SEAL's Technique Box Set (A Navy SEAL Romance)

by Claire Adams

  But his well-being was Amber’s problem now.

  “Juliebean,” he croaked, nodding to my coffee. “For me?”

  “Nope,” I said, louder than was necessary. Scott winced. “Time to take your shit and get out, loverboy. Tell Ambi I said not to bother calling.”

  He repeated his infuriating mantra from the night before. “Don’t be like that now, Julie. You’re my one and only, Juliebean. Come give me a kiss. I’ll make it all up to you.”

  God, how had I thought that he was charming for so long? I gagged a little at him now.

  “I hate being called Juliebean, FYI. And you’re out of luck, asshole. I know about you and Amber. If either of you ever step into this house again, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “That’s bullshit, babe. I live here. Amber and I are just friends.”

  “No, you used to live here,” I corrected him. “And I saw her text; she loves you baby.”

  “It’s nothing, Jules.” His face betrayed him; it wasn’t nothing. Not that I’d thought for one second that it was. “Christ, my head. Could you get me some water and some aspirin, then we’ll talk?”

  “Nope. Done talking. Done getting you shit. It’s all over, Scott. Time for you to leave.”

  “What?” he yelped, only now just waking up fully.

  I was over talking to him, and I wasn’t joking about that. I had tried it, though. Now it was over to plan B. I marched out of the bedroom and heard him scurrying after me. One by one, I started throwing his boxes out onto my front lawn to get him to leave.

  He rushed past me onto the lawn, a loud, “FUUUUUUUCK,” ripping from his chest as he did so. He frantically started digging through his boxes, looking for something while he flipped out on me, calling me everything from a motherfucking bitch to a thief.

  Although I was curious about what he was looking for, I was also disgusted by him. All disheveled, still dirty from the night before, knees soaked through from the wet grass, he looked nothing if not pathetic.

  Scott also hadn’t said sorry or anything close to it once. Not about anything. All he cared about was his stupid stuff, not me breaking up with him at all. The last of his boxes landed with a thud next to one of the others, and I slammed the door shut, not able to believe that I’d gotten into a situation where I lived with that.

  With a brief reminder to have the locks changed as soon as Monday rolled around, I went for the ice cream in my freezer, flipped the A/C on high in my living room, and spent the rest of the day swaddled in a stolen airplane blanket while I lost myself in the lives of my onscreen friends.

  Usually, I went out every night on the weekend and several times during the week, but even though it was only Saturday, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house that night. I tried to immerse myself in my show, but as hard as I tried, images of Scott and Amber kept popping up in my head.

  Images of Scott with Amber.

  Gah! My best friend with my boyfriend.

  Ex-boyfriend, but whatever.

  While I’d been worrying about Scott, and confiding in Amber, they’d both been busy stabbing me in the back. The betrayal felt like a stab right to my heart. With a hot-to-the-point-of-melting arrow. What made it impossibly worse was the fact that the one person I counted on to talk stuff like this through with was a party to it.

  I didn’t care how rocky things had been with Scott at the end there, how could they both have gone behind my back like this?

  It sucked. It was awful. I hated it, and I felt so damn powerless it hurt.

  Chapter 13

  Pacey

  Saturday was prime rib night at Rennie’s. It was also usually prime hunting grounds for beautiful women once the dance music started. They were either dragged out there by their boyfriends who wanted to watch sports, or joining friends whose boyfriends dragged them there for sports.

  Either way, Rennie’s was usually great for a casual hookup on Saturdays. Like always, there were plenty of takers. Some of whom were already giving me the eye, and I’d been propositioned to dance twice.

  I could do it, sure. But I didn’t dance much. There was also one other problem—the usual hookup seemed to have lost its appeal. I wasn’t in the least interested in what Rennie’s had to offer, beyond the prime rib, of course.

  My house was still empty, and I still didn’t want to go home alone, but none of the women in here captured my interest like Juliana had. None of them were quite as sexy as she was, not even the brunette that was currently shaking her ass like a porn star on the tiny brick dance floor, wearing a skirt that should’ve been classified as a belt.

