At the precipice of an epic change in his life, Tucker wasn’t sure which pursuit he should concentrate on first. If he pursued joining a SEAL team, would marriage interfere with his training? And if he made the team, would he be able to be as devoted a husband as she required? Was it fair to Brandy to put her through all this?
He decided to wait on either event until he could see himself having both. Then he’d give the choice to Brandy and pray like hell somehow it all worked out.
Although he knew that was never the way to run a mission, it was going to have to just stay that way for a bit until he could figure things out. Because when he moved, he wanted to be balls to the wall. No excuses. No holding back. Going for it with every ounce of his being. He’d throw his heart out there in the ring too. Mix it up, and hope she’d agree to take him, wounded, unsure of himself than he ever wanted to admit.
She could love out all the kinks and inconsistencies lodged like pieces of glass inside him, while he was planting roots inside her.
There was a chance this could work. But just a chance.
In either event, it would be worth it.
Chapter 2
Brandy Cook had never been to Northern California Wine Country before and was stunned with the beauty surrounding her. Every direction she beheld world-class views of green hills dotted with acres of vineyard cornrows. Yellow mustard flowers and gnarled old growth vines lay before her on the famous Dry Creek Valley floor. She was so overwhelmed, she could hardly speak.
She drifted into a dreamy fantasy of growing vegetables and raising brightly colored flowers, as Amy had been doing at the Frog Haven Winery, where they were staying.
Dad would love this place!
An avid gardener himself, Steven Cook owned an organic fruit stand and general market, catering to health-conscious San Diego tourists out for an afternoon drive near the ocean. She and Tucker lived in a cottage behind Cook’s farmhouse, some five miles down the road. Tucker had been helping Mr. Cook prepare the land behind for planting just before they’d left for vacation up north.
Her best friend, Dorie Hanks, slipped quietly next to her as they both approached the tasting room.
“You’re upsetting the animals in the zoo, Brandy. I should have warned you.” With her pert smile, the new bride showed perfectly aligned white teeth—the kind one needed shades to fully appreciate.
“Excuse me?”
“That tee shirt shows every curve and each little—” She was eyeing Brandy’s chest, pointing and trying not to be too obvious.
Brandy noted that her replaced tee was even smaller than the one she’d shown up in. She blushed.
“I didn’t even think,” she whispered. “I hate wearing bras—those contraptions that feel more like some sort of Victorian torture device. I’d much rather have rounded hills than taillight rockets or peaks resembling the Himalayas.”
“That’s a visual. You’re great with words, Brandy.” Then she nodded in the direction of a bevy of young men not in their SEAL delegation, all of whom quickly turned away at exactly the same time.
Brandy sighed. “Point taken. Dammit.”
“Where is your other shirt?”
“I got it dirty on the ride over.” Brandy didn’t want to look into Dorie’s eyes. “I’ll see if they have some sort of wrap I can buy inside the winery store.”
“Come with me.” Dorie grabbed her hand and led her to Brawley’s Hummer. She brought out a multicolored oversized silk scarf. “You have to wear layers up here. This comes in handy.” She wrapped it around Brandy’s shoulders, tying the front in a knot. “There.”
Brandy stared down at the ridiculous colors that didn’t match anything she was wearing, including her personality, but she was thankful, just the same.
“Appreciate you looking out for me, Dorie. What would I do without you?”
“Get into trouble,” her friend answered, scrunching her nose up. “Probably have more fun than I’m having.”
Brandy was surprised at this. “Already? The newlywed glow has come off?”
Her best friend cocked her head from side to side and rolled her eyes. “You know these guys. The chase is better than the catch. They are relentless until they get you nailed.” She winked and whispered in Brandy’s ear. “I mean that in every sense of the word.” She stood back, adjusted the scarf at the hem so it covered Brandy’s upper arms evenly. “And then they’re off chasing other things.”
“No way. Not Brawley!”
