imagined those noises? I could see my cell phone charging on the counter. Never again. I would never leave my cell phone downstairs again.

  I slowly made my way towards the stairs, keeping my back pressed up against the wall. Everything was silent below. I crept down the open curved stairs. Nothing. My imagination played tricks on me. I let out a deep breath. I needed to get a grip. My therapist used to tell me that my fear was simply my false expectations appearing real. A catchy acronym to remind me that my fear of an intruder was irrational.

  Heart pounded in my throat, I walked towards the large industrial sliding door to ensure that Matt had set the alarm. My foot connected with something solid and I barely caught my balance as I tripped over it.

  Recovering, I turned around to stare at the huge black canvas duffle bag. The toilet flushed behind me from the half bath. I froze and my mind raced. I needed to hide.

  I don’t remember moving. Suddenly, I was flattened against the wall in the front walk-in closet. My breath sounded harsh. My heart raced to the point that I feared I would pass out. My vision blurred with tears.

  I strained to listen. I could hear taps running and then the bathroom door opened. Footsteps. Then nothing. Holding my breath, I peered around the corner. In front of his duffle bag, a massive man crouched on his haunches. He had unzipped it and was rifling through it. Was that his kill kit?

  My body shook. My stomach clenched rock hard. White knuckles gripped the club over my shoulder. I needed to get one clean shot to his head. Then I could run. I crept up behind him. I saw a gun. With a mangled cry, I swung my club as hard as I could. My club connected with air.

  Now I was flat on my back with my club pressed against my neck. The monster was on top of me. Pinning me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of a shocked expression and green eyes and then everything faded to black.

  * * *

  I was on my back. I opened my eyes and took in the high living room ceiling from the couch. Someone had pulled a couch throw over me. Images crashed through me. The intruder. A gun. Being flipped onto the floor.

  With a cry, I half sat up. The intruder sat in the wingback chair across from me. He stared at me without expression. The pain that compressed my chest was so intense, so all-consuming, I had to look to see if I had a knife sticking out of my chest. No blood. No knife. Just fear that was so real I could taste it.

  The man who broke into my loft looked like an intense terminator Robocop. All muscles and scariness. Would he torture me like my parents had been tortured or would he kill me quickly? I didn’t care about the money. I already decided I would give him whatever he wanted. I just didn’t want to die.

  “You passed out,” his voice was deep and rough. “Drink some tea.”

  My eyes flicked to a steaming mug on the coffee table. None of this was making sense.

  “You made tea?”

  He didn’t answer. He just sat there dwarfing my favorite chair. Black army boots. Tree trunk legs were clad in army fatigues. Herculean arms crossed over a powerful chest. A thick neck. Stubble that was almost a full beard. A strong jaw and brow. Eyes wide and green. Messy dark blond hair.

  I worked to remember what my self-defense class taught me. Keep them talking. Humanize yourself. Refer to your friends and family. Talk about yourself as a person. And whatever you do, never ask them what they’re going to do to you.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  A shocked expression flitted across his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Matt didn’t tell you.”

  “What does Matt have to do with this?” My voice shook. How did he know Matt? Had Matt hired him?

  “Matt invited me to stay here.”

  I stared back blankly as I tried to connect the dots. He wasn’t here to kill me. He knew Matt. Matt invited him to stay with us.

  “What?”

  “You obviously didn’t know about this. I should go.”

  He stood up. He was so big he was a man tree.

  “Who are you?” Still feeling woozy, I threw the blanket off my body and struggled to a sitting position.

  “My name is Jackson.” He moved with grace towards his bag.

  Jackson? This was Jackson? Matt’s childhood friend? I tried to remember what Matt had told me about Jackson but the stories were few and far between.

  I stood up on wobbling legs. “You were friends with Matt when you were kids, right?”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  I had no idea what that meant. His massive frame crouched over his duffle bag while he rearranged something. My shock was fading, and now I realized that I had just tried to kill Matt’s friend.

  “Matt invited you to stay here?”

  He didn’t look up at me. “Yes ma’am, sorry to have scared you.”

  I shut my eyes. Matt had invited this behemoth man to come and stay with us. I had no idea why he would do that, but Matt must have his reasons.

  “You can’t leave.”

  He didn’t respond. He just zipped up the bag, stood up, and swung the huge bag over his shoulder.

  Matt always accused me of not being kind to his friends. A couple of weeks ago, after an incredibly awkward dinner with two of his friends, Matt had read me the riot act. He told me I need to be nicer to his friends. He never acknowledged that his friends were rude assholes, but I had promised him that I would try harder. How would I tell Matt that I had chased Jackson off? It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with Matt.

  “You can call me Emily, and this was just a big misunderstanding,” I started, desperate to figure out how to fix this. “Just because I almost killed you doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”

  “You didn’t even come close to killing me.” He glanced at the door. He wanted to leave.

  “I almost smashed your skull.”

  “I was aware of you the moment I came out of the washroom. I just wanted to disarm you without hurting you.”

  Our eyes met. That part was true. Somehow he had managed to flip me to the floor and cushion my landing at the same time. He hadn't even winded me.

  He added. “I didn’t think you’d pass out.”

  Heat crept up my chest, my neck and then my entire face went red hot. I lifted my chin a fraction, unable to meet his eyes. “I was scared.”

  “You acted pretty brave for being scared.”

  My eyes collided with his gaze for a millisecond. I swallowed. This was a monumental cluster. How would I explain to Matt that Jackson was here but then he left? I needed him to stay.

  “I’d appreciate it if you would let me make you breakfast.”

  He held himself still for a long moment. “Unnecessary.”

  He was so unyielding. He reminded me of a solid, powerful and unbending mountain.

  Pent-up air wheezed out of my chest. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was wearing only a tank top and a pair of sleeping shorts. “I don’t want to tell Matt that I scared you off.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t scaring me off.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  I never talked like this. I was quiet and unassuming. Why I had chosen the most intimidating man to exert my cheekines
s with was beyond me.

  His eyes flickered over me. And then in an answer, he dropped the duffle bag on the floor with a heavy thud.

  “Just let me get dressed.”

  Back in my room, I caught sight of my reflection. My long copper red hair stuck up in every direction. I had a big pillow crease on the side of my face. My tank top was so thin the material was practically see through.

  I tried to remember what Matt had told me about Jackson. Something about a tree fort and another story about a schoolyard fight? Matt said that they’d grown apart because they were so different.

  That was an understatement.

  Matt was a young liberal, urban lawyer. He dressed his lanky frame in expensive suits, he could talk about wine for hours, and he had a constant, impatient vibe to him. The fierce man downstairs, with a body like a solid fortress, didn’t even seem human. His intensity made him unapproachable. He intimidated me. I could not imagine him and Matt having anything in common.

  It baffled me that Matt had invited him to stay with us. For how long? Was Jackson just passing through town?

  I squared my shoulders. If Matt wanted his friend to stay with us, I would make him feel as welcome as possible.

  My Fiancé’s Brother, Book 1 of the Navy SEAL Series, is now available on Amazon and KU.