by Kate Aster
Cass looks thoughtful. “I know. What size shoes do you wear?”
“8,” I reply.
“Think you can squeeze into a 7 _?”
“Maybe, if I pack some aspirin.”
“Perfect. I’ve got some heels that would really sex that dress up a bit.”
“I don’t want to look vampy, Cass. The wedding will be in a church, you know.” I’m already excited to see it, after looking up the historic church where it will take place. It’s right in downtown Annapolis, and Logan says the reception will be on a boat on the Chesapeake Bay. That’s a venue that’s impossible here in the distant suburbs of Dayton.
“Believe me, with that conservative neckline, you could tattoo ‘Fuck me’ on your forearm, and you’d still look like a soccer mom.”
“Thanks,” I reply dryly. I pull the dress off me and hang it back up. “Can I swing by later and pick them up?”
“I’ll just bring them when I come to dog sit tomorrow.”
Nancy was thrilled to give me the whole day off on Friday, practically doing backflips when I told her, and Kim took over my party this weekend. I am actually going to get a vacation—a real, honest-to-God vacation where I fly on a plane and stay in a hotel and eat out and see something other than my familiar Midwestern landscape.
It might throw me into shock.
I can’t wait to see that blue horizon that is always beckoning Logan to the coastline, and to watch the sunset over the Chesapeake Bay.
Or does the sun rise over it? No matter. I’ll enjoy it, either way.
“Excited?” Cass asks.
“Yes. And nervous. What if his friends hate me?”
“No one can hate you.”
I press my lips together, not completely convinced. “I haven’t been on a plane in years.”
“And now you’re doing it on someone else’s credit card.” Leave it to Cass to point that out. “I’m insanely jealous, you know. Free rent. New car. Trip to the coast. You’re freaking Cinderella.”
“Better than that. He’s a SEAL. Not a prince. I’d prefer a SEAL any day,” Kim chimes in.
Me, too, I’m thinking. But I only smile in reply.
“Have you thought about what you’ll do after he finishes up these townhomes?”
My stomach pinches. I’ve thought plenty. I know he’s going to sell them. And I really can’t stay here while he has them on the market. My furniture does nothing to show off the features of this home, and a buyer would barely even be able to see the hardwood floors under all the fur that collects on them daily.
Slipping on my shorts, I shrug. “Hopefully, I’ll hear back from the bank before then and with any luck, I’ll be slumming it in my run-down kennel till I can fix it up.” I’d be perfectly happy with that, too. Logan has certainly been a nice distraction from waiting around on the bank’s answer. But my dream of that kennel is still in the forefront of my mind.
“Maybe you can move in with him while you fix it up?” Kim suggests.
The thought had crossed my mind. “It’s too early for that.” I comment. It is too early, I say again in my head, tugging my shirt on. Neither one of us has even said the L word yet, even though I’m thinking it 24/7.
And then some.
***
I don’t think I’ve ever been as nervous as I was on that flight to Annapolis. But as we approached Baltimore-Washington International Airport, and I caught a glimpse of the stunning Chesapeake Bay, the sight of it soothed me instantaneously.
Now, with my feet firmly planted on the ground again, I can understand why Logan likes the coast so much. The waves lap against the rocks alongside us as we walk along the shoreline of the United States Naval Academy, and it’s the kind of sound I could listen to all day.
I see the uniformed men and women walking around and I try to imagine Logan in a uniform here, but I can’t. Despite the photographs I’ve seen on his wall, I have a hard time imagining him in a uniform.
We walk toward Main Street and I immediately feel at home. Annapolis might be a state capital, but it definitely has a hometown feel to it with its picturesque street lamps and historic architecture. I smile at the huge boats squeezing into a narrow inlet of water at the end of Main Street.
“That’s Ego Alley,” he tells me, pointing as we head in that direction.
“Ego Alley?”
“Yeah, they call it that because everyone brings their boats down here to show them off to the gawking tourists. Good for the boaters’ egos, you know.”
