SEALs of Winter: A military romance superbundle

by Seton, Cora

  The phone rang and she hiccupped, wiped her face with the back of one hand, and closed the album, slipping it under the seat of the sofa as she headed to the phone. With a sniff, she lifted the receiver to her ear.

  “How are you doing today?”

  Macy Pettigrew’s whisky-flavored voice had Callie straightening her shoulders. Her boss and best friend was the least sentimental woman she knew. She didn’t call employees or her friends to simply ask them whether they were well, so the fact Callie had been wallowing in self-pity wasn’t something she was prepared to share. Macy would only tsk and tell her to she’d made her bed—without Derek—and now was the time to pull up her big girl panties.

  “Do you need me for something?” Callie asked nonchalantly, an effort that was spoiled by her breathless delivery.

  “Do you need me, you sound upset?”

  A frown drew her brows together. “Really?” she muttered. “Who is this? Did aliens steal my boss’s body?”

  “Ha-ha. Your voice sounds funny. You gotta cold, hon?”

  “Allergies,” Callie said, wiping her eyes one last time. “That why you called me? You worried I won’t be in to work on Monday?”

  Macy chuckled. “Margie’s already been by your house. Said you looked a little down, and wondered if you were moonin’ over some fine man you kicked to the curb.”

  Slumping against the nearest wall, Callie rolled her eyes. The gift of a small town was also its curse. The grapevine was short as hell. Had someone had seen her watching Derek on her computer? “Am I really so predictable?”

  After a long pause, Macy cleared her throat. “Saw his mama yesterday in the grocery store. She says he’s comin’ home. Be here any day. You gonna see him?”

  Derek’s coming home? Callie gripped the handset hard. No wonder Margie had been grinning. She must have known. “I already told you; we broke up the last time he came home. He hasn’t contacted me so I don’t know his plans.”

  Macy cleared her throat. “Still, the fact he’s back so soon has to mean something.”

  “Maybe he just misses his mom. The last time he left he made it clear we were done.” Callie closed her eyes against a new welling of tears.

  A sigh drifted over the line. “You need a pick-me-up? We could meet at Shooters for drinks.”

  “I don’t feel much like company.”

  “Well, if you need a shoulder to cry on…”

  “Thanks, Macy.” Callie let her gaze stray to the computer monitor where Derek’s stare seemed to meet hers across the distance. “Macy, did I make a mistake?”

  “I can’t tell you that, hon. You had your reasons. Sorry-assed ones, if you ask me. But Derek’s always known what’s important to you. And he knows you don’t trust easy. If he got tired of tryin’ to prove to you that you can trust him, can’t say as I blame him.”

  Why did hearing her perfectly legitimate reasons for saying ‘no’ make her decision sound stupid? Callie sniffed. “Sure you don’t need me this weekend?”

  “No properties to show. Stay home. Get stinkin’ drunk if you have to. He will show up in town, and you need to be ready.”

  After Callie hung up, she glanced down at her ratty robe. She’d had her cry. And Macy knew she wasn’t much of a drinker, but Callie got her point. She’d spend the weekend memorizing Derek’s photo album and pouring through memories—one last time before she delivered it to his mother and moved on. Had he sent her the pictures as his way of purging her from his past? Derek was lost to her. She’d been the one to let him go, and she had no one but herself to blame for that choice.

  The doorbell rang again, and she rolled her eyes. If her mother was standing on her step, ready to tell her to go after her man seein’ as he was coming home…

  She opened the door. Sunlight blinded her but outlined the tall frame of the man waiting on her porch. Not that she needed to see his features to know who he was. Broad shoulders seemed to span the doorframe. A taut abdomen and narrow hips drew her hungry glance. He wore blue jeans, a tee that stretched over his muscled torso, and his old scuffed cowboy boots. His feet shifted.

  He reached out a finger and tipped up her face. An achingly familiar gesture she’d missed. “Mornin’, Callie,” he said softly.

  Meeting his blue gaze was pure torture—mostly due to her traitorous racing pulse. “Hi, Derek.” He was looking so good her entire body melted, and she leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t know you were back in town.” So what if she was lying and he likely knew it. News like this traveled faster than a wildfire in drought-dry grass. But she needed a moment to regroup her scattered thoughts.

  “Arrived this mornin’. Mom cooked me breakfast. Thought I’d hit all the stops.” His shoulders lifted. “Funny thing is, first place I had to be was here.”

  She swallowed. His voice held a note of reticence, like he wasn’t sure he was welcome. But she could hardly invite him inside. Not when his face was plastered in pause mode on her computer screen. Waving a hand the length of her body, she cleared her throat. “I’m not dressed.”

  “I can wait.”

  “You can’t come in.”

  His head lifted, his jaw tightening. “Sorry to bother you.”

  “No.” And even though she knew giving in was a mistake, that being anywhere near him was sure to unleash all the raw, hurtful feelings she’d been carrying around since the last time she saw him, she couldn’t let him leave like this. “Just let me get dressed.”

  His eyes narrowed, and a small smile tilted up one corner of his mouth. “I’ve seen you in less.”

