Her father was a handsome man. His temples had begun to grey, but he didn’t dye his hair like a lot of men in Hollywood. He looked a lot like his father, Braden.
“I don’t need to ask, but I will anyway. Why have you dropped Foster from your name?”
She tilted her head and transferred a scallop to her plate. “Because I’m a Stines.”
“Arnold Foster was the only grandfather you knew,” he said, teasing a mussel from its shell.
“True, but he’s not my real grandfather. Braden Stines was. Grams still loves him—even to this day.”
Her father’s cutlery stopped moving, and he looked over with blue eyes like her own. “Does she talk about him?” He shifted attention back to his food.
“I asked her about him. I wanted to know who he was because you never mention him.”
Her dad nodded his head slowly. “I guess I don’t.”
“Why?” she prodded.
“He’s gone. There’s no point.”
Marg bit her lip and saw the tight wrinkles on her father’s brow. She breathed in a silent breath. “He’s your father. Does it really matter where he died?”
“He had a choice, Marg. He had us and he chose to be a SEAL. Chose to put his life on the line and he lost it.”
“You miss him, though. I know you do.”
Her father’s gaze rose to meet hers for a moment, then flashed away, looking inward with thought. “I wish things had been different, but I’m grateful to Arnold Foster for everything he did for your grandmother and for me. He treated you like his own.”
“I liked him, too, Dad, but Grandfather Stines is my blood. He’s part of our family. He’s the reason you’re my dad.”
Her dad lifted his glass for a sip of wine, but paused. “He’d be gone for months, but when we heard he was coming home, I used to wait on the stoop of the little house we lived in. When the taxi drove up and he got out of the cab—” Her father inhaled deeply. “We had this thing. Ever since I could hold a football. When he came home, I’d throw that ball clear across the lawn. When I was little, I could barely throw it five feet. By the time I was fourteen, he caught it a few steps from the cab and fired it back at me. Before I caught it, he had me in a hug.”
Marg’s eyes glazed with a sheen of tears because her father’s had as well.
“He never got to see you.” He paused. “I remember getting the phone call from your Grams. I walked out the door of the house your mom and I rented and sat on the stoop. Don’t know how long I’d sat there or why.” He shook his head. “Maybe I was hoping it was a mistake, and by sitting there I could bring him back, but the strangest thing happened.”
Marg leaned forward.
“I heard a thump and looked up to see a kid on the walkway. Sorry, mister, he said. You mind passing me my ball? I looked over and there was a football sitting not five feet away.”
Marg reached across the table and covered her father’s hand. “Dad, maybe he was telling you, he’d always be around.”
“Coincidence, Marg. That’s all it was.”
Her throat tightened with emotion.
“I hated him for a long time. Hated him for choosing the Navy instead of us. Hated him for not being there when I needed him as a young father.” He shook his head and placed his fork on the plate. “I don’t know how much your Grams has shared with you.”
“Just a little. How much she loved him. How much she misses him. Even though she lost him, she was proud of him.”
Silence seeped across the table for the longest time before her father spoke again. “He was my idol. I wanted to be just like him. I remember there was a lot of laughter when Dad was home. It was easy to see he and your Grams loved each other.”
Her father painted a picture of a family she wished she’d grown up with. There hadn’t been a lot of laughter in her home. There weren’t memories of summers at the beach. It was always room service and penthouse suites in fancy hotels. They’d never once cooked a marshmallow over a fire. They’d never even snuggled on a couch and watched a movie from her dad’s studio together. But she’d bet a million dollars her dad had done that.
“Are you still angry with him?” she asked, unsure whether she would tell him about Patrick.
“We moved on, Margaret. Your grandmother married Arnold, and he gave our family a better life.”
Their entrées arrived, and Marg stared down at the nouveau meal of chicken and rice, decorated with scallions and a mushroom sauce. “But wouldn’t you give it all up if you could have him back? Does all the money and pomp really matter?”
Her father thought about it. “I have no way to answer that, sweetheart. And guessing at a past that isn’t possible has no purpose.”
“I met someone,” she blurted, and darted a look at her father.
He cleared his throat. “And you’re going to tell me he’s in the Navy, aren’t you?”
It was better he heard it from her than if Bruce squealed on her. “We’ve only been on a couple dates.”
“What’s his name?”
Marg narrowed her gaze. “Why, so you can look up his financial records?”
Calmly finishing a mouthful of his food, her father gave her one of those looks she remembered as a girl. The one that said he had a right to dictate her life. “There are people who will take advantage of our family if they could.”
“Daaad,” she crowed, but quietly as to not attract attention.
“Listen, Margaret. I know you have always been independent. Even as little girl, you didn’t want help learning to walk. You wanted to hold your own fork. Everything you tried to do, you did with as little help from us as you could. That’s who you are. In a way, I’m proud of that.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
“Please just let me say this. You’re an adult now, but you’re still young. I guarantee, your priorities will change over time. Money doesn’t mean anything to you. But one day it will. One day, you’ll want a home. You’ll want the best for your children. That’s all I want for you, too. That’s why I want you to give Bruce a chance.”
