Operation K-9 Brothers Series, Book 1

by Sandra Owens

  “Come with me, baby,” he whispered into her ear. He slid his hand between them, his finger finding her sweet spot.

  A shudder traveled through her, one he felt each place their skin touched. “That’s it.” He let go, falling alongside her. Their harsh breaths mingled as they both tried to get air back into their lungs.

  “What just happened?” she said when she was breathing again.

  He lifted onto his good arm and stared down at her. “Everything.” He kissed her—claiming her—all the gentleness he’d felt earlier gone.

  “Everything,” he said again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Everything. Several days had passed since the night Jack had said it, and that one word still echoed in Nichole’s mind over and over. It held so much meaning, but what if she had put more significance into it than was there?

  Although he’d not said anything more to give her a hint of his feelings, it seemed as if things between them had changed. There was a new intensity in the air when they were together, and sometimes she’d catch him watching her. She had the impression there was something on his mind, but so far he was keeping his thoughts to himself. The curiosity as to what was going on in his head was so strong that she’d practically bitten her tongue more than once to keep from asking him.

  Maybe today he would clue her in. It was Saturday morning, and she was going to join Jack and his grandmother for their Saturday pancake breakfast. She was looking forward to meeting the woman who made cock socks for her grandson. That was one of the funniest things ever, and she wondered if his Grammie and Dirty Mary would have something today that would embarrass him. She hoped so, although she doubted they could top the cock sock.

  The doorbell rang, and Rambo’s chin hit the floor as he scrambled to get his feet under him to go find out who’d come to see him. Since she’d learned her lesson, she peeked through the eyehole to make sure it was Jack.

  “Hey, you,” she said after opening the door.

  She’d only left him a few hours ago, after spending most of Friday night with him. She had taken him to her favorite Mexican restaurant, and then they’d gone back to his house, ripped their clothes off, and had given rutting bunny rabbits a run for their money. He’d wanted her to spend the night, but she hadn’t wanted to show up to meet his Grammie looking like she’d not slept a minute because she’d royally gotten it on all night with the woman’s grandson.

  “You’re looking mighty pretty this morning, Miss Masters.” He grinned wickedly as he pulled his sunglasses down and peered at her over the rims, letting his gaze travel over her.

  “Such a charmer, Mr. Daniels.” Was there a man sweeter—and sexier—than this one? If so, she’d never met him.

  “Just speaking the truth, ma’am.”

  She eyed him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Standing in front of her was sex on two legs, and already knowing the things he could do to her, she wanted nothing more than to grab his hand and tug him along with her to her bed.

  He took a step closer, then leaned down until his mouth was inches from hers. “If I wasn’t afraid my Grammie would kill me for missing our pancake breakfast, I’d have you in bed in sixty seconds flat,” he said as if reading her mind.

  Then he wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her. Kissing Jack Daniels was her new favorite thing, and when his tongue invaded her mouth, she moaned. Too soon, he pulled away.

  “Let’s go before I decide Grammie killing me is worth getting us both naked and sweaty.”

  * * *

  “Grammie, this is Nichole Masters. Nichole, my Grammie, Elizabeth Daniels.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Daniels.” Nichole held out her hand to the woman who, with her white hair, wire glasses framing kindhearted blue eyes, and pearls around her neck, could be the poster child for what grandmothers should look like.

  “Call me Lizzy, my dear.” Instead of shaking hands, she pulled Nichole into a hug. “Don’t wait too long to marry him. I need great-grandbabies before I die.”

  “Ah...” Nichole glanced helplessly over her shoulder at Jack. He looked back at her with amusement shining in the eyes he’d clearly inherited from his grandmother.

  “Grammie, let go of the poor girl, and stop scaring her away with talk of babies.”

  The older man standing behind Jack’s grandmother snorted. “Good luck with that, son. She’s not going to stop until you give her one.”

  “Three would be nice, dear,” Lizzy said.

  Nichole gulped. She wasn’t even sure what her and Jack’s relationship was, but an image of a little boy up to no good with Jack’s eyes and boyish grin popped into her mind. Oh, thanks for that, Grammie.

  Jack put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Nichole, this is Harold Robinson.”

  “My beau,” Lizzy said, her eyes lighting up as she beamed at Harold.

  “Mr. Robinson, nice to meet you.”

  He shook the hand she held out. “The pleasure is all mine, dear.”

  “We got you a present,” Lizzy said, picking up a small gift bag from the table next to her.

  Jack groaned. “I was hoping you’d skip that little tradition knowing I was bringing Nichole today.”

  “Oh, it’s not for you, Jackie. This one’s to welcome Nichole to the family.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” She should have brought something for his grandmother. Flowers would have been nice. “Can I open it now?”

  Jack stared at the bag, suspicion in his eyes. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  “Hush.” Lizzy tapped him on the arm. “You’ll scare the poor girl.”

  He glanced at her. “Be afraid, Nichole. Be very afraid.”

  How horrible could a present from a grandmother be? Of course, this was the woman who’d knitted him a cock sock and had signed him up on a dating site, so maybe she should be afraid. She warily peeked inside, and not seeing anything resembling a family jewels warmer or worse, she reached in and took out a rose-colored organza bag. In it were two small brown bottles.

