Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2)

by Paris Wynters

  But it’s too late.

  “Oh, crap, no one told you.” Craiger laughs, shifting on the couch so he’s facing us. Poor, dumb bastard doesn’t even understand the danger he’s putting himself in. “Tony’s been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about why he joined the program, but I’m pretty sure I know why.”

  And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, which means I’m gonna kill him, because the last thing I need is more tension with Inara. It’s only fair that he knows what’s coming, so I growl low in my throat that’s only part desperation, but to Craiger it must have sounded like encouragement because he keeps going. He’s like Chatty-fucking-Cathy as soon as he gets a few beers in him.

  “The way I see it is, this moron must’ve lost a bet playing cards with the paratroopers—like he always does—and ended up signing up for the program. Always gotta prove how tough he is. Probably didn’t think he’d get accepted.” He chuckles uncomfortably, his gaze flittering from Inara to me and back again.

  Her lips part slowly and a soft scoff escapes from her mouth. Her hand comes to rest on the back of mine, and horror-movie, doomed-teenager slow, I turn my head to meet her eyes in the flickering glow of the television. My balls clench, determined to crawl up into my body.

  “Bedroom. Now.” She grits out the words, and I wince at the venom in her tone.

  I take my time carefully extracting myself from beneath Mason’s limp body before pushing to my feet. “Thanks so much for that great story. You really know how to help a newlywed out. I owe you one.” I glare at my former best friend before following my wife out of the room, my stomach plummeting with each step.

  Chapter Six

  Inara

  I rake my fingers through my hair and pace, trying not to hyperventilate. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I think I could start. Right here. Right now. Because I just found out that the man I’d been matched with as a life partner had joined the program after losing a round of poker. This is my life we’re talking about. My life that this idiot treated like it was some kind of fucking reality show game. Just when I was starting to think we’d actually have a chance together after the past week of sharing meals and discovering that beneath that flippant exterior, Tony is a thoughtful man in a lot of ways I’d never imagined possible, like cooking, and cleaning. I’d even caught him weeding the flower bed one morning.

  “Will you at least hear me out?” Tony is standing against the door, voice low, tone pleading.

  “What’s there to hear out? Was Craiger lying? Please tell me that’s the case.” A tiny, naïve hope flares in my chest. Maybe this is just an epic misunderstanding. Surely not even Tony would be foolish enough to sign up for a military program over a silly bet.

  That hope dies a swift death when Tony shuffles his feet and his head drops so his gaze is focused on the floor, brows furrowed as if trying to come up with an answer. “I mean, I wasn’t drunk. And there wasn’t a bet or anything. So technically speaking, Craiger is out ten bucks.”

  “ARGH!” I pick up a stiletto out of my closet and chuck it at the floor. “Technically speaking? What does that even mean?” I shake my head and try to think. “So, you weren’t drunk, and there wasn’t a bet? But that means . . . you did sign up on a whim.”

  He clears his throat. “I, uh . . . sort of, I guess.”

  “You guess. Are you saying you don’t even know why you signed up?”

  Tony licks his lips and opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, then huffs and closes his mouth, giving a helpless shrug instead.

  I groan. “Who does that? Signs up to get married as a lark? I can’t believe this is happening. Except, wait, I can. Because this is you we’re talking about. Master of juvenile behavior.”

  He winces at my harsh words, but I don’t care. I bury my face in my hands. Who am I kidding? This is my fault. I should never have expected a guy like him to take marriage seriously.

  Every morning when I sneak into the living room to find him ass up, face squished against a pillow, and drool pooling beneath one cheek, my guard comes down. With his fan of dark lashes and no devilish smirk to distract from his looks, he reminds me of a little boy. Or at least a more innocent, darker, and more handsome version of Mr. Clean. And that, combined with the cooking, suckered me into believing this whole thing could work out.

  I’m so stupid. So naïve. At this rate I really will end up like . . .