  The reason for my sudden lack of interest, the way I figured it, was that fucking kiss. Kissing Juliana was like nothing else. Not even kissing May had been like that. Kissing Juliana had consumed me and sent a bolt of lightning straight to my dick.

  And now it wanted only her. Sadly, it seemed that she was the only woman I’d managed to find in this town who felt the way I did about cheating while in a relationship, and I respected that. Contrary to my more recent proclivities, when I was in a relationship, I was a one-women man. Loyal and faithful to a tee. No exceptions. I could have been bombarded by a horde of supermodels, and I would come out of it not being able to tell anyone what the hottest one even looked like.

  As soon as I committed, that was it. I was all in. With bells on.

  The only reason I went after taken women now was because I didn’t want to be committed, and with them, I was safe. They couldn’t and didn’t expect anything more. It was great. Perfect, even.

  Except when it wasn’t. And tonight, it wasn’t.

  My dick wouldn’t rouse for anyone. Not for the cocktail waitress who bent over to clean up a glass that fell off her tray and broke right in front of me; I helped her clean it up like a kind old man instead.

  Not for the blonde on the other end of the bar who sent me a beer; I bought her a glass of the white wine that she was drinking in return and raised my glass to her from my end when it was delivered.

  No one.

  My cock had turned against me. The fucker had a one-track mind, and it was on Juliana so firmly it might as well have been planted on her. Or in her, for that matter.

  Fuck, I wished.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to happen while she was with that prick. Just as I was musing about how much of an asshole the druggie was, a familiar voice slurred from somewhere behind me.

  Sure enough, when I turned around, there he was.

  Scott the prick.

  The more interesting development was that he had a girl on his arm who was most decidedly not Juliana. Her hair was sprayed to within an inch of its life, and she was hanging on to Scott like she would never let him go, her head on his shoulder and her hand on his butt.

  I was more excited about this development that I should’ve been, because it meant that if Juliana wasn’t a free agent already, she would be very, very soon. Small towns were probably where the expression rumor mill had come from. There was no way she wasn’t finding out about this.

  The last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt, but I had a feeling that she would get hurt more the longer she stayed with him. With guys like him, hurt was inevitable.

  Yeah, and what about you?

  I shook off the ominous little voice in my head. I was trying to bag her, not marry her. I would be upfront about it, same as always. I’d never hurt her because I wouldn’t get close enough to her to do it.

  Scott had his arm around hairspray’s waist, his bloodshot eyes on her cleavage. Who the hell did he think he was? Parading that chick around when he had someone waiting for him at home? Juliana, she was his first fucking prize, and he was out with that?

  He wasn’t just an asshole; he was a fucking stupid one at that.

  I watched Scott like a hawk—not that it was necessary. As I sipped my beer, the douchebag made quite the spectacle of himself, drawing the attention of half the bar with his antics.

  He rang the bell abov
e the bar, loudly proclaiming that he was buying everyone drinks to celebrate—what he was celebrating, I never got to find out, because the bartender immediately insisted that he get off the stool he was standing on and shut the fuck up, in his words.

  It didn’t look like it was the first time Scott had tried that stunt, because one of the guys in the back yelled, “Boo! Last time, we ended up paying for it ourselves.”

  A couple of other regulars nodded and went back to watching the flat-screen televisions. After that, Scott stumbled to the bathroom with hairspray hot on his heels, giggling like a drunken maniac. When they emerged, Scott was rubbing under his nostrils, and it was quite obvious that he’d been snorting something there.

  He was either ignoring me, or he’d been too fucked up that night to remember me. Either one worked for me.

  What didn’t work for me was the way he was treating Juliana. My blood was boiling to volcanic levels that he would do this to her, embarrass her like this, and this publicly, no less.

  But I behaved myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been itching to punch someone this badly. If I thought for one second that Juliana would’ve appreciated my defending her honor, I would’ve knocked him two weeks from Sunday, but somewhere deep inside, I knew that she wouldn’t. Not over this.

