Hot SEAL, Single Malt (SEALs in Paradise Book 9)

by Kris Michaels

  "I grew up in a house where fingers were considered utensils. Eat and enjoy."

  Gunner did. He ate until he was uncomfortably full. It wasn't his intention when he came over here. Getting A.J. into bed had been the game plan, but the conversation and food were damn good.

  A.J. was funny and engaging to the point he looked up and noticed they'd been talking for thirty minutes over the empty plates. Her east Texas upbringing took his rough-around-the-edges self and made him feel comfortable, wanted and accepted. He leaned away from the empty shells in his bowl and lifted his Macallan in her direction. "A toast to the chef. That was an amazing meal."

  "Thank you." She took a sip of her wine and looked at him under her lashes as she lowered her glass. "I do have dessert."

  The look she gave him sent a delicious twitch to his cock. "I love desserts of all varieties, but..." He dropped his hand to his flat but hella-full stomach. "I need a couple minutes. How about we adjourn to the porch and listen to the water and visit for a while before we serve up dessert."

  With another one of those cock-stirring smiles, she nodded. He stood and held out his hand to her. She rose, and he took the opportunity to fold her into his arms, kissing her the way he’d wanted to kiss her when he’d arrived tonight. Her warm, sensual body fit perfectly against him, and fuck, the woman tasted like red wine and sin. Hell, he would definitely order her for dessert. He broke the kiss and held her against him.

  "This is nice." Her words were muffled, but he couldn't agree more. "I should take care of the dishes."

  "Let's just stack them in the sink, and we can worry about them in the morning." He let her pull away so he could see her face. The small amount of makeup she'd used made the green of her eyes more intense. She didn't need makeup, and he'd never seen her wear it before, so it had to be an effort made for him. He lowered and kissed her nose. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

  "No." She shook her head and continued to stare at him.

  "Well then, I'm a moron. You, Miss Amanda Jean, look exceedingly beautiful tonight." He watched her smile at his words.

  "I never liked that name." She stepped back breaking their embrace. She walked backward toward the sink, and he followed. Neither of them had dishes in their hands.

  "Why not. Amanda is a beautiful name." He pinned her against the counter, one arm on either side of her as he leaned down with his legs extended behind him, so he was more on her level.

  "Because my name isn't Amanda, it is Amanda Jean. Kind of like Billy Bob. You know us Texas people with two name first names." There was a definite flush to her face.

  "There is a simple solution for that. You're in California now. Drop the Jean. You can be Amanda Ericson. Nobody has to know." He dropped his lips to hers. "Amanda."

  "Isn't that like telling a lie?" She whispered when he pulled away.

  He shook his head and lowered for another kiss. He stopped a millimeter from her lips. "No, it isn't." He took her mouth with a little more force. The woman could kiss. Their tongues dueled until he needed to surface for air. By her gasp, A.J. was nearly as breathless.

  "I need to..." She grabbed both of his arms and took another breath "I mean...I need to stop...I need to do the dishes."

  Well, that was not what he expected. Surprised, he started to step away, but she held onto his arm. "I need to do the dishes before I climb that big, tall, hard body of yours and attack you like a sex-crazed maniac."

  He felt his smile spread across his face. Well all right then, that was better. "I'll help, and then we can revisit the climbing topic."

  "Lord have mercy." She mumbled the words under her breath as she slipped under his arm and headed to the small dining room table.

  Gunner blew out the candles as the last of the dishes were taken to the kitchen. They worked together to put the rinsed plates, bowls and utensils in the small dishwasher. Gunner refilled their drinks, and they floated out onto the porch. As much as he'd like to take her directly to bed, his meal wasn't settling as fast as he'd like. As a matter of fact, he must have eaten more than he realized. His stomach was not particularly happy with him right now. But, he had an iron gut. Too many deployments eating MREs had put an iron lining around his stomach. All he needed was a few minutes to let dinner settle and dessert could be served. He was really looking forward to what she had on the menu. The woman was turning into a never-ending surprise.