Dorie was examining her fingers laced together waist high. When she looked up, Brandy could see the pain in her eyes. The sober realization between the two best friends was left unspoken, as if that would help stamp it out.
Brandy wanted to give Brawley a piece of her mind. She could put pepper in his coffee, laxatives in his morning milkshake. Maybe put itching powder in his jeans and underwear. Place some really stinky cheese in his favorite running shoes. There was so much she could do. He’d been like a brother ever since he’d met Dorie, always so respectful and fun. She’d harbored an enormous crush on him for the past eighteen months while they were dating, and then got engaged. She’d never picked up that he would be a wanderer. That louse!
This changed everything. This meant war.
Before she could say anything, Dorie speared her with her baby blue eyes. “Not. A. Word.”
Brandy tried to look offended, frowning, but was having difficulty making eye contact.
“I mean it, Brandy. You don’t do or say anything. And you never heard any of this from me, either. I’ll completely deny it and call you a crazy. Don’t say anything to Tucker, either.”
“Is Tucker?—”
“Not a word. And no, Tucker’s fine.”
She was picking up the habit of fisting and unfisting her hands, along with the deep breathing exercises she’d learned from Tucker. It helped keep her calm until she could resign herself to the inevitable. She was going to have to act normal, and play with Brawley, like she didn’t know. It was going to be a long day in close proximity with him. And she was dying to have the question and answer session with Tucker that she dared not have. So much to stuff down. It was totally unfair.
The two of them walked side-by-side and, as they often did, they bumped hips. It was the lazy familiarity she’d grown accustomed to being plucky relief to the gorgeous Dorie Hanks. They headed to the entrance to the tasting room, crisply crushing the pink granite rocks underfoot.
Dorie giggled.
“What?” Brandy asked.
“I can’t believe how loose you’ve gotten. Tucker has that affect on women, I’d say.”
Brandy considered her statement. Was Tucker a player? If he was Brawley’s best friend, then perhaps they got into trouble together. She tried to recall if the two SEALs had been out in the evening alone since their return from Dorie’s honeymoon, and she discovered that yes, they had. She didn’t like not trusting Tucker, but she couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping in. Her wine country bliss was fading.
“Come on, Brandy. Get over it. If I can, you can.” Dorie nudged her, almost setting her off balance.
“Sorry.” Brandy knew the only thing that would cheer her up would be to do something devious, hurt Brawley in some way. But not get caught—by anyone!
“It will all work out.” Her friend sighed. “My father was the same way and I got a lot of practice watching my mother deal with it. After they finally split up, the first time she brought someone over to the family home, he was nearly twenty years younger and cute as a button.” Dorie was giggling again. “I never laughed so hard in my life. My dad never quite got over it. Served him right for how he treated my mom all those years.”
It wasn’t the kind of family dynamic Brandy had any familiarity with. But then, her mother was gone and her father had been totally devoted to her and probably always would be. This type of behavior wasn’t going to be what she wanted to get used to. And if that was a red line and ended things, so be it.
So she focused on g
etting revenge instead. An evil smile crept across her face. “I admire your mother for getting even. That was the only way to take care of it, in my opinion,” she said to her beautiful blonde friend.
They slowly made their way into the cool tasting room smelling of fermented grapes. Gentle music echoed throughout the space, hushing the crowd who whispered their wine selections over the hammered copper bar to the two servers behind. The civilized explanation of all the features and characteristics of the wine was hard to hear, due to the echoes and the size of the late morning crowd. People listened. They nodded. They wrote notes on small chits of paper with little red pencils, consulted the luscious brochure laid before them, sipped their wine sample and savored the taste like it was a tiny orgasm.
As she studied the crowd, she found Tucker staring at her. He raised an eyebrow and tapped his collarbone with his fingers. She let him wait, considering what to do, and then allowed her sex-infused fantasy weekend to take charge again. Her right hand slipped under the silk and she pulled it aside, revealing her nipple pattern beneath the cotton shirt.