  I flinch. Nope. Not going there.

  Anger flares again. I welcome the hot flame in my chest by picking up another shoe from the floor of the walk-in closet and launching it as hard as I can into the carpet. The wedge bounces and skitters across the floor until it smacks the wall.

  Tony sidesteps and holds up both hands. “I know this sounds bad?”

  “You think?” Damn him. Damn. Him.

  And damn me. I toss my head, blowing a loose curl out of my face at the same time. Time for him to take some responsibility. Time to make the admission. I close my eyes and count to five while inhaling deeply, until I’m sure I can communicate without massacring my own shoes. “What do you think makes it sound bad?”

  “Does that deep breathing stuff really work?” He straightens to his full height when he asks the question. I mirror the motion and growl a curse, and he has the good grace to flush. He toys with a bottle of perfume on my dresser, ducking his head and glancing up at me through his lashes. “Look. I’m an idiot. We both know it because I don’t hide it. Hell, even Mason knows it, and he can’t even wipe his own ass without someone around for quality control.”

  I hesitate, the image of Mason and Tony curled up together on the couch whittling away at my anger because I’ve never seen that side of him before. With Mason, he’s a caregiver, a family man, a man capable of giving a shit, and that tempting little fantasy draws me in. I’m a fish on his hook. I want a family, kids, the whole shebang. Not even just one kid, but multiple. Growing up as an only child was lonely as hell. I want to give my kids built-in playmates. That way, if anything ever goes wrong, they’d at least have each other. I thought the program was my chance to get moving on that goal, but now I’m right back at ground zero. It’s almost cruel, the way Tony leads me into believing we have a real shot at a future together one moment, and then yanks the illusion away the next.

  My arms tighten around myself, a subconscious search for comfort. “You’re an ass. Half the battle is admitting the problem. But how am I supposed to make this work when I know you signed up as a joke?” The words make my stomach hurt. And then a horrifying thought enters my head. “Oh my God, did you even answer the questions correctly?” Because if not . . . that would explain sooo much.

  And would also mean we were completely fucked as a couple, because the program would have matched us based on false information.

  Tony gives an emphatic shake of his head. “No! I promise. I answered everything as honestly as I could.”

  His admission is not much, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. A tiny portion of the cramp in my lungs eases. Okay, he’d signed up as a whim. But it’s a done deal now. And maybe, if the committee matched us up, we still had a shot at making this work. However minuscule that shot might be.

  While I’m processing this new information, Tony edges toward me until we’re both inside of the closet. He’s eating up all the space, and I inhale the spicy scent of his cologne. He moves in as if he can drive his sincerity home with proximity alone. “Trust me, I need this situation to succeed. If we call it quits before the final meeting with the review board, I could lose my job. And I’d definitely be kissing my chances at Officer Candidate School goodbye.”

  I’d been staring sightless in the general vicinity of his chest, but after he speaks, my head whips back so I can look him in the eye, because I damned sure didn’t read that in the contract. “Is this another joke? Because if so, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

  He throws his hands up. “No joke, I promise. Believe me, I wish it was.” He glances aside and his
jaw clenches in an uncharacteristic way.

  This is another side of Tony I’ve never met. Brooding. Contemplative. Dare I say, thoughtful? Until today, I wasn’t sure he was capable of many modes beyond goofy and annoying. Part of me wants to reach out and lay a hand against the tense line of his shoulder, but I curl my fingers into my fist instead. He doesn’t deserve my comfort yet. He still has some explaining to do.

  Tony meets my gaze once more, his brown gaze blazing with determination. “Redding doesn’t believe I’ll be dedicated enough to make it as an officer candidate. And this is the yardstick he’s measuring my dedication against. So if I fuck this up, I’m out. I’ve been busting my ass to get this commendation. I need us to work. For a year. Then we can go our separate ways.”