“Yeah, but how do they get them out?” I comment, wondering how a ship as big as the sailboat I’m looking at now could possibly turn around in such narrow waters.
“Sometimes with minor damage,” he laughs.
I press my side against him as we sit on a bench waiting for the water taxi that will take us to the Eastport side of Annapolis where our bed-and-breakfast is. My feet ache from playing tourist, but it’s a good kind of ache, and Logan promised me a foot rub when we get back to the room.
I’m dying to be alone with him, and wonder if we can order dinner in.
The water taxi arrives and Logan takes my hand in his steady grip as we step onto the small boat. We have the vessel to ourselves except for the captain, and I love snuggling next to Logan as we bounce along the waves. Glancing at him, I’m struck by how peaceful he looks right now, more at home than I’ve ever seen him in Newton’s Creek.
“You look good out here. Out here on the water,” I mention.
“It’s where I belong.” He says the words so easily and has no idea that they pain me deeply.
“Is that why you joined the Navy?”
He laughs unexpectedly. “No. No, actually it’s not. I had barely even seen waters like this till after I came to the Academy.”
“Then why did you join?”
He shrugs his shoulders dismissively. “My dad was so dead set on me taking over his business for him. But I just wanted to write my own ticket in life, not slide into a position that someone else had already prepared for me. I was young and had no clue how to break out on my own. So I decided I wanted to serve. I think I chose the Navy simply because it forced me to break free of them completely. There’s not much of a Navy presence around Newton’s Creek. Selfish, huh?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the most romantic of reasons.” He pulls me closer and whispers in my ear. “If I were a young officer trying to get lucky with you, I would have laid on the lines about wanting to protect my country and work for freedom and liberty and the American way of life.”
“It would have worked.” Cracking a smile, I steal a quick kiss from him. “So why the SEALs, then? That couldn’t have been to break free from your family.”
“No way. I did a little growing up in my first years as an officer, and I fell in love with the SEAL ideals. I wanted to make a difference. Be part of the elite. Challenge myself. But more than anything, I think I just loved being so focused on the mission. And once it’s in you, it’s in there for life.”
He frowns slightly, and I fear I might have hit a sore spot. “I can see why you love the water,” I say, changing the subject. “If I could just lift the Chesapeake Bay and drop it down next to Newton’s Creek, I’d be a very happy woman.”
“You really like it there?” he asks.
I’m not certain, but I almost sense disbelief in his tone. I lean back in my seat, thinking about the wide, open skies and rich farmland stretching out for miles in front of me. The peace of it. The people. The memories of my dad in every square mile. “Yeah, I do. It just seems like home to me. Being there makes me feel like I have a little piece of my family back the way it once was. I know it doesn’t make much sense.”
“Funny,” he says quietly.
“What’s funny?”
“I left Newton’s Creek to get away from my family, and you went to Newton’s Creek to recapture yours.”
I snuggle into the crook of his shoulder, wondering how it is that I c
an feel more like I’ve found my home when I’m close to him, than even when I moved to Newton’s Creek. I want to tell him, but I won’t.
I probably never will.
Chapter 20
~ ALLIE ~
In her dropped waist gown of ivory lace and English net, Bess Foster Griffon must be the most beautiful bride I’ve seen in my life.
Enchanted by the romantic image, I watch her and her new husband in his Army dress blues walk beneath an arch of sabers raised by men in uniform. Some wear Navy uniforms, and some Army, Logan points out.
“We call it a sword arch, but they call it a saber arch. It’s pretty much the same thing. You’ll want to get your camera ready for the next moment,” he adds as Bess and Tyler reach the final set of sabers and they drop in front of them, entrapping them momentarily, as the couple kisses.
Grinning, I snap a photo on my phone.
“Not for that moment,” Logan corrects. “For this one.”
The sabers rise and Bess gets swatted gently on her rear with a saber by one of the saber bearers. “Welcome to the Army, Mrs. Griffon,” he says and everyone applauds.