The effect on Tucker was immediate. He raised both eyebrows, tilted his head back, licked his lips, and then gave her a wink.
She covered her breast with the scarf again and turned to watch the tourists imbibe. Dorie pulled her toward the bar.
“Let’s get something to taste. Like a mob scene in here today. Everyone’s so polite, we’ll never get a chance to drink anything.”
Brandy chose to taste the Dry Creek Cabernet instead of starting with white wines the server recommended.
“I hate white wine,” she said when the server asked Brandy about it. Dorie followed her lead. The wine was smooth and full-flavored, the aftertaste coating her tongue dangerously. She craved sharp cheese and crusty French bread, or a good steak.
“I like this,” said Dorie.
“I do too,” she answered. “But darned if it doesn’t make me want to chow down a big steak. They say wine enhances your appetite, and for me, it certainly does.”
“Makes me horny,” added Dorie.
The server was holding another red selection, his eyes wide and his cheeks suddenly pink. Dorie flashed him a smile and the server nearly dropped the bottle.
“Some Pinot?” he asked with difficulty.
“Oh why not?” Dorie held her glass out and accepted the deep burgundy-colored elixir. Brandy followed suit.
Tucker followed behind Brawley as they sliced through the crowd to join the ladies.
“Find something you like?” he asked his bride.
“The Cabernet.” She spoke to the server. “Can I have another taste?”
“Of course.” The winery employee picked up another glass and poured Dorie a generous amount, then held out two more. “Gentlemen?”
While Brawley reached across the counter to accept his sample, Brandy turned to address Tucker, swilling the beautiful blend to coat the sides of her glass. A few drops spilled over the top and landed at the small of Brawley’s back. He arched up quickly, felt the back of his shirt, and then examined his palm.
“You got me there, Brandy. A little less wrist action or we’ll all be soaked.” And then Brawley inhaled the contents of his glass in one gulp dismissively.
“Why Brawley Hanks. I didn’t know you were afraid of a little action.”
Dorie stared daggers at her while Tucker frowned. Brandy wished she’d gone with the itching powder or the stinky cheese. But for now, she was satisfied.
She’d have to reassure her best friend that the secret they shared would remain that way.
Chapter 3
Tucker stopped tasting at the third winery they came to, unwilling to sacrifice his clean driving record. But it humored him to see Brandy get smashed. She was going to need some food soon. The picnic had been postponed and finally, at two o’clock, they were ready to stop to eat.
The air was chilly so they decided to eat at the old Healdsburg General Store, an old Pony Express station and roadhouse that were a hundred and fifty years old. Horses in the front were replaced with Mercedes and Bentleys, and today, a herd of Hummers and four-door trucks.
The ladies lined up to use the restroom and Tucker ordered for the two of them and took his place at the long table that could easily seat twenty. The old wooden floors had a slight bounce to them. The noise of dragging chairs over the oak planks reminded him of one of his grammar schools in Oregon growing up.
His mood had lightened, but he still remained focused. Like several others, being the sober driver, he took his job seriously so as to protect the women who were mostly laughing and hanging off their men. He saw Coop grinning at him. The tall Nebraska farm boy didn’t drink but that didn’t diminish his enjoyment of the day. Libby, his wife, sat beside him, in a pink alcohol flush, fanning herself with a menu.
Kyle Lansdowne appeared on a chair to his left.
“So, I gotta ask you, are you in for the next BUD/S class?”
“I just haven’t finished the paperwork. Collins said I can have a shot and he’d do what he could.”
“You know you’ll spend a few months at Great Lakes first. Same program all over again,” the Team 3 LPO said.
“I’m prepared. This time I get to do it in the summer. Last time I froze my ass off,” answered Tucker.
As the ladies started filtering back into the store, Kyle shot the important question Tucker knew was coming. “You told Brandy yet?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want to do that before I turn in my forms.”