  My pulse slows while my mind grasps for the significance of his revelation. Holy shit. His job is on the line if this marriage implodes? That’s too much pressure. On him. On me. On us. And then the second part sinks in. A year. He’s planning on asking for the annulment. Indignant anger burns my throat. Okay, so yeah, ever since I’d seen Tony’s name displayed as my matched partner on the official papers, I’d been questioning how I could possibly make this arrangement last. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t take his lack of commitment to me personally.

  Tears gather at the corners of my eyes. “What if I want to stay together for longer than a year?”

  Tony’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “We both know that will never happen but sure, if things are going great, we can figure it out then, okay?” His voice softens. “Look, I’m sorry to unload everything on you like this, but it’s gonna be okay. We’ll work it out.”

  He takes my hand tenderly in his, and this surprisingly sweet side of him does a number on my senses. The knot in my throat eases up. Meanwhile, his touch causes every nerve to dance along the length of my arm. “I promise, I’m taking this all seriously, even when it seems like I’m not. The team is my family. If I’m discharged, I don’t just lose everything I’ve been working for over the last few years, I lose them too.”

  I open my mouth to tell him he should have more faith in people he claims to consider family, that the others wouldn’t shun him just because he was no longer a SEAL, but their reaction really isn’t the point. Tony’s sense of self is tied to being a team’s guy. Without it, I’m not sure if he would even know how to belong with the others anymore, regardless of how understanding they may be. On top of that, being dishonorably discharged, especially after having such a prolific career, would follow him the rest of his life.

  Mierda.

  That’s a lot, right there. And there’s nothing like being weighted down under the additional pressure of his expectations. But I’m going to try my best not to let that show. Because right now, Tony knows who he is and what he wants. I don’t want to be the person who inadvertently threatens to make him lose that identity. Not when I willingly signed up for this program on my own. “Okay, fine. You need to make this work. I want to make this work. So looks like the two of us need to start trying to make that happen. Hey, what a novel idea! Putting some effort into making a marriage successful. Just know I’m not doing this just for you. I have some pride, and I refuse to be known from here on out as that pathetic woman who ended up with an annulment in under a month.”

  No, I’m not being completely candid with him, but why would I bare my soul right now when he just told me he planned on bailing when a year was up? I have my work cut out for me, on multiple fronts, but I have my ways. And an entire year to get Tony to change his mind. Good thing I’m stubborn.

  In the meantime, the last thing I want is for him to think I’ll jump to do his bidding any time he tells me a sob story. And now that I have some leverage over him to act his age, damn right I’m going to use it to my advantage because I want a real husband. “I know for a fact Jim will kill you before Redding can. And neither of us wants to deal with the guilt of what will happen to Taya emotionally if her husband gets locked up for your murder. But you need to meet me halfway, which means you need to take our arrangement seriously. Agreed?”

  His eyes narrow as a shit-eating grin splits his face. “What are you—?”

  Oh God. I’m so screwed.

  I inhale a slow breath and close my eyes for a second, then exhale and straighten my spine as I meet my husband’s gaze. “We need rules. Real rules. Not boner rules, although, okay, maybe there’s some overlap. Like, first of all, I want monogamy from the very start.”

  “Agreed.” He nods and then winks. “Especially since that implies there’ll be boners in your future. My boners.”

  I raise my eyes to the ceiling and glare. How? How did I get matched with him? “Second, I expect my husband to act like he’s married around the opposite sex. So nothing like what happened with that nurse.” I’m trying not to snap at him as my mind drifts back to that day in the hospital. “You know, the one you were spitting game at two minutes after you hit on me.”

  He stares at me and I spot the exact moment realization hits him like a smack in the face. His eyes grow comically wide and his mouth gapes. “That wasn’t—I wasn’t—”

  “I saw you.” If nothing else—aside from a glare that would have put a weaker man on the ground—my tone dares him to deny it again. “You used the same lines, Tony.”

  “Okay, so no flirting with anyone besides you.”