She sighed and pushed a scallop around her plate. “So love has nothing to do with a happy future?”
“Love? Who is this man?”
She knew full well if she told him he was in the SEAL training program, her father would lose his temper. “I’ll introduce you, if you want, but you have to be nice.”
“Does he have a decent family?”
“I don’t know,” she lied. Patrick hadn’t shared a lot, but she did know they weren’t wealthy like hers. Few people were as wealthy as hers. “I do know he’s a good person. He’s working hard to achieve a new position in the Navy.”
Letting out a deep sigh, he said, “Is he an officer?”
She shook her head. “He’s enlisted.”
“You’re being very vague, Marg, and I can only assume it’s because you think I won’t approve.”
“Unless I marry Bruce, you won’t be pleased, but I hope if things work out between Patrick and me, you’ll respect my choices.”
He nodded slowly. “Patrick.”
She hedged for a minute. “Patrick Cobbs.”
“And?”
“And—he grew up here, in San Diego.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
The waiter interrupted to see if all was well with their meals. When he inconspicuously left the table, her father hadn’t lost track of their conversation, nor did she expect that he would. “I’m not rushing into anything.”
“That’s good. Although you might think I’m being harsh, I’m also your father and that means you’re my number one priority.”
She grinned. “I know, Dad.”
Two hours later, a quick tour through her tiny condo, and lots of news from the home front, she kissed her dad good-bye.
After she made some tea and settled down with a new book, the phone rang.
“Hey, Marg. It’s Kit Harper.”
“Hi, Kit. How are you
?”
“Thought I’d drop by and pick you up for dinner.”
After everything she’d learned about Kit from Thane and Patrick, she wasn’t keen on getting to know him any better than she already did. “That’s sweet, but I’ve already got a date tonight.”
The phone hummed with silence. “Cobbs, I suppose.”
“Actually, yes. We’re going to the Haunted House in Old Town.” Marg could hear a click, click, click from something in the background. Either that or they had a bad connection.
“Austen going to be there, too?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”
“Cobbs seems pretty into you. Didn’t think he’d want Austen around after you two…well ya know.”
Marg swallowed deeply. “No,” she said quickly. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, Marg. You left St. George’s with Austen that night. And neither of you came back.”
How the hell would Kit know that, unless he’d been there and seen them. “Your mind is in the gutter, Kit.”
“Don’t think it is, Marg. I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m actually trying to stop you from making a big mistake. Cobbs isn’t who you think he is. All I’m asking is for dinner. Ya know?”
She didn’t respond. Patrick had already suspected something had happened between her and Thane. She didn’t know how or when she’d tell Patrick. She hoped never, but she wasn’t willing to be blackmailed into a date. “Kit, thanks for asking me to dinner, but I’m busy.”
“Think you’ll change your mind?”
Her heart pattered heavily. “Doubt it.”
“Wasn’t the answer I was looking for.” And the line went dead.
Chapter Twelve
Patrick rubbed his palms on his pant legs. He’d turned the Harley off while he waited for Marg. Upscale places like this wouldn’t be thrilled to have his bike and a guy in leathers sitting out front. Case in point—a couple in their late fifties strolled out the entrance and kept a wary eye on him.
San Diego had its fair share of media headlines about crime and violence in the city, and bikers were often attached. Paradigms. He hated them, but it hadn’t stopped him from attaching them to Marg, making him a hypocrite. Just because she’d gone to Harvard didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. He tipped his head in a friendly gesture to the couple. The wife gave him a smile, but the husband wrapped his arm around her waist and kept walking.
Pat had waited two long days for Friday to arrive so he could see Marg again. When she exited the building, his breath wedged in his throat. The crisp evening shimmered around her. Tall and graceful, she walked like a young woman in control of her destiny. Beautiful beyond a man’s dreams. Her hair was piled on her head in a fashionable style he’d only seen on a magazine cover, and his fingers itched to rip it apart and tunnel in deep. Her words kept going round in his head. Why are you trying to be a gentlemen when I want to see the savage part of you? Mere words almost unhinged his iron-clad grip on treating her differently than the girls he’d grown up with or the Frog Hogs. He’d shown her a little bit of what brewed inside him when he’d kissed her the other night. Without knowing it, she’d given as good as she’d gotten, because he couldn’t forget that kiss. Not as long as he lived.
He’d lost his virginity at fifteen. Didn’t have clue one, but like most guys, his hormones had developed earlier than his brain cells. She’d been older than him. A twenty-three-year old single mom living a few doors down. When Pat’s mom asked if he could help their neighbor because she had a problem in the house she’d rented, he blindly felt like he’d passed into manhood. After helping her fix the window, she’d offered him something to drink. As a kid, and that’s really what he’d been, she was nothing but hot curves, full lips and sex appeal to him. She’d lured him without much resistance into her bedroom.
Aside from kissing a few girls and adventurous hands, he didn’t have any idea what to do. He also wasn’t expecting the sheer paradise he found between her open thighs. Nor did it last long, to her chagrin. They saw each other a lot, but only in the privacy of her home. She taught him how to touch a woman, what they craved. Then she broke his heart when he dropped by after school, thinking he was in love, and found her in bed with a guy her age. An early education didn’t hurt. Yet, every girl from her onwards offered him release, but had little effect on his heart.