Taking a photo again, I find myself laughing and crying at the same time, and I don’t even know the couple. But I’m pulling for them. Something about being here, a part of these traditions, makes me feel closer to them. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be married to the military, but I’m betting this is a couple who will survive it.
Bess’s daughter walks toward a horse-drawn carriage with Bess and Tyler following her. She looks like a little angel, dressed in the purest of whites, with her flower’s girl gown cascading behind her as she piles herself into the carriage.
A second carriage picks up the wedding party and I spot Maeve and her husband among them, looking even more stunning than in the photo I saw of them. The carriages take a ride along the historic buildings that surround the traffic circle and then the horses pick up a trot as they head down Duke of Gloucester Street toward the dock where they will meet the reception boat.
“Is it my imagination, or does the whole wedding party seem to be made up of happy couples?” I comment, watching how they all seem joined at the hip.
Logan laughs, watching the horse pick up pace. “Not your imagination at all. Maeve and Jack are a couple, of course. Then there’s Lacey and Mick, and Lacey’s sister Vi and Joe—or Captain Shey to me.”
“Captain?”
“Yep. A SEAL commander. I may be out of the military, but the guy will always be Captain Shey to me. The other two couples in the party I don’t know. Must be from the groom’s side.” He gives a nod at the crowd of people headed toward Main Street. “Do you want to walk to the boat? Or we could catch a cab.”
“Let’s walk,” I say, content to tuck my arm inside the crook of his and enjoy the evening. I’m wobbly on Cass’s borrowed heels, but the sight of the stars sparkling above us as we saunter slowly down the brick-paved street is the perfect remedy for my aching toes.
Logan doesn’t seem in a rush, and neither am I, as we pick up conversation with a few of the other guests headed toward the reception.
There are so many people here who recognize Logan from his time in the Navy. Again, I try to envision him as the Lieutenant Commander he once was, wiping my mind clear of images of him in his t-shirts streaked with dirt and paint and the khaki shorts that always are stuffed with things like drywall screws or a tape measure. My eyes gaze at him in the light offered by the streetlamps and I can imagine it somehow now—him in a crisp white uniform issuing commands and taking charge. Taking risks I can’t even fathom, simply because he is proud to serve our country.
How strange it still must be for him to have separated from the Navy and the SEALs. The military is more than a job; it seems to be a way of life. And even to my untrained eyes, I can see how foreign a civilian lifestyle must seem in comparison.
By the time we reach the boat dock, Maeve swoops Logan into a hug. I would feel a hint of jealousy—she’s simply that gorgeous and I’m only human—but before I can, she tosses him aside and pulls me in for an embrace, too. “So glad you could come, Allie,” she says.
She knows my name?
“Logan has told me so much about you.”
Logan told her about me?
“This is my husband Jack.” She guides me to Jack before I can even answer her, and her husband gives me a warm hug. The guy is built from steel beneath his uniform, and I wonder if he’s a SEAL, too. If I knew anything about all those shiny emblems they wear on their uniforms, I bet I’d be able to tell. But to me, they are simply eye candy.
“Thanks so much for coming, Allie,” he says.
“I’m just so happy to be invited,” I finally answer. “Bess is such a beautiful bride and they look perfect together. And her little girl is precious.”
“She is precious, isn’t she? She’s my goddaughter, you know.” Maeve tugs me away from Logan while sending him a playful wink, and he follows close behind as she introduces me around. My head spins from trying to remember all the names, but no one seems to mind if I forget a name or two in this crowd.
“They’re so welcoming, Logan,” I comment when we’re finally able to sit down for dinner.
“It’s a good crowd. Military tends to stick together around here, and on most bases that I’ve been on.”
“It’s like a big family,” one of the other bridesmaids chimes in, leaning into our conversation as she approaches. Lacey, I think is her name, and she bobs her head lower toward us to talk. She and her husband were stationed in San Diego for a while, she tells me, and Logan and she talk fondly of the place he still calls home.