  Her heartbeat skittered, and her mind raced for another excuse. “My house is a mess.”

  “Always is.”

  This time, she squinted up at him, irritation beginning a slow burn, something she was grateful for because now she could face him with her backbone intact. “Five minutes.” She stepped back and shut the door, and then sagged against it, her forehead softly banging against the sturdy oak.

  She drew a deep fortifying breath, and then began to grin. He was here—the first place he’d come after seeing his mama. That had to mean something. But then she remembered the album, and her breath caught in her throat. Was he here to finish unloading old memories? To tell her face to face that he’d found someone else?

  Backing away from the door, she let that thought linger for about two seconds. He wasn’t wearing a ring, something she’d noted when she’d been caught staring. So, the man was still fair game. Lifting her chin, she headed toward her bedroom, stopping by her desk to shut off the monitor to kill the damning picture.

  For the first time in five months, she experienced a thrill in her heart. Sure, nothing had been resolved between them. He was still stubbornly hell-bent on roaming the world, and she had a life here, filled with friends and work she enjoyed. But maybe, this time, they could find some middle ground. She’d be open this time. Really listen to his hopes and dreams. She wasn’t her mother, and Derek wasn’t like any of her loser stepdads. After that last fight, she’d come to the realization of how wrong she’d been to paint him in the same light. Dead wrong to limit her dreams based on her mama’s history.

  One thing she’d learned in all this these months alone was that a life without Derek was no life at all.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Derek blew out the breath he’d been holding. Sure, she’d slammed the door in his face, not allowing him to step foot over her threshold, but she hadn’t sent him away. He’d count that single act as progress.

  This was his last chance. He knew the truth of that statement in his bones. He’d kept tabs on her over the months, writing all of their friends, while his mother kept her ear close to the lively gossip grapevine. The last time he’d stood in this spot, he’d been harsh. If she’d found someone else, well, he only had himself to blame. But she hadn’t moved on; she was still single. In fact, everyone noted she’d lost the sparkle in her eyes. Something that made him sad, but also hopeful. Maybe she still carried a
torch for him. His had never burned out, despite the fact he’d been dead serious about moving on when he’d left.

  However, months of eating desert dust without letters filled with her funny observations of the people they both knew, and a last quick line telling him what she missed most when he was away, left him so restless and ornery he’d been a bear to be around. Something everyone on the team had noted.

  His buddies had chided him for dumping her. They missed eating her tasty cookies. He missed that feeling of connection he experienced every time he unfolded her latest letter, which he’d always kept in the pocket over his heart—his good luck charm. The occasional Skyped conversation had helped him keep her face alive in his mind. She’d show him her latest hair cut, the ornaments on her nails, the newest Smurf toy she’d added to her growing collection. All those odd little moments when her mind darted to the next subject that he’d always found so hard to follow, because he was too busy being entranced with her mobile, expressive face.

  He’d been in love with her since the first moment they’d met. Lately, he’d begun to believe she was permanently imprinted on his heart, because he couldn’t work up a speck of interest in any other woman. And she didn’t have a clue how far he’d go to make her his very own. This time, he couldn’t blow their relationship. He was going for broke—if he could manage to get his mouth to work in concert with his brain.

  The first sight of her had rendered him temporarily speechless. Yes, her sun-streaked blonde hair was a mess. Her face completely free of makeup. And he was pretty sure she’d had that old robe since high school. Seeing her hazel eyes widen and her soft mouth open at the sight of him on her doorstep had kick-started his libido.

  Watching her gaze trail down his body made him afraid she’d know exactly how happy he was to see her. So he’d tipped up her face to keep her gaze locked with his while he’d fought for self-control.

  That tatty robe was worn so thin he’d seen her body’s instant response, an echo of his own excitement, betrayed by the pricking of her nipples. Maybe her affection had faded, but on that sexy and primal level, she still wanted him. He could work with that.

  The door opened again. Callie’s cheeks were rosy, but her gaze was more guarded. “Would you like to go for coffee?”

  “Sure.” With a quick scan, he took in her skinny jeans and the neck-less blue tee that fell off one shoulder revealing a tantalizing dark pink strap. Would the cups of her bra be lace or softer? His mouth watered, and he flexed his hands to keep them lax.

  Her gaze went to his Mustang, and her mouth curved. “It’s still running?”

  He wrinkled his nose. He and his father had restored the ’69 Mustang while he’d been in high school, but the car had always had its quirks. Because his dad had been gone for these past five years, the car had remained in storage under a tarp whenever Derek wasn’t home. “A friend of mine had it serviced before I came. I’m taking her back with me. I plan to the blow the carbon out of the engine on my drive back to Virginia.”

  “Bet you will,” she said, arching a brow as she passed him, her body lightly brushing his.

  Had she done that on purpose? For him, the contact was like touching a live wire. Electricity sparked. The added waft of whatever perfume she’d spritzed was almost too much for his sensory-overloaded brain. A long time had passed since he’d last held her. The memory of their final night together, spent making love on her sofa before tumbling to the rug, flitted through his mind.

