by RC Boldt
Amusement lit his features. “With you getting your ass handed to you?”
“Yep.” Their laughter was interrupted by a familiar male voice.
“What’s the deal with not inviting me to the beach cuddling session? I’m hurt.” They turned to see Zach joining them.
“I actually have to hand over your fiancée so that you can have your own cuddle session.” Lawson ceremoniously placed Laney’s hand into Zach’s. “I must be off. A beauty by the sea awaits me.”
He winked at them before turning to head in Lee’s direction.
C
HAPTER FIFTEEN
Langley
Seventeen years old
Lackland Air Force Base, Texas
I was going to kick ass—or die—at the ripe, old age of seventeen. Right now, however, dying actually looked pretty good. Slightly appealing, even. A part of me wondered what I’d been thinking, forging Regina’s signature on documentation—or what Mr. Brooks’ brother, Joe, had been thinking, getting the right people to look the other way as it happened, in order for me to be able to officially join the Air Force.
Indoctrination was the ridiculously harsh introductory one had to endure successfully in order to move on to further training to become a combat pararescueman—or PJ, as it was commonly known. It was nothing short of brutal, but add in the fact that I was quickly becoming a threat to some of the men and it became damn near unbearable, at times. Shit, sometimes these guys made Regina look like a fairy godmother.
I’d put everything I had into readying myself as much as possible prior to getting to this point. Joe Brooks had helped me a great deal. That man, even in his fifties, maintained top notch physical fitness and had helped me train. There had been twenty-six females brought into the program for beta testing and now, after only two weeks of Indoc, we were down to seven.
Seven females—including myself.
Some dropped out because they couldn’t pass the pull up requirements. Some failed water confidence training. Others just quit out of nowhere, unexpectedly. Every time I heard that damn airhorn blow, I cringed. There had been guys I’d never thought would quit, and then bam! they were blowing that airhorn and grabbing their stuff to leave.
I refused to quit. Refused. There was no way in hell I would give up. I knew I was made of tougher stuff.
So I ignored the lewd comments from some of the guys, knowing it was an intimidation tactic. They hated that I beat their lap time in the pool, that my run time was tied with their own, or that I could do as many pull ups as them.
Others hated that I managed to maintain my part of the log during the drills where we had to carry massive fucking logs on our shoulders. Or, better yet, when I had to carry one of the guys on my back to simulate a rescue mission.
They hated that shit. With a passion. Simply because they were being carried by a woman.
The only saving grace I had was a guy by the name of Lucas Osborne. He was a fresh-faced nineteen year old who looked so out of place it wasn’t even remotely funny. He was a surfer—and looked it—a native Californian, more laid back than anyone I knew.
And he had become my only friend. He was like a shining beacon of light in the midst of a pitch black night. He didn’t give two shits about me being a female. Nope. He thought I was badass and told me I was like the sister he’d never had but always wanted. And he hadn’t been bullshitting me. He’d begun to call me ‘Sis’ so much that some of the guys started thinking that we were actually related.
Which, oddly enough, kind of helped. Because if I were Lucas Osborne’s sister, then I had to be cool.
I wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that.
Others still got pissy with me—and with Lucas—who was often either right ahead, beside, or shortly behind me during any of our training qualifications testing. All because we always dug deep, gave it our all. Hell, they should’ve made freaking Gatorade commercials about us—that’s how much we exerted ourselves. Not to mention, we sweat our asses off in that damn Texas heat.
But, after nine weeks of hell, we reached the end. We had succeeded.
Nine weeks of Indoc equaled a total of fifteen students who graduated. We’d begun with sixty-five students; thirty-nine males and twenty-six females.
In the end, we had fourteen males graduate—ready to move on to the next step of two years of Special Operations training or “Superman School”—and one female.
I’m proud to say that that one female was me.
* * *
Stop being such an antisocial asshole, she silently berated herself, standing alone at the shoreline, watching the waves crash against the beach’s sand.
It had been a knee-jerk reaction. While she’d witnessed Tate and Miller exchange vows, all the friends gathered around, including Momma K. and Miller’s mother, for a split second she’d imagined it was her wedding.
But that hadn’t been entirely what had freaked her out. What spooked her had been the face of the groom—of her husband to be—in her imaginings.
Lawson Briggs.
Immediately, her mind had flashed to an image of the two of them together, married, with Lawson saying something silly to her, making her throw her head back in loud laughter. Lawson holding her hand, linking his fingers through hers as they walked through the streets of the downtown area. Lawson kissing her with apparent love in his eyes.
Those images had made her heart race and her breath lodge in her throat. Not because she didn’t think of Lawson Briggs in that way—not because she didn’t want that with him. It had felt like a swift kick to her solar plexus upon realizing that a small part of her actually did want that.
Yet the prospect of it all, of putting herself out there and opening herself up to that again was so scary. So damn scary.
“You should know by now that being a loner never works with us,” a male voice stated, humor lacing his tone.
Not turning, the corners of her lips tipped upward. “Ah, but I’m no quitter, Briggs.”