  “One is clary sage oil,” Lizzy said. “It’s good for enhancing the female libido.”

  Nichole blinked. Next to her, Jack made a snorting-choking sound.

  “The other is rose oil, which increases a woman’s sex drive.”

  “Seems redundant,” Jack quipped.

  His grandmother poked him in the ribs. “You can never have too much of a good thing.”

  “Ah...” Nichole was at a loss for words. Jack was right; little old ladies were not to be trusted.

  “Tried to warn you,” Jack muttered. “Grammie, I don’t think—”

  “There’s more.” Lizzy took the bag from her. She pulled out a small three-legged silver pot. “This, my dear, is a fertility ritual candle. It... Well, here, read it for yourself.” She handed Nichole a cream-colored card.

  Jack was entirely too amused, as was Lizzy’s boyfriend. The two men appeared to be barely holding in their laughter. As she silently read the card, she bit down on her cheek to keep from laughing. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt his grandmother’s feelings.

  All items used in the creation of this candle were cleansed with white sage. All of the crystals were also cleansed in moon water and the candle was born during the full moon. This candle is perfect for performing your fertility spell casting.

  “Well?” Jack said. She handed him the card, and after reading it, he snorted. “Really, Grammie. Moon water?”

  “There’s one more thing,” Lizzy said, ignoring him. She removed another organza bag, a lavender one this time. She handed Nichole a bag of polished rocks. “These are moonstones. They aid pregnancy and childbirth.”

  “Well...um, thanks.”

  “Have you given any thought to names for my great-grandbabies? If not, I have some ideas.”

  “Ah...”
r />   “McHottie! You’re here.”

  At Jack’s groan, Nichole glanced at the woman barreling toward him. She was rail-thin, had bright orangy-red hair, cherry-red lips, and blue eyeshadow. She wore leopard-print leggings, glittery silver sandals, and a black silk blouse with the top buttons undone. Large silver hoops dangled from her ears, and each of her fingers sported a ring. Her lined face attested to her eighty-something years.

  This had to be Dirty Mary. Nichole grinned. The artist in her loved every inch of the colorful, free-spirited woman. Nichole stepped next to Jack.

  “McHottie, hmm?” she murmured.

  “Don’t you dare start calling me that.”

  “Hot damn,” the woman Nichole assumed was Dirty Mary said, planting herself in front of Jack. “My fantasy in the flesh.” She reached for Jack’s arm and squeezed his biceps, then shot Nichole a mischievous grin. “Is he this hard”—she fluttered her eyelashes—“all over, sugar?”

  “What do you think?” Jack made a choking noise, and Nichole couldn’t help it, she laughed.

  “Mary, stop pawing my grandson.” Lizzy pulled Mary’s groping hand away. “Did you bring it?”

  “Got it right here, all warmed up for him.” She stuck her hand inside her shirt, then pulled out a small dark blue bottle.

  Jack’s eyes widened and he stepped back when she tried to hand it to him. “What is that?”

  “Goldenrod oil. Guaranteed to boost the male libido.” Mary held the bottle up to the light. “How does it work?” Her gaze fell to the zipper of his jeans. “Do you rub it on your—”

  “Stop!” Jack put his hands over his ears.

  It was all just too hilarious, and unable to hold back any longer, Nichole burst into laughter. The two ladies were a hoot, and that they could cause a strapping SEAL’s face to turn fire-engine red was an added bonus.

  “Not funny,” Jack grumbled.

  Oh, but it was.

  * * *

  After ordering something to drink while they waited for Deke and Heather to arrive, Jack shifted to face Nichole. They were seated at a table at one of Asheville’s sidewalk restaurants. A full moon hung low in the cloudless sky, not far from them a street musician softly strummed his guitar as his raspy voice sang a ballad, and next to him was a beautiful girl, making for a perfect summer night.

  “Grammie called this afternoon. Made me promise to bring you back next Saturday. Apparently, you’re her new favorite person.”

  Somehow they’d all ended up going out to breakfast this morning—him, Nichole, Grammie, Harold, and Mary. There had been much laughter at his expense, which he’d pretended to grump about but hadn’t at all minded.

  The way Nichole had quickly bonded with his grandmother and Mary had only solidified his conviction that he wanted Nichole past the expiration date he’d originally set in his mind. He didn’t want her to merely be a pleasant memory when he returned to his team. He wanted more...much more.

  “I love your grandmother. Both her and Mary are a riot.”

  “If you say so.” His grin betrayed the grumpy attitude he was going for.

  “Deny it all you want, but I saw you trying not to laugh all through breakfast.”

  He shrugged, unable to deny it.

  “When Mary asked our waiter for his phone number, telling him she was a cougar on the prowl for fresh meat, I almost spit out my coffee.” She grinned at him. “And you. Your coffee went down the wrong pipe. I thought for a minute that you were going to choke to death.”

  He’d thought so, too. “It was a close call.” Breakfast had been Dirty Mary Unplugged. Even their waiter—who’d miraculously managed to sidestep Mary’s questing fingers—had ended up laughing so hard that he’d been distracted, refilling Harold’s coffee cup until it overflowed.