  “Not now, buddy,” he cautioned himself under his breath. Those thoughts were best left for when he was alone. She’d only agreed to coffee. Not cream. Still, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to her softly swaying ass as she strolled toward his ride.

  Her steps halted.

  His gaze darted back up to her face turned his way to glance over her shoulder. The crimping of her mouth said she knew darn well what he’d been looking at.

  Derek gave her a wry smile and sauntered after her. What could she expect? He’d been surrounded by a bunch of guys for months on end. He was barely civilized.

  He strode to the car and opened her door, standing aside to let her slide into the front seat. Then he trotted back around to the driver’s door. When he glanced up, he happened to see the curtain stir in the front window of the house across from Callie’s. No doubt Mrs. Norman had been peeking through the curtain the entire time he’d been there, and now she was eager to share this news with her friends. The gossip tree was not something he missed.

  Each and every misstep he’d made as a youth had been everyone’s business. His every move with Callie noted. Crimped lips and disapproving glances had followed him throughout his teens. That was, until he’d earned a spot on the high school football team, where his power and speed had helped lead the Warhorses to their most winning season ever. But he was a man now. So, why the hell was the back of his neck burning?

  Part of his joy in this morning, arriving home, seeing his mom and now sitting beside his girl in his cherry car, faded. He couldn’t live in the moment, not when he only had the next couple of days of freedom to savor. Come Monday, he’d be driving back East.

  The confines of his car closed in around him. The smell of pine from the freshener he’d bought at a gas station warred with Callie’s light perfume. “Sure you want coffee?” he asked, grimacing because his voice held a note of irritation he hadn’t been able to mask.

  “We don’t have to go for coffee. We don’t have to do anything at all. If you don’t want to be with me…”

  Holding up a pacifying hand, he shook his head. “It’s not you.”

  Her glance left him to stare at the streets they sped by. “It’s all right, you know. You can tell me.”

  She spoke so quietly, he almost didn’t make out the words.

  Her head swung back, and she gazed out the side window.

  Something in her eyes, maybe a hint of moisture, stopped him before he blurted, “Tell you what?” He gave her a quizzical glance, wanting her to explain, but not wanting to push her when she seemed upset. Was she unnerved by his mood swing?

  She took a deep breath. “I received the album. If it was your way of making a clean break, well, I hope she’s worthy of you.”

  Who? Derek aimed his glance at the road while he considered his response. She didn’t know he’d intended for the album to remind her of their long connected life together. That although they’d lived apart, she’d always been with him.

  Was she jealous? Was that hint of sadness in her eyes because she thought he was stepping out with some other woman? “Callie—”

  “I know you’ve been wanting to take that next step for a while. And I’m happy…if you’re happy…”

  Wearing a tight expression with pinched lips, she didn’t look particularly happy. She was back to staring out the window.

  Part of him wanted to blurt there wasn’t anyone else, that he’d come to the conclusion there would never be anyone else for him, but he kept silent, curious about what she’d say next.

  “I just want you to be sure. We have history, Derek. And I know we said things, but…” She swallowed and her gaze swung back. “The fact you’re here, with me now…that I was the first place you headed, that has to mean something.” With short jerks, she played with the ends of her hair.

  Like she’d always done when nervous. Derek’s mood lightened. In fact, a dark delight shivered through him. Callie was worried she’d lost him. What might she be willing to do if she thought he could still be swayed?

  He cleared his throat. “There’s nothin’ definite,” he said. “I haven’t proposed or anything.” Good Lord, how far could he take this without actually lying? Maybe this was another way of looking at his relationship with Callie. “She’s not ready. Or at least, she thinks she’s not.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Callie—”

  She waved her hands like she was erasing her words from the air between them. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of
my business.”

  “How can you say that? We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

  “Friends…” Her chest lifted, and she blew out a stream of air between her lips.

  Slowly, like she was trying to calm herself. Inwardly, he smiled. This might be fun. He wouldn’t string her along for very long. But didn’t she deserve to feel a little off-kilter, to wonder where she really stood? For the longest time, he’d felt as though he’d always been second in her affections, right behind Two Mule. “I know we parted on less-than-friendly terms the last time I was here. And I apologize for that. But I’d hate to think we couldn’t patch things up. Someday, I’ll be back here for good. Wouldn’t it be something if our kids could play together?”

  Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes bugged just a little. Heat entered her cheeks.

  All signs that encouraged him to continue. A mad Callie was someone he could handle. Her tears would have killed him.

  Her arms crossed over her chest, and she settled back into her seat. “If we’re not goin’ for coffee, where are we headin’?”

  He hadn’t realized they’d already passed the outskirts of the town. But his instincts never steered him wrong so he kept on going. “You don’t mind goin’ to the bluff with me, do you?”

  She glanced at him from under the dark fringe of her long lashes, a calculating gleam in her eyes.

  He whistled softly, pretending he hadn’t been watching her so carefully that he knew exactly what she was thinking now.

  The bluff had been one of their favorite make-out spots. How long would it take her to decide she would fight for him? Derek hoped that militant gleam meant she’d decided not to let him go without giving it her all.