  He waggles his eyebrows and my fists clench, but I don’t know if I’m mad at him for still playing the part of the jokester . . . or at myself for allowing his warm brown eyes to suck me in. Just to be safe, I rip my gaze away from his. Before he can draw me any further under his spell.

  He crosses his arms and broadens his stance. “What else?”

  I clear my throat, consider telling him not to flirt with me either, and somehow, in the process, find my gaze drawn back to him. I look him up and down, slowly assessing the muscles hidden beneath his clothes. His eyes darken with flash of hunger. I lick my bottom lip, an unconscious invitation, and he sucks in a deep breath and looks away.

  I blink rapidly. What the hell? I’m practically going green light and he’s riding the brake. Not that I’m going to let things go further than that yet, but still. A girl has her pride. I take a step back, my arms folding across my chest, and swallow past the lump in my throat. If I’m going to persuade him he wants a real wife, I need him fully in the game. “I want a better ring.”

  Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I’ve never been materialistic, don’t even care about the plain gold ring the military gave us. But Tony needs something to do rather than something not to do.

  My husband takes a step back, eyes wide. “What?”

  I hold up my hand to make sure the gold band around my finger is visible. “This generic bullshit isn’t going to cut it. I’ll email you the link to the one I want.” This is all coming right out of my ass because I’d never even looked at rings before. But I keep going like the Energizer Bunny of confessors.

  “When I imagined getting married, I . . .” My throat tightens and, out of nowhere, my eyes grow moist. When I imagined getting married, I visualized something entirely different from the situation I find myself in now. I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like my mother, in a revolving door of marriages, but here I am, barely married a couple of weeks and already terrified that this partnership will end in a divorce. And after discovering the reasons Tony signed up, I’m even more frightened of letting my guard down with him. I’ve seen my mother’s hurt and disappointment over the years. I don’t want that for myself.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. There were no guarantees when I signed up for this. I rolled the dice as surely as if I’d been gambling in a Vegas casino. I’d just been praying that the house odds would work in my favor. But despite his shortcomings, Tony didn’t force my hand here. I joined the game all on my own. We both did. Now I owe it to both of us to see this relationship through. And maybe as time goes on, he’ll dismiss the idea of an annulment.

  But
I’m scared he won’t and that I’ll never find someone to love me the way Bear loves Marge or Jim loves Taya. If this experiment with Tony crashes and burns, I’ll have to lick my wounds and decide if marriage is even for me. I don’t want to be a sixty-year-old woman still falling in love at the drop of a hat and turning my life upside down on the off chance that the next “I love you” would be the one to stick.

  I wince at the thought of my mother and what she’d say about an annulment. Not because she’d get to throw that stone, but because she dreams of a family for me. I’ve seen her eyes light up when she talks about grandbabies. I swallow a mouthful of bile and close my eyes.

  Tony walks closer to me and brushes his fingers against my cheek. I flinch and start to pull away, but the wall brings me up short, and his fingers delve beneath the heavy weight of my hair to curl along the back of my neck. He urges me closer, and his warmth seeps into me, along with his delicious scent. I forget about my worries for a moment, instead focusing on the butterflies flapping in my gut like they’re trying to work their way out through my skin. And my hands are trembling. It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man and longer still since I’ve known this kind of anticipation. That’s probably why I’m acting like some timid virgin, leaning into his touch and parting my lips with a sigh. Okay. Maybe some of my body’s reaction has to do with Tony himself. There’s no denying that my husband is hot, especially now that he’s given me hints that there’s more to him beneath that cocky grin and obnoxious mouth.

  “Maybe we should get to work on making this marriage work right now?” he says huskily.

  A strange warmth suffuses my chest at his words, but I refuse to give in. Then his brown eyes lock with mine, studying every inch of my face and hesitating on my mouth, making it hard to breathe. His grip on my nape tightens along with something low in my belly. I exhale shakily and reach up to grip his wrist.