  “That’s a beautiful song,” she said, her gaze on the street musician.

  “It is,” he answered, his gaze on her. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve her but felt like the luckiest son of a bitch right now.

  Their waiter returned with Nichole’s glass of wine and his locally brewed beer. That was one of the things he loved about his town, all the microbreweries putting out some damn good beers.

  After the waiter left, he lifted his mug. “To my gorgeous girlfriend.”

  “Oh, and who’s that?”

  “Dirty Mary, who else?” He smiled, loving that low, throaty sound when she laughed. “Silly girl. I mean you.”

  He’d hesitated to use the word, not sure if she was ready for the label, but he was. And wasn’t that a trip? A damn good one, though. If she was on the same wavelength as he, that was.

  “How many girlfriends have you had?” she asked.

  “Only one that was serious before you, the one I told you about. What about you?”

  “Well, you know about Lane.” She swirled her finger around the rim of her wineglass, and he suspected that being linked to Gregory embarrassed her.

  He took her hand, linking their fingers. “Yeah, we don’t have to talk about him. Any other boyfriends?”

  A soft smile curved her lips. “A few, but the only really serious one was my first boyfriend, Tate.”

  As she told him about her motorcycle-riding bad boy from high school who’d stolen her heart and then had died riding his bike, Jack tried not to be jealous of a dead boy.

  “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think I saw Lane as a way to recreate a time in my life when I was really happy. At first, he reminded me of Tate.” She shrugged. “Until he showed his real colors.”

  “That makes sense. You never had closure with Tate, never got to see what could be with him.”

  “Well, I was sure wrong about Lane.” Golden-brown eyes peered up at him. “After him, I decided I didn’t like being girlfriend material.”

  His heart plummeted to his stomach.

  “But for you, I’d like to give it another try.”

  His heart righted itself.

  “Great. That’s great.” That the best you can do, slick? In his defense, he was still struggling to recover from the freefall when he’d thought she was going to refuse the girlfriend label.

  He lowered his head until his lips were a breath from hers. “Really great,” he murmured, then claimed her mouth in a kiss that extinguished the world around them, and the only thing that mattered was her.

  “Get a room,” said a voice he recognized.

  Jack chuckled against Nichole’s lips. “Tell him to go away.” He reluctantly let go of her, sat back in his chair, and eyed Deke before turning a smile on Heather. “You pick this bum up on the street? I thought you were more discerning than that.”

  She laughed as she sat in the chair Deke pulled out for her. “He started following me, and when I couldn’t ditch him, I decided to feed the poor bastard.”

  “Hey,” Deke said, sitting next to her. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to this woman.”

  “True, that.” Heather softly smiled at her husband. “Hi, Nichole,” she said, waving.

  Nichole fluttered her fingers. “Hi, you two. Nice to see you both again.”

  “Still wondering why you’re hanging with this scoundrel.” Deke lifted his chin toward Jack. “No accounting for taste, I guess.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, apparently not.”

  When he got his own soft smile from his girlfriend, contentment settled in Jack’s soul. She put her hand on his leg, and he put his over hers. It was an intimate act, something couples did, and his insides melted into a soppy mess. But it was a mess he was good with, something that was still taking him by surprise.

  When the waiter arrived to take Deke and Heather’s drink order, she asked for an iced tea and Deke ordered a beer. After he left to get their drinks, Heather looked wistfully at Nichole’s wine.

  “That’s one thing I’m definitely going to miss,”
she said.

  Nichole’s eyes widened, and then she grinned. “Congratulations!”

  “For what?” Jack asked.

  Deke rolled his eyes. “Dude, are you really that dense?”

  “Apparently.” Then it hit him. “You’re pregnant?”

  “We are,” Deke said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  And who could blame him? Suddenly Jack wanted it all, too. The wife who looked at him as if he hung the moon, one he loved to pieces, the babies...all of it. He’d even erect a white picket fence around his house if that was what it took to make the dream a reality. And he wanted it with the beautiful, sweet woman sitting alongside him.

  Dinner was excellent, and the company fun. Jack really liked Deke and Heather and hoped they would continue to deepen their friendship. He could tell Nichole liked them, too, and they her. The girls had even exchanged phone numbers so they could make plans to meet for lunch one day.

  When they returned to his place tonight, he would ask her if she would wait for him when it was time to return to his team. He felt fairly confident that she would give him a yes, but there was a sliver of doubt there. Maybe waiting around for a man who might never make it home wasn’t her thing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I had a great time,” Nichole said as she followed Jack into his house. “Deke and Heather are a blast.”

  “Yep.”

  One word answers were all that she’d gotten from him since leaving the restaurant. He seemed preoccupied...or had she said something wrong? She hated thinking that. It was shades of being with Lane and wondering what she’d done this time. She’d promised herself she would never let a man intimidate her again, but she was feeling like that now.

  “Jack, if I did or said something wrong, how about you just spit it out instead of giving me the cold shoulder?”

  He stopped so suddenly that she plowed into his back. He turned to face her. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’re not talking to me. That’s exactly how Lane acted when I did something to piss him off.”