She felt him stop at her left side, saw in her peripheral vision that he stood facing the ocean, like her, gazing at the waves gently lapping at the shoreline. Just as she was about to speak, she felt a touch at her left hand, felt his fingers thread through her own, grasping it tight.
“You’re not alone anymore, Lee.” Her head turned in surprise, but he maintained his gaze upon the ocean. She took in his profile; the straight line of his nose, his chiseled jawline, and soft, full lips. Caught up in her perusal of him, she almost missed his next words.
“You’ve got all of us now.” There was a pause. “And me. Especially me.” His hand squeezed her own affectionately and she felt the strength in his grasp, the firmness of his fingers. Glancing down at their joined hands, she watched, transfixed at the sight of his thumb as it caressed the top of her hand. Their hands, the way they looked to her, so much contrast but yet—
“They fit.” She hadn’t meant to speak the words, felt dismayed at expressing that thought out loud. It wasn’t enough, however, to detract from the mesmerizing contrast of his long, tapered fingers threaded with her own short, thin ones. At how they fit perfectly together.
“A perfect fit.” Lawson’s words made her eyes dart up to meet his own. The corner of his mouth quirked. “Funny how the laws of attraction aren’t always accurate, huh? They say that likes attract—negative to negative or positive to positive. But, the truth is, you just never really know.” He gazed out at the ocean. “Those crazy kids back there are proof of that. Laney and Zach are a prime example. But,” he turned to look at her again, “none of that matters when it comes down to it. What matters is what’s in here.” He brought their joined hands up to his chest, tapping over his heart. “What matters is what this tells you.”
Studying him curiously, she heard herself ask, “And what does yours tell you?”
He turned to face her fully, and tugged her closer, his gaze intent. Relinquishing her hand, both of his cupped her face, thumbs gently brushing along her cheek
bones.
“You should know the answer to that.” He bent his head to finish with a whisper, “Lee,” and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, merely seconds before they were bombarded by a handful of their friends.
It wouldn’t be until much later that it would dawn on her that Lawson hadn’t been merely saying her name.
He had been giving her an answer.
C
HAPTER SIXTEEN
Fett’s law: Don’t ever attempt to replicate a successful experiment.
Langley’s take: Yoda once said, “Replicate a successful experiment, you should not.” Okay, no, that was actually me who said it. But Yoda is still one wise dude.
~
“READY TO HEAD OUT?”
Lawson watched as Lee turned to him, her soft brown curls making his fingers itch to twine through them, to pull her close.
Tipping her head to the side, her chocolate brown eyes met his. “Ready.”
He held out his hand, and when she placed her own delicate one in his, his mind—and heart—seemed to echo the same thought.
A perfect fit.
Giving a gentle tug on their joined hands, pulling her closer, he dipped his head low to her ear and whispered, “You have a good time tonight?”
Watching her reaction carefully as he waited for an answer, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was hoping—praying, even—for a positive one.
When her eyes lifted to his, there was a mixture of surprise and happiness in the depths. “Yes.” She cocked her head to the side, and admitted, “I really did.” Her words were delivered with a strong undertone of wonder.
Winking at her, he said cockily, “Stick with me, Ford, and you’ll always have fun. You can take that to the bank.”
Or just stick with me. Please? He couldn’t restrain those inner thoughts. Those inner yearnings.
Because the entire evening, which they had spent witnessing and celebrating Miller and Tate’s marriage with their group of friends, had given Lawson a glimpse of what he could possibly have with Lee.
He could easily picture them together, celebrating more accomplishments, birthdays, weddings, and maybe even babies at some point. He could imagine her by his side, at the gym, dancing with him, going to dinner with him, hanging out and watching TV—he could simply picture her with him.
The real question was, could she? Did she?
“Let’s get your overnight bag and then we can head out. Because,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Uh, Laws. I don’t like surprises.” She eyed him warily.
He gave her hand a gentle, quick squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’s a good surprise. Easy peasy. Nothing to worry about.” He couldn’t restrain the excited grin spreading upon his face.
“That smile makes me very uneasy.” Pause. “You can at least give me a clue.”
“So demanding.” He flashed her a cocky grin. “One clue and one clue only. It’s twinkly.”
When she opened her mouth to protest his clue, he pressed his index finger to her lips. “Ah-ah. That’s it. One clue. Time to go say our good-byes.”
As they bid everyone a good night, Lawson felt like a kid on Christmas, nearly bouncing in excitement at the thought of bringing Lee home with him. For most guys, they were looking to get lucky. He wasn’t going to lie and say that that idea wasn’t completely appealing, because it was. However, that wasn’t part of his game plan.
He wanted more from her than her body, more than sex, and he wanted—and needed—to show her that. Show her that he could be trusted to take care of her heart. And if there was anything he’d learned from his friends’ missteps in their own relationships, it was that he needed to do something he’d never really done before.
He needed to get his hardcore wooing game on.
Yep, that’s right. Lawson Briggs needed to woo his lovely, luscious Lee.
Let the wooing begin. May the odds be in his favor … or at least way better than that one dude in that futuristic apocalyptic movie.
* * *
It’s twinkly? What the hell kind of clue was that?