After the boat leaves the dock, I’m mesmerized by how beautiful Annapolis looks from the water in the nighttime. Logan points out the landmarks as we pass—the Capitol, the steeple of St. Mary’s, and the yacht club, unmistakable by the swarm of expensive boats docked in front of it.
We later pass the Naval Academy skyline and he shows me Bancroft Hall, and the dome of the chapel illuminated against the dark sky.
I’m enchanted by this city, unable to pull my eyes from it until I smell the crab cakes that have just been placed in front of me by a white-gloved waiter, making my mouth water. As I take my first bite, my eyes press shut as the taste of the lightly seasoned blue crab floods my taste buds.
That does it. Hell with Newton’s Creek. I’m an Annapolitan now.
Later, Logan drags me—literally—onto the dance floor. I should be completely humiliated by the spectacle I’m making of myself. I’m a horrific dancer. But I’m having too much fun to even care as I stand next to Bess’s little girl who is admirably trying to teach me the Electric Slide.
Logan pulls me close when a slow song starts, and I’m grateful to let the world slip away for a few minutes while I’m lost in his arms. For all the loud music, I can barely hear him speak. But when he holds me, I can feel his heart beat and I swear mine beats in perfect synchronicity.
After the bride tosses the bouquet, Logan whispers in my ear, “I’m dying to get you alone.” The goodbyes and good wishes we share with the people I’ve met tonight are said in the haze of champagne, and we’re on the water taxi again before I know it, snuggling close as the boat takes us toward our B&B in Eastport.
I must have staggered a little getting off the boat—I’ve always been a lightweight when it comes to champagne—because Logan lifts me into his arms and carries me the two blocks to our inn. I start to doze in his arms. But just as I do, I feel the soft bed beneath me as he sets me down.
I’m going to have a hangover tomorrow. And I don’t even care.
Chapter 21
~ ALLIE ~
The upside of being a lightweight is that I get drunk off so little, I barely feel the pain the next day.
I’m lying naked in the soft queen size bed with Logan’s arms wrapped around me and his chest at my back. He kisses my neck softly, murmuring words that have me moist with desire. I roll to my back to face him.
His smile is like morning coffee to me; I need it for the day to officially begin.
“No headache?” he asks.
I shake my head no. What I’m feeling in my skull could barely be classified as a headache, and I don’t want him holding back with me this morning.
There’s something about waking up in a cozy hotel room with him, the bed a little too small to share with a man as tall and broad-shouldered as him. I love the way I feel more of his skin against me in this bed, and I’m ready to ask him to swap his king size mattress for something smaller.
“I can barely remember getting back here last night,” I comment, images of the reception surfacing in my brain the same way champagne bubbles rise to the top. I’ve been to a few weddings, but honestly haven’t ever been to one as much fun as Bess and Tyler’s.
“You were a little tipsy.”
“I don’t remember. Did we…?” My voice trails as he grins at me.
“I’d like to think that if we did, you’d remember.”
I laugh because he’s right. “Well, I’m sober now, so I’m hoping you’ll make it up to me.”
An eyebrow raises. “Make it up to you? You’re the one who drank too much. Not me.”
“Oooh,” I say quietly, nudging him onto his back. “You’re absolutely right.” I touch my lips to his chest and plant kisses down his abs leading to where he is already hard and ready for me. “So sorry about that, Logan.”
“I’ll forgive—” His eyelids slam shut and he silences himself as my tongue touches his cock. I taste his saltiness as I trace the head with the tip of my tongue and slide it downward along the outer edge of him to his root. A curse escapes him as I take him in my mouth. I can’t take him in fully. He’s too big for that. So I tap into my creativity and stroke the base of him with my hand as I move his cock in and out of my mouth.
My eyes look upward to see his reaction. His neck is arched as he reaches his hand to my hair. He’s gentle with me, and not insistent that I even try to take him in deeper. But I’m desperate to bring him satisfaction and I ease him in a little more. I swallow as the tip of him reaches the back of my mouth and he fires off a curse, pulling me off him.