“And he’s got a release date for the memoir he edited.” Del’s obvious pride made Spencer warmer than the beer. “You guys should come to the DC reading.”
Spencer loved Del making plans for the two of them, inviting his friends along, but what he really wanted was what these guys had—a shared place together, shared future, shared life. And that was coming. He knew exactly the direction he wanted his life to take, and his hand trembled on his beer bottle with how very much he wanted Del to agree. Fun as this was, Spencer couldn’t wait to get Del alone afterward, and really talk.
* * *
Del loved hanging out with his friends, but he couldn’t wait to get Spencer back to the hotel. Wes and Dustin’s happiness was contagious, and something about how right they were together made him even more aware of what a good thing he and Spencer had going too. He wanted to be like that a few years from now—all free and easy with inside jokes and a shared history.
Wes and Dustin were lucky enough to get to work together, but Del didn’t mind the separations from Spencer as much as he had at first. They had a good rhythm going now of saving up time off to spend together, and Spencer doing all his traveling while Del was deployed so that they could spend more time together. And he liked that Spencer had his own life, his own projects keeping him busy. Made it easier to focus in the field.
“You pick the best hotels,” he said happily as Spencer let them into their room. It was a swanky little place in Dupont Circle, not far from Wes and Dustin’s Georgetown condo. A large king-size bed dominated the space, which was decorated in shades of gray with pops of reds. “Reminds me of my truck. In a good way.”
“I aim to please.” Spencer pushed him in the direction of the small-yet-lavish bathroom, which had a cool glass-enclosed shower. “And you complained all last week about water pressure at the training site, so I figured you’d like this place.”
“I do.”
“Now, you enjoy all the hot water you want, and I’m going to—”
“I’d rather enjoy you,” Del growled, unbuttoning Spencer’s pale blue dress shirt. He loved all sides of Spencer, but Spencer in business wear might just be his favorite. And getting Spencer out of business attire was the most fun of all. “Come on, get wet with me.”
“Okay, okay.” Spencer gave up his token protest in favor of helping Del get naked. He hadn’t been lying about the water pressure and temperature being glorious, but it was Spencer pressed against him that was truly what he’d been missing. They kissed and jerked each other off until the water finally ran cold and then they wrapped up in the cozy bathrobes the hotel provided and snuggled in the bed while watching a late-night news program.
“This is perfect,” he said, kissing Spencer’s temple. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Good.” Spencer stretched so they could kiss for real, and already, Del’s cock was stirring, dreaming of round two. But then, Spencer added, “But speaking of places we’d rather be, I want to talk to you about something.”
Uh-oh. This sounded serious. A trickle of dread raced up his spine. “Yeah?”
“Well, I was going to just do this, but we said we’d talk about all big life decisions, right?”
“Right,” Del said slowly, still not sure whether he was gonna like where this was headed.
“I want to sell my LA condo, get one in San Diego, switch to being based out of there. It would mean we could see each other even more, not as many long drives.”
“I don’t mind the drive. It clears my head and that place was your parents’—I don’t like the idea of you letting it go for me.”
“I would be happy—delighted—to sell it for us. So that we could find something in San Diego we both like. Real estate in Los Angeles is ridiculous. If you really don’t want me to sell it, I suppose I could rent it, but Del, I really want to do this. I want a place that’s ours. A home.”
“Ours, huh? So like you want me to live there too?”
“If you want. If getting off-base housing permission isn’t too awful.” Spencer managed to sound indifferent, but Del could see in his eyes how much he wanted this. “I thought condo shopping together might be fun. You can weigh in on shower size and water pressure and I’ll handle checking out the kitchen.”
“Hey, now, I cook sometimes too. You liked the casserole I made you from Mom’s recipe.”
“I ate the casserole you made, yes. And far be it from me to say anything about one of your mom’s recipes.” Spencer laughed, but it was a little unsteady. “What do you think? Good idea? Bad idea?”
Del put him out of his misery. “Good idea. The best. I’d love coming home to you.”
They kissed then, a long, deep one full of promise and hope. Spencer pulled away, breathing hard. “So...how does getting permission for off-base housing work? Is it easier if we’re married? Because—”
“Spencer.” Del groaned.
“What?”
“You do not get to propose when we’re half-dressed, in bed after sex, and as a matter of convenience.”
“Sorry.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and hurt. “Too soon, right? Sorry—”
“No. Not too soon.” Del tackled him so that he was pinned to the bed, Del straddling him. “I’m just saying, Spencer, I need a better story for Mom. And our friends. You’re the romantic here. Give me some romance beyond ‘and the base might like it better.’”
“So that’s not a no?” Spencer was adorable when he went all hopeful.
“It’s not a no.” Del kissed him. “But I think we both deserve a real proposal.”
“Fair enough. So, if I ask sometime soon—in a suitably romantic fashion, Chief Picky—you won’t turn me down?”
“I won’t turn you down.” Del kissed him tenderly. “I might even write you a bad poem all about it.”
“I love your poetry.” Spencer returned his kiss. Del had finally let him see his notebooks, and Spencer had reacted with wonder, not laughter. It made Del love him all the more, feeling like he could share every part of himself with Spencer and it would be welcomed and loved.