Once he and Thane started hanging out, they attracted a variety of women. A lot of them wanted more than just pleasure. They wanted a future. In essence, they wanted the same thing. He wanted a life with the Navy SEALs, and the girls wanted a life with one, too. During Phase One and Two of BUD/S, they didn’t have much time off. They’d catch up on sleep and then hit the bars. Sundays were usually a write-off, getting ready for Mondays. His leave between Phase Three and SQT’s was like gold, but it was going too quickly, especially now that he’d met Marg.
He’d called her last night. Initially, she seemed a little nervous, but so was he. Just before they hung up, he asked what time he could pick her up. She didn’t pause when she said, I can meet you guys, as if she was just hooking up with friends. He could almost feel her smile when he fired back, When can I pick you up for our date, Marg?
Pat watched her approach and loved the confident sway of her hips. Not overly done. Nothing about Marg was over the top. She had a refined way of being the hottest fucking woman he’d ever seen. His pulse thundered the same as it had the second he’d laid eyes on her. She’d been a shock to his system when he’d opened the door of the restaurant and saw her.
“Good evening, Patrick.”
So formal, but he’d noticed that already about her. The way she spoke. Had to be her upbringing.
“Sorry.” He rolled his eyes. Why the hell did that come out?
“For?” She took a step back. “Oh,” she said, coming to the wrong conclusion. “You’re cancelling. Okay, well…”
“No.” He shook his head and palmed her arm. “I don’t have a car.” Shut up, dumbass. “Don’t think your neighbors are impressed with having a bike out front.”
“I like bikes. I mean, I like your bike,” she said, blushing at the same time.
He handed her the extra helmet. “Ready to get your spook on?”
She shrugged. “I don’t get scared easily.” She drew her long, beautiful leg across the saddle of the bike.
Again, the thought of seeing her laying back on his bike with only her boots on, struck him hard. Shake…it…off…man. What had she said? Doesn’t scare easily! He’d seen that the other night at St. George’s. While the other girls screamed and fussed, she kept it together.
He donned his helmet and lifted the visor. “Let’s test that theory.”
She laughed, and he loved the sound of it. Friday night traffic thickened once he got on the highway. He took extra caution weaving in and out of the lanes until he reached the cut-off to Old Town. The day belonged to tourists, but the night belonged to locals who frequented the bars and restaurants.
One of the historic homes had transformed into a Halloween thrills and chills adventure. The guys didn’t mind bringing the girls, especially one they wanted pasted up against them. He backed into a free space and shut the engine down.
Marg offered her helmet. “You don’t have to drive like a little old lady when I’m on the back,” she said, surprising him.
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “How should I drive?” He wasn’t sure if she was talking about the bike or something else.
“I like fast.”
Still didn’t answer his question. “Think your modeling agency would have something to say if you ended up on the highway,” he answered, locking up the helmets. She shrugged off his comment. Yup, there was a wild streak in the prim and proper gal raised in Beverly Hills. “How was your shoot today?”
She slipped her coat off. The October evening held a bite, but not enough for heavy jackets. When her arms stretched backwards, her breasts rose under the fitted sweater she wore. For the love of God, get your mind out
of her pants and off her rack. Was he even going to last the night before kicking the gentleman to the curb?
“Great, actually. I had a shoot with another model. He’s been—”
“He?” A worm of dislike slithered up his spine as they walked down the sidewalk toward the haunted house. Marg half naked and pressed up against a half-naked guy, didn’t sit right with him.
“He’s been in the industry a lot longer than me. I’ve had a few shoots where the models looked down their noses at me because I’m a newbie.”
“Kinda like us. We’re called ‘new guys’ and no one will give us an ounce of respect until we get our Tridents.”
Marg stood beside him while they waited for a car to pass before crossing the street. “Gary, this photographer I know, told me modeling is probably one of the most cut throat businesses to be in. I try not to show it, but the other models intimidate me sometimes.”
“They’re probably jealous.”
A bright smile lit her face and her eyes sparkled under the streetlamp. “Doubt that. Modeling is really important to them, besides they’re the real beautiful people.”
He stopped and gripped her hand. Was she for real? “I don’t think the agency would have hired you if they didn’t see what everyone else sees.”
She cocked her head in honest inquisitiveness. Being too verbose would get him into shit, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. He could easily imagine, not long from now, Marg would have a string of male groupies. He’d probably be the one to start her fan club.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. His chest clamped tight, his hands slipping to her waist, stopping her from moving away. His gaze swept to her lips. Full and natural with no lipstick or gooey shit all over them. She nibbled the right side of her mouth and that was his undoing. Gentle at first, he brushed her top lip. A shudder from her body soaked through his hands straight to his shaft.
Everyone darting around them on the sidewalk became a blur, their conversations only a hum against the cresting desire to kiss her. Excitement vaulted through his chest. Possessing her mouth with his own would release some of the savage tension. He clutched her to his pounding heart and branded her with a searing kiss.
Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5) Page 13