  Not yet.

  Then he buried his face between the brunette’s fake tits and made an obscene noise, and I saw red spots clouding my vision. I tensed, fisting my beer so hard that I was afraid the glass was going to shatter.

  Releasing my grip some, I kept watching Scott from the corner of my eye. He’d pulled the girl onto his lap and was slathering her neck in what appeared to be extremely wet kisses, his hands skirting the undersides of her breasts. She was sighing, eyes closed. It was fucking disgusting to watch.

  The bartender rolled his eyes and shook his head, but no one put a stop to the peepshow Scott was putting on. I turned my back on him to keep from puking, slammed a couple of bills down on the bar, and decided to call it a night for the sake of my sanity and sense of justice.

  I was draining the last dregs of my beer when the door burst open, and a shriek sounded over the music. My thoughts immediately went to Juliana, but I relaxed when my instincts told me it wasn’t her. Turning in my seat, I found Amber standing a ways behind me, gaping at Scott with fury in her eyes and a tiny shaking fist raised.

  Not Juliana, then: the best friend that I was pretty sure her boyfriend was fucking. Scott jumped up at her shriek, hairspray yelping from the sudden movement and wobbling dangerously on her heels. He had a very obvious hard-on, the sight of which made me want to barf in my mouth.

  Scott’s red eyes were wide, staring at Amber slack-jawed and blinking hard.

  Busted, motherfucker.

  A part of me wanted to actually bust out a victory dance, because people who didn’t cheat themselves typically didn’t stay with those who did, so by my calculations, Juliana would be single by morning. If she wasn’t already.

  I was happy to offer my services as a rebound fuck.

  The other part of me was fighting to keep calm, to let this scene play out in front of me without interfering. I didn’t like the way Scott was now sneering at Amber, but I was ready to step in at a moment’s notice.

  “You! You!” Amber exclaimed. I could think of at least 10 names for him that she could take her pick of, but I kept them to myself.

  Scott held his hand up innocently. “Amber, Ambi, come on. This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Amber clearly wasn’t fooled, her eyebrows shot up, and she closed the distance between them, getting right up in his face. “Don’t give me that shit, Scott. It’s exactly what it looks like!”

  He stared down at her menacingly, then shrugged. “So what if it is? What’re you going to do about it, Amber?”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she poked him in the shoulder, “You ass! Juliana won’t even talk to me, and now you’re here with this slut?”

  She pointed the finger at hairspray, who objected loudly with an indignant scoff. “I’m not a slut!”

  Hairspray proceeded to right her dress that had exposed more of her fake tits under Scott’s ministrations than I’d even wanted to see. Then continued to tug at the hem as if trying to make it longer and prove her point that she wasn’t a slut.

  “Shut it, Dana. I’m talking to Scott.” Amber snapped, then continued on her rampage. “You’re out with some cheap whore while my best friend isn’t taking my calls. You’re such a worthless piece of—”

  She was cut off by the sound of Scott’s laughter, loud and chilling. Amber looked shocked, then raised her hand and slapped him across the cheek.

  Atta girl.

  Scott’s laughter was cut short by her slap, and he responded by pushing her. Hard. “Who the fuck do think you are, bitch? Coming here and getting up in my face about this bullshit?”

  And there was my cue. I rose from my stool and was walking toward them when he pushed her again, so hard that she stumbled backward.

  The world around me slowed down, and everything seemed to happen at once. I caught Amber around the waist and righted her, then spun around and punched Scott in the face, my knuckles connecting with his jaw with a satisfying crunch.

  The bastard stood for a second longer, then fell to the ground like a sack of old potatoes. Out like a light after only one punch.

  Pussy.

  A stunned silence fell around the bar, then someone started cheering, and someone else joined in. Soon, I was receiving a standing ovation. It appeared that I wasn’t the only person in town who thought Scott was a douche and was fed up with his antics.