“I want a future with you. A home. A big celebration with all our family and friends. I want it all.”
“I want that too. More than I can ever say.” Spencer stretched to kiss him, all need and hope and hunger. Del’s cock was starting to get hopeful too, and he was rocking against Spencer when he pulled away, laughing. “Tell me you don’t want one of those horrible public jumbotron proposals at a sporting event?”
“I want the one that comes from you. The one that comes from your heart.”
“You’ve already got my heart,” he said softly, looking up at Del with big eyes. “It’s all yours.”
And that right there was all Del wanted, all he could ever ask for. Sometime soon, Spencer was going to ask for real and he was going to say yes, and they were going to go condo shopping, but all that was bonus. All he’d ever wanted was Spencer’s heart, the whole thing, no holding back, and now that he had that, he knew the future was theirs for the taking.
* * * * *
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More books are coming in the Out Of Uniform series from Carina Press, including Rough Terrain, book seven, which will be Rooster’s book!
Author’s Note
As always, I tried to be as accurate as possible in my depictions of military life. For reporters like Spencer, getting embedded can be challenging, and Special Forces assignments are indeed super rare. I’m indebted to the great firsthand accounts from embedded reporters and would like to acknowledge that some reporters have lost their lives in the effort to bring us stories from the front lines. I write a lot about military families, but I am also grateful for all the sacrifices made by journalists and their families in their quest
to bring us the news. Some liberties were taken into how much access Spencer might have while embedded—my research showed that this can vary greatly from assignment to assignment. Also, change in rank ceremonies, like Bacon’s promotion to chief, are a big deal in the military and how the ceremony is handled can vary from base to base. Some liberties were taken with the timing of the ceremony, and I’m grateful to the military for making videos of some ceremonies available online as well as firsthand accounts from families and service members. Any inaccuracies or misrepresentations are solely my own. Thanks to the military and special forces boards and blogs that do an amazing job providing information about special forces and the lives of the people who serve. I’m so grateful to those who have anonymously given me their input as well as to those who provide a voice and platform for service members and their families.
Acknowledgments
Layla, Edie, and Wendy all read early versions of this book, and their insights were absolutely invaluable in helping me achieve my vision for this story. My sprint groups and writing buddies keep me on track with sprints, and I love you all for it! My editor, Deb Nemeth, really helped me to go deeper into Spencer’s conflict and motivation, and the story is far richer for her insights. My team at Carina Press is so appreciated—the editors, proofers, publicity, marketing, and cover teams have all been incredible with their support for this series. Thank you, guys, from the bottom of my heart. I couldn’t do this without you. My family has been a rock of support, and my husband’s insights on military life continue to enrich the series. My Facebook fan group, Annabeth’s Angels, is another source of support and I am so grateful to every reader who has reached out to me about the series—your notes, reviews, shares, mentions, likes, and comments are all so appreciated and you keep me going on hard days. I have amazing readers, and I treasure each of you.
Available now from Carina Press and Annabeth Albert
When a SEAL medic inherits three children, he struggles to cope with his changed reality along with an unexpected attraction to the children’s honorary uncle.
Read on for a preview of Squared Away, book five in Annabeth Albert’s Out Of Uniform series.
Six years ago
“I’m going to do it.” Isaiah’s voice was full of confidence he wasn’t entirely sure he felt as he tugged his friend Bree into an enclave off the main ballroom. “By the end of the night, no more V-card.”
“You’re going to lose your virginity at your cousin’s wedding?” Bree didn’t sound so sure. “No offense, but is anyone here even playing for your team?”
The large ballroom swirled with people in fancy clothes, suit porn everywhere for Isaiah’s viewing pleasure. His cousin Cal having his wedding at a hotel and spa renowned for its wines when Isaiah couldn’t drink yet was all kinds of cruel, but all the hot guys more than made up for it. And true, most of the guests were Cal and his bride Danielle’s age or more like parental types and other gray-haired relatives. But Isaiah had been scoping out potential targets all night.
He was determined to not let this opportunity slip away—prom had come and gone, graduation too, and here he was, still a virgin. Prom night had been fun, going with Bree and the rest of the gang as a group, and he wasn’t going to regret going to the school-sponsored “safe” graduation party to satisfy Aunt Cecily, who was Cal’s mother and had largely raised them both, but damn he was ready for some action.
And not the fumbling around he’d done with Jimmy Sanders last summer. He wanted real, honest-to-god, sweaty, full-on-naked, loud sex. And he knew exactly where he was getting it.
“Him,” he said to Bree, jerking his head in the direction of the bridal party table he’d just escaped from. Everyone was still milling around, finding their seats and greeting people, and there were only so many congratulations for Cal that he could stand through. Besides, he’d needed to find Bree, tell her his big plan. He narrowly avoided the temptation to point. Bree would know exactly who he meant anyway.
Predictably, she gasped. “Mark? Danielle’s brother? Have you lost your mind? He’s so out of our league that I’m not sure we’re allowed to share his airspace. Isaiah, he’s a SEAL.”