  He extended a hand and A.J. joined him in his chair, snuggling onto his lap. He propped his chin on the top of her head and stared out into the darkness. The sounds of the waves lapping the water made for a soothing background. They sat like that for several long minutes. Comfortable and content.

  "Have I told you that I like the way you hold me?" Her fingers ran up and down his forearm.

  He moved her a little, giving his stomach some space while he simultaneously tightened his grip, pulling her into his chest. "No. Have I told you that I like holding you?"

  She giggled. A real no-shit giggle. The innocence in that sound made his heart puff up and pound just a little harder.

  "I like whatever this is, Gunner. I hope you do, too."

  "I do." His stomach rolled, and he swallowed hard. A wave of nausea careened through his gut, and it wasn't silent.

  A.J. sat up, spinning to look at him. Gunner felt a wave of heat blast through him, then he started to swallow hard. He shook his head. Fuck, no, no, no! Launching out of the chair he upended A.J. and sending her stumbling toward the rail. He flew into the house and slammed the bathroom door behind him. It took less than ten seconds of projectile vomiting to render him a heap beside the toilet. The next three minutes lasted an eternity. Gunner fought back a tsunami of nausea to no avail. He grabbed the porcelain and let his body violently expel what felt like his stomach lining. And then...fuck, he tightly clenched his muscles praying as he fumbled with his slacks. Freeing the button and slamming the zipper down at the last second, he fell onto the toilet. He groaned as his stomach twisted tight, cramped, and...oh, God...please just kill me now.

  Chapter 13

  Disbelief drenched her as she stood on the other side of the door. She turned and looked at the kitchen and grimaced at the sound of Gunner as he was sick. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit! She ran to the kitchen and grabbed her cell phone off the counter and opened the browser immediately and typed: Can mussels give you food poisoning?

  Her hand flew to her mouth as she read the words of the first article. Oh my God! The opened mussels! They were bad. How was she supposed to know? The recipe didn't say anything about opened shells. Nothing. A low, miserable sounding moan originating from behind the bathroom door jolted her into action. She flew to the door and lifted her hand to knock. Another agonizing moan and then...oh no.

  The clenched fist perched precariously close to knocking dropped, and she stepped away from the door. How would you feel if someone knocked when you were...? A low, deep, pathetic sound reached her ears before she heard him retch again.

  He needs his privacy.

  But you need to make sure he's okay. You did this to him.

  Again.

  She hated herself more in that moment than she could have ever imagined. The toilet flushed again. What could she do? Gripping her phone so it didn't shake in her hand, she typed into the browser: What do for food poisoning.

  A.J.'s back hit the wall of the small hall outside the bathroom door, and she slid down, landing in a very inelegant heap. She scrolled through the medical pages. She suffered outside the door as he suffered inside. Why did this need to happen? What had she done to jinx this relationship? Had the stars and Mercury aligned, so the world crapped on anything that happened between the two of them? She wiped a tear away from her cheek. He'd been silent for a long time. She crawled to the door and sat down outside it before she knocked quietly. There was no response. "I'm so sorry."

  That got her a grunt. It was something.

  She lifted the phone as if he could see it and told him, "I think maybe some o
f the mussels were bad."

  "Really? You think?" Gunner's low, hoarse voice drifted from the other side of the door.

  A.J. flinched. Gunner sounded as if he sat on the floor just opposite her. She dropped her head back against the wall, and the tears of frustration fell. "I'm always apologizing to you for messing up. I didn't know the open mussels were bad. I'm so sorry." He had to believe her. She closed her eyes tightly, but more tears oozed out to trickle down her cheeks. "What can I do?"

  "Just..." A retching sound followed. She closed her eyes as he dealt with the results of her meal. It was several minutes before he spoke again.

  "Please, could you just leave. I know this is your house. Stay at mine, but, please...just...oh, God..." His misery seemed to be the ongoing theme of their relationship.

  A.J. wiped her tears and stood up. She could give him that, at least—a shred of dignity in a degrading and humiliating situation. One she took ownership of. She packed a small bag in less than five minutes and left a note taped to the door jamb of the bathroom telling him she’d gone to a hotel. The door jamb was the only place she could guarantee he'd see the note.