She had been wracking her brain the entire ride to Lawson’s house, merely a few miles down North Fletcher Avenue from Mac and Raine’s place. When they pulled into his driveway, he parked his Toyota Four Runner beneath the stilted beach home. Exiting the SUV, he came around just as she was opening her door. Frowning at her, he shook his head.
“Lee, Lee, Lee. The gentleman always opens and closes doors.” Holding out his hand, she cautiously placed hers in it, allowing him to help her out. He reached back in for her small, overnight bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
“I can open and close doors, you know?”
He gave her a patient look. “I know that. The point isn’t that you can do it, it’s that I want to do it for you.” Closing the vehicle’s door behind her, he pressed the key fob to lock it.
As he led her up the steps of the house, his words were on a repeat loop in her mind.
I want to do it for you.
Those words felt as though they were weaving their way around somewhere else, as well. Like they were quite possibly weaving their way around her heart.
Waiting as he unlocked his door, she noticed that he paused, as if wavering in his decision to bring her back there.
“Is something wrong?”
Blowing out a long breath, he stared down at his key still in the lock of the closed door of the home. Not making eye contact, he appeared as if he were actually … nervous?
“I, uh, don’t make that much as a teacher, so … I rent this place and it’s not impressive, I know …” He trailed off.
“Laws,” she said softly. When he still hadn’t turned to her, she nudged him with her shoulder. “I don’t care about any of that.”
Finally, his eyes met hers and she was hit hard with the vulnerability that shone brightly in his light blue gaze. Lips twisting wryly, she added, “In case you didn’t hear, I live in a tiny efficiency-style home. Like, probably under a thousand square feet. So, compared to that, this,” she gestured to the front of his house, “will seem palatial.”
Giving the briefest nod, he turned the handle on the door, both of them entering the quiet, dark home, and she instantly noted the cleanliness. This was not the typical bachelor pad. Not even remotely close to it.
She watched as he removed his leather flip flops onto the mat beside the door and followed suit. Hanging up his keys on the decorative looking wooden key holder upon the wall, he waved a hand in the direction of the hallway leading to the rest of the house, tipping his head. “Ready for the grand tour?”
“Sure.” She followed him down the hall which led into an open floor plan including the kitchen, small dining area, and living room. And, again, it was all very neat, tidy. Curiously, she turned to him.
“Is it always this clean?”
Brows furrowed, he gave her an odd look before answering slowly, “Yes.”
“Huh.”
“Is that a good huh or a bad huh?” He was still watching her with an unnerving look in his eyes.
“It’s a good one. A curious one, but a good one, just the same.”
Pulling his wallet from the pocket of his pants, he tossed it onto the kitchen counter. After setting her bag on the arm of the couch, his hands slid into his pockets, slouching his tall frame against the wall.
“If you ever see my parents’ place, you’ll see why I like things neat.” His lips twisted into a rueful grin, and she could easily detect the adoration he had for his parents as he spoke. “My mom loves—and I mean loves—knick knacks. Loves decorating even though she has,” he broke off with in a small laugh, “really terrible taste in décor.” She glanced around at the walls of the beach home, which were mostly bare aside from a few carefully placed photos of what looked like Lawson and the rest of the crew.
“Yet, my dad just shakes his head, mumbles a few profanities under his breath about how gaudy it is, and goes on about his business.” The
affection in his voice spoke volumes.
That would be the point where the average person would comment with something like, Yeah, I totally know how that goes. My parents are the same way about blah, blah, blah. Except that she couldn’t comment. Couldn’t remark on any of it.
As if sensing her unease, he cleared his throat and pushed away from the wall. “Let me show you the bathroom and you can get changed.”
Picking up her bag from the couch, she followed Lawson down the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
“This is Kev’s old bedroom and, as you can see, I’m using it as storage now. His bathroom is through that door, there.” He pointed in the direction of an opened door to the left side of the room. “And, don’t worry. I totally cleaned it again after he left.”
Taking in the room and the items perched against walls, she turned to him. “Are you planning on another roommate?”
He shrugged, the fabric of the button-down shirt stretching over what she knew were firm, muscular shoulders and arms. “Not planning on it. Since I’ve started teaching the classes at the gym, it’s taken care of what a roommate would be paying.”
Bracing a hand against the doorway, she couldn’t help but watch the corded muscles in his forearm. Since when did she find forearms sexy?
Oh, that’s right. Since Lawson Briggs.
Damn this man. He was like kryptonite or something. Because it was as though her eyes were transfixed on them. Held like a tractor beam. Causing her to think about all sorts of things like having those forearms braced on either side of her or grasping them.
And, let’s be real. Neither one of those thoughts were even remotely PG rated. Hell, they weren’t really even R rated. Okay, maybe they could be classified as R rated if one didn’t consider the fact that her thoughts included neither her nor Lawson clothed. Like, at all. And, yeah, that—
“And, luckily, my landlady is super cool and let me have just my name on the lease by myself after Kev decided to move out. Obviously, I showed her my paystubs and everything now that I technically have two jobs.” He smiled, oblivious to the path her thoughts had taken, drifting off into the realm of dirty. “She told me she felt bad about me having to work two jobs to afford this place, so she actually knocked the rent down a bit.”