“So what you’re telling me is that if she objects, you may not continue?”
He looked into the eyes of a Team leader he greatly respected, knowing he had Tucker’s welfare at heart. It didn’t make the answer any easier.
“No, Kyle. It means that if I turn it in without telling her first, I’ll have my butt on the street.” He took a gulp of ice water. “I already screwed up one marriage because I didn’t handle that right. If she’s the one, I got to do this careful.”
“If she’s the one, she’ll stand by something you want to do,” said Kyle.
“Roger that for sure.” Something tickled his insides. “You know, old married Kyle, you’re what, five years younger than I am? And here you’re giving me advice?”
“No advice, man. Just asking.”
“So let me ask you a question. Do you ever really know what a woman is thinking until you ask her? Even if you ask her, are you really one hundred percent sure you’re getting the truth? Be honest with me, Kyle.”
Kyle chuckled and nodded. “Got me there, Tucker. Nope, I love my wife with all my heart and I’d lay down mine anytime for her. But, damned if I know what she’s thinking every day. I just hope and pray I live up to what she wants. It ain’t up to me. The woman chooses. You know that, right? We just gotta hope that they have all the facts to make a good informed decision.”
Tucker laughed. “That’s what I keep telling myself every night in bed. Helping her make an informed decision.”
They both chuckled again. “That’s one way of putting it. But time’s running out. I think you’d make a helluva Team Guy, and I want you with us when we next go over.”
“Thanks, Kyle.”
“And one other thing. If you’re going to Great Lakes, you can’t come with us to Mexico. That BUD/S class reports in two weeks, but I suppose you already know that.”
“Indeed I do,” Tucker said, finishing off his water. “Collins told me they’ve got one of my trainees going with you guys in my place. But I don’t get a refund on the fishing trip I already paid for. That sucks. But I hear you, and I’m getting to it.” He grabbed Brandy’s water and crunched down some of her ice as he gazed at Brandy’s lovely body headed right for him.
“Good.” Kyle patted him on the back and slid down a couple of chairs to make way for some of the women, including Christy, to join the group.
It was chilly back at Frog Haven. Tucker gave Brandy
one of his heavier jackets, took her hand and asked her to come for a walk with him between the rows of vines just beginning to bud. At first her expression was one of surprise. But her nervous banter told him she was afraid of something. She was taking deep breaths, doing rhythmic breathing and even shivering slightly.
“You cold, Sweetheart?”
“A little, I guess. I’m hoping we can turn in early. Think I had a little too much today.”
“Ah, but it was a thing of beauty to watch you and all the other ladies.” He’d enjoyed saving her from falling or holding her close so she could walk steady. He also kept her separated from Dorie, because the newlyweds were having an argument, and a fairly serious one at that. He decided to let her bring up what was concerning her so he didn’t appear to pry. And then he’d let her know about his plans.
In a few short minutes, she approached the subject of Dorie and Brawley. “I think they are arguing about his wandering eye. Do you know anything about that?”
Tucker was aware Brawley had strayed off the path during their engagement, and it was the one thing he was most disappointed with.
“I didn’t know about the argument, or specifically what was the problem, but, well, Brawley has had lots of experience being single for many years. I didn’t think he would ever get married, so I kind of suspected Dorie was pregnant, but he says no. Some men are just that way, Sweetheart.”
He could tell that statement sent a jolt through her body.
“What about you?” She stopped walking and waited for him to turn around and face her.
“I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life. I never intend to. But, you remember that conversation we had over my magazines—the ones I used to have anyway. Men like to look. Women are beautiful creatures—all sizes and shapes and ages or coloring. Hard not to stare at God’s handiwork.
She gave him back a weak smile that he could barely see by moonlight. The shadows made her look a bit sad.
SEALed At The Altar_Bone Frog Brotherhood Novel Page 2