  He'd passed out on bathroom floors before. He wasn't proud of that fact. Too young and too much alcohol was the basis for a lot of shitty decisions. However, he had no words for this morning's agony. Rolling onto his back, he slowly opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly. He hadn't even turned off the light when physical exhaustion knocked his ass out. He lifted an arm and shaded his eyes. Fuck, his head felt like he'd drank a full bottle of Scotch by himself. He blinked up at the ceiling and as his gaze slowly lowered, his eyes rested on the bathroom door. It took him several seconds to piece together what he saw hanging on the back of the door. A white lace bra and panties hung on one hanger a lace cover-up on another. Fuck him. He could imagine A. J. in those pieces of lace until the morbid embarrassment of exactly what happened last night played out in his mind. Yeah, fuck him twice.

  He swallowed and cringed at the taste in his mouth. Every muscle in his body ached. Once when they were in Turkey, one of the guys in his unit landed a severe case of food poisoning. He had ended up in the hospital with dehydration. Gunner slowly pushed himself up. His stomach rolled to let him know it was still there. Damn good thing, because he was pretty sure he'd managed to expel it and a few other internal organs last night—like his lungs, liver, intestines...fuck, he'd never been so sick in his entire life.

  Weak and shaking, with a headache the size of the Pacific Ocean, he managed to lift himself into a sitting position on the floor. Light filtered in the bathroom's window curtain, so at least he'd made it through the night. It was touch and go there for a while. He remembered praying to the powers that be to just take him. Sooner or later he'd have to crawl out of this bathroom and face a woman he could have solid emotions for after almost dying in front of her toilet.

  Hopefully, A.J. had left, or at least he prayed she had. He wanted no living witnesses to the things that happened in this little five-foot-by-ten-foot room last night. Hopefully, she would stay gone until he gathered enough strength to get up and…hell...yeah, so getting up was about as far as his mind or body were willing to stretch for an immediate goal. Even achieving that goal was dubious.

  With single-minded determination, he pulled himself up onto the ledge of the tub. For at least thirty minutes, he and that ledge became fast friends. With a pat of thanks, he abandoned his ledge and pulled himself into a standing position against the vanity. Bracing himself against his next best friend, he concentrated on sucking air in and out of his lungs. Nausea lurked just out of the forefront, but if he moved faster than a slug, he'd be dry heaving again.

  He heard a door in the house slam open and heavy footsteps head straight toward the bathroom door. A hard, loud knock rang like a bell inside his skull. "Holy fuck, what?" That was a whine. Damn it, he fucking whined. His hands grasped at his ears as if he could muffle the sound that had already penetrated it.

  "Gunner, open the door, son." His father's voice held the “I'm not taking no for an answer” tone. He reached over and thumbed the lock. His father pushed the door open and gave him a once over. "Okay. I have my truck outside. We are going to the emergency room."

  "No, I'm okay." Gunner swayed and took a swipe at the vanity a split second before he crashed into his old man.

  "No, you're not. At a minimum you're dehydrated." His dad ducked under his arm and wrapped his arm around Gunner's waist. "You still nauseous? Can you make it to the truck?"

  Gunner leaned against his dad. "I can make it." They stumbled through the door and out the front of the house. His dad wasn't lying. His truck was on the grass directly in front of the front door. Grinding his teeth together to prevent nausea from taking over, he let his dad help him into the truck and put his seatbelt on. Like a baby. He kept his eyes closed, the sun alone was enough to make him hurl.

  The truck lunged forward, and Gunner slid down in the seat. "Why are you here? You're supposed to be in San Francisco."

  "We spent the night. Drove home at a leisurely pace and had lunch before I took her home and came back. A.J. was waiting on my step for me. The girl looked like hell. She told me what happened.”

  "I think maybe she's trying to kill me." His attempt at humor probably fell flat, but fuck it, the woman must have had some kind of subconscious need to make sure she witnessed him at his worst.

  Silas clucked his tongue like a mother hen. "She feels like shit."