“Exactly.” Isaiah grinned at her. Mark had opted for a gray tux like the rest of the wedding party, not his naval dress uniform, which was a shame as far as Isaiah was concerned. There was nothing quite like military eye candy. But even in a tux, Mark cut an imposing figure. Caramel-brown hair, the sort that seemed to have dozens of shades dancing around, cut close. Taller than Cal, with a swimmer’s build—wide shoulders, slim frame, long torso and legs, and muscles that weren’t as jacked as some SEALs that Isaiah had seen around town, but still mighty darn impressive.
And he was older, twenty-two or twenty-three now, not quite as old as Cal and Danielle. This wasn’t the first of Cal’s friends Isaiah had crushed over, but most of those fantasies died quick, brutal deaths when the guys treated him like some annoying gnat of a kid. Mark was different. All week he’d been around, helping with the wedding prep, which meant lots of hanging with Isaiah, Cal, and Danielle and the rest of the wedding party, and he talked to Isaiah like he was people, asked him about college, like Isaiah had much choice there—his professor dad meant he was going whether he wanted to or not, but Mark acted like his preferences about career paths mattered. Best of all, he laughed with Isaiah, not at him, and his laugh was low and musical and enough to make Isaiah half-hard.
And he was a SEAL. Growing up with Coronado just a half hour away, Isaiah was used to military guys, but it was only in the past year or so that he’d added being the filling in a SEAL sandwich to his life goals. And okay, Mark wasn’t exactly a hot threesome after a night of clubbing, but Isaiah was also a realist. Those dreams would have to wait. But this one? The one where he and Mark had a hot wedding hookup? That was totally on.
“Are you sure he’s into guys?” Bree asked, straightening her shimmery pink dress. It was the same one she’d worn to prom—her mom had made her promise to get the second wear out of it. “Because if you’re wrong, he’s a SEAL. Those guys know a dozen ways to kill you without leaving a trace.”
“I’m sure.” Isaiah wasn’t lying. Mark was into dudes, at least somewhat. And unfortunately, it wasn’t how he looked at Isaiah with those kind hazel eyes that revealed his inner truth—it was how he stared at Cal when he thought no one was looking. And Isaiah knew that unrequited look all too well. Mark gazed at Cal like his sister had swooped in and stolen the puppy he’d wanted for himself and he had no idea how to snatch it back.
Well, too bad for Mark, Cal was oblivious. And not the least bit gay or bi. But luckily, Isaiah figured he was quite the consolation prize. He’d help Mark forget Cal, get rid of his pesky virginity, and wake up sore. Everybody wins.
The emcee signaled for people to take their seats for dinner, forcing Isaiah to head back to the bridal table since he was one of the groomsmen like Mark. Not the best man, and that had stung a little, Cal choosing a college friend, claiming he’d throw the better bachelor party. Fuck that noise. Isaiah had grown up with Cal. That should count for something. And Danielle hadn’t even had the grace to sit him next to Mark, instead surrounding him on both sides with two sorority sisters of hers who talked around him like he wasn’t even there.
But then the best thing happened as his eyes caught Mark’s down at the other end of the table. And Mark smiled at him, a sympathetic quirk of the mouth, like he too wanted to escape his dinner companions. Isaiah loved Mark’s smile, loved how it made him feel like they were partners in crime or something, even if they were just out on a tuxedo shop run or other errand together. And right now, that smile was everything as it gave him hope that maybe his plan could work.
The key was going to be catching Mark alone. Finally, after the dinner, and the interminable speeches, and the start of the dancing when he had to watch Mark dance with two different bridesmaids, he watched Mark slip outside, heading
into the historic gardens that ringed the ballroom. He gave him a few moments’ head start, then snuck off after him, catching up to him on a brick path near a stone grotto.
“You looking for a place to smoke?” He didn’t bother trying to sneak up on Mark—the guy’s well-honed senses had probably been aware of him since before Isaiah’s feet left the patio. Sure enough, Mark didn’t look all that surprised to see him.
“That’ll kill you slow.” Mark gave him a stern look. Darn. That had seemed like a good opening—all the military guys on TV seemed to smoke when stressed. “And don’t even ask if I can get you something from the bar—I already promised Cal I wouldn’t.”
“Cal doesn’t want me to have any fun. And it’s not fair. He and Danielle party all the freaking time.” Isaiah still wasn’t entirely sure what Danielle’s job was beyond professional socialite, always dragging Cal to this or that event, where they’d come back trashed in the wee hours of the morning. Mark should be more concerned with Cal’s liver than Isaiah’s lungs.
“You’ll have plenty of time for it when you get to college. And just take it slow, yeah?”
Slow was most definitely not what Isaiah wanted. Fast. Hard. Reckless. He wanted all that and more with Mark. But what he needed right now was a way to get Mark to stop sounding so much like a big brother. Music filtered out from reception.
“We should dance.” He gave Mark what he hoped was a winning smile.
“Dance?” Mark’s eyes bulged like Isaiah had suggested a cockroach-stomping competition.
“Yeah. I saw you teaching that bridesmaid Heidi how to waltz. I want to learn too. Unless you’re too chicken to dance with a guy?”
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