  I took a little bow, escaped the offers of shots and beers that were being extended my way, and left the asshole on the floor with a trickle of blood flowing from his nose and dripping out his mouth.

  As I was leaving the bar, a beefy guy with black hair clapped me on the shoulder with a grin on his face. “You hot for Amber or something?”

  “Nah. Men shouldn’t shove women around, and he needed to be reminded of that. If it was for anyone, it was for Juliana.”

  Chapter 14

  Juliana

  Two measly eggs were all that I had left in my fridge. Sighing, I vowed that I would go to the grocery store later. Grabbing the eggs, I shut the door on my now-empty fridge. I carried the eggs to the stove and was starting to fry them when I noticed that my phone, still on the countertop where I’d left it the night before, had the notification light flashing.

  I grabbed it just as it started buzzing with incoming texts. Blowing up with them was more like it, actually.

  None of them were from Scott. Nor were any of the calls I’d missed. He was, however, the only person in town who hadn’t reached out to me. Or that was what it felt like, at least.

  Swiping away 18 missed calls from Amber and scrolling past at least twice as many texts from her, I started piecing together why I was on the town’s mind this morning.

  Ashley: HOLY SHIT!!!! Scott just got punched the fuck out by that big guy from the other night.

  Claudia: Dude! Wish you were at Rennie’s last night. Scott showed up with Dana, then had a showdown with Amber. A guy I don’t know jumped him. One shot and Scott went down. Asshole deserved it. You okay?

  Jackie: Scott’s an a-hole. Heard you threw him out, good on you sister!!! Got his own back last night. Wasn’t there, but Josh said a guy he’s seen around probably broke his nose. Maybe jaw. HA HA!

  Anna: Slimy, cheating bastard! Leopard doesn’t change its spots and all… pushed Amber around. Dude who did it told M it was for you tho.

  There were a lot more along that vein, and there wasn’t a doubt in mind who the guy was who had stepped in. It was confirmed when I found a short video clip sent to me from a guy I went to high school with.

  Sure enough, there was Pacey standing over a crumpled Scott lying on the ground, looking sheepish when people started cheering. It seemed the hunky SEAL had been at the right place at the
right time again.

  I knew that I shouldn’t have, but I smiled a little as I finished cooking my eggs. One of the elements of small town living was that everyone knew everything about each other with lightning speed, as had been demonstrated once again.

  For once, I wished that I’d been present to see the latest event that had every tongue in town wagging. I would have paid good money to see Scott get his clock cleaned. And he’d told Anna’s boyfriend Michael that it was for me.

  It was sad, but no one had ever stood up for me like that before. I didn’t condone violence, and I didn’t need anyone to take care of me, but it sounded like Scott had it coming anyway, and it was weirdly flattering that Pacey had thought of me despite whatever Scott had pulled with Amber.

  It sure seemed that it hadn’t taken him long to get over me, or over Amber, for that matter. It surprised me that after only one night of moping, I was actually okay with Scott being gone. If anything, it was Amber’s betrayal that still stung.

  Somewhere around halfway into my eggs, I had realized that I’d never loved Scott. Not really. It’d been fun while it lasted, but that was all it had been. Lately, it hadn’t even been fun. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that relief was the strongest emotion I felt about breaking up with him.

  He was headed down a path I didn’t want to follow him on, though I wasn’t sure exactly where it was leading or what he was up to, but whatever it was had to be bad news. I felt sorry that Amber had gotten wrapped up in it now, but it wasn’t like she’d asked for my opinion of the guy.

  I also suspected that Amber knew a lot more about what was going on with Scott than she’d shared with me. Those two would have to live with what they’d done and with whatever else was going on.

  As for me, once my eggs were finished and a pint of ice cream had gone the same way, I was having a glass of wine, or maybe two, I’d realized that with Scott gone I was free to explore my attraction to Pacey. An exploration that had ended with another vivid dream, one that I’d acted on this time and after everything last night, my attraction to him was at an all-time high.