  Gunner laughed and immediately grabbed his gut and sides. He felt like his ribs had gone a couple hundred rounds with Muhammad Ali during the man's glory days. "I know that feeling."

  "No, I don't think you do. She feels so bad she offered to sell back the shares of the Walrus to me." His father's anger at her offer was evident.

  Gunner risked opening his eyes. He squinted at his father. "Why the fuck would she do that? I know she didn't mean to..." Gunner pushed his arms out to his side, grasping his father. "Pull over!" He scrambled for the door handle before he finished his words. The truck slammed to a stop a fraction of a second before he flung open the door and extended out of the cab. His father's hand caught the back of his slacks and held on while his body dry heaved.

  Exhausted, he laid his head against the door handle. His dad pulled him back in and reached over him to slam the door shut. "I'm taking you into Redwood City. The Urgent Care is just going to send you there anyway."

  "Don't let her sell, Dad." Gunner couldn't let her do that. He wanted her to stay.

  "Didn't plan on it. I'll get her to come to the hospital so you can talk to her, okay?"

  "Yeah, after...okay? After." He didn't want her to see him like this. He'd been through armed conflicts, been shot—twice, stabbed once, and had even broken his ankle on a training scenario, but he'd never felt as weak and useless as he did at this second. This was not how he wanted A.J. to see him. Ever.

  "Why not now?" His dad's question made him cringe.

  "I want to be able to tell her it wasn't her fault without fighting the need to throw up or sprint to the john. Just tell her to give me a couple hours." The docs had to have something that would settle his gut down. "I want to see her. Tell her that, just—not now."

  Silas grunted his reluctant agreement. Silas thought he was making a mistake, but between a raging headache, constant nausea and gut-clenching episodes of...other bodily functions, he just couldn't care.

  His father's hand on his arm startled him awake. "Come on, son." His dad helped him into the emergency room. Thirty minutes later, lying down in a semi-comfortable hospital bed with two syringes, one for nausea and one for his headache, pumped into the IV currently hooked into him, he took his first relaxed breath in over fifteen hours.

  "You should have come in at the onset of symptoms." The doctor slid his finger along the edge of his tablet.

  Gunner barely opened his eyes. He was exhausted, but he managed a snort. "There was no way I was leaving that bathroom doc."

  The ma
n lifted his eyes from the electronic chart and blinked at him as if he'd just spoken Latin. Gunner let his lids fall. The world was feeling swirly. "What did you give me?"

  "Something to relax you and let you sleep. Let the other medicine do its job. Your body isn't too happy with you just now." The doctor's voice floated to him.

  "I need to talk to A.J." Mumbled, the sentence didn't sound as clear as it had in his head.

  "Who is A.J.?" The doctor's voice was farther away.

  Gunner tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He was so tired. "Mine. She's...mine."

  Chapter 14

  "Are you sure he asked for me?" A.J. trotted down the long hall of the hospital to keep up with Silas's loping strides.

  "Positive." He turned the corner and stopped momentarily looking right and left. "Here, this way." He motioned to his right and took off down the hall again.

  "Silas, is he okay?" She grabbed his arm and stopped the man.

  Silas glanced down at her as if he didn't understand her question.

  "Why are we practically running down the hall?" Her hand waved back and forth. "Is Gunner alright? God, did...did I...is he going to die?" Her heart stopped beating and her breath caught in her throat at the thought.

  Silas looked at her like she had four heads. "No, definitely not. He'll be just fine. Doc said he was dehydrated. Gave him some meds for his headache and to stop nausea. Gave him something so he could rest. They figure he'll be walking out of here tomorrow morning." He glanced at his watch and then to her. "Truth is, I'm expected somewhere in about an hour, but I wanted to get you here and settled before I head back to Half Moon Bay. I'm sorry if I worried you."

  A.J. let a little of the fifty-five-ton weight that had been grinding down on her slip away. He would be alright. She closed her eyes in silent prayer. Thank you. Opening her eyes, she squeezed Silas's arm. "I can find the room. If I get lost, I'll ask one of the nurses for directions. Go on. I'll be fine." Silas glanced from her to his watch. He glanced down at her again. "Go." She shooed him away.