A SEAL's Pledge (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 3)

by Cora Seton

  “What will you do when you retire?” Samantha asked, accepting a cup and placing it on the table in front of her.

  Bertie, a jolly woman several years younger than Egan, answered for him. “We got ourselves a travel trailer a few years back, and we plan to see the country. We’ve been too busy up until now.”

  Samantha’s smile looked a little strained, and Harris remembered what she told him about her upbringing. Touring the country in a small vehicle probably didn’t hold the charms for her that it held for Bertie. Samantha held her tongue, however.

  The forge had distracted Harris, but as they walked back toward the truck a half hour later, alone except for the cameras, he couldn’t help focusing on Samantha again. As if they’d planned it, they stopped by the truck, Samantha leaning against it, and Harris standing in front of her. Despite the presence of the crew, he took both of her hands. “I miss you. Thought about you all last night.” There, that was better than he’d managed lately.

  “I thought about you, too.”

  Harris wanted to believe that, but she’d spent hours in Curtis’s company. He knew he should leave that alone, but he found himself asking, “How did it go? Last night?”

  Samantha looked away. “It went fine. But Curtis isn’t you.”

  Harris wanted to kiss her. Needed to kiss her. But with the cameras right there, he wouldn’t be able to get away with that. Instead, he tried to tell her with his fingers, squeezing hers, and with his gaze. Finally he said, “I need you.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “We have to be patient.”

  “I’m not sure I know how to do that.” He wasn’t being fair, but he wanted her to know that if it was possible, he’d be willing. “Remember before? Where we met this morning?” he whispered, and noticed the cameramen leaning in, pressing closer to record every word.

  She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  “Any time.” That was all he could get away with now, but he hoped she understood. If she gave him a sign—any sign—he’d meet her by the creek.

  Aching to touch her, but gratified he’d managed to smooth things between them a little, he swallowed down his desire and opened the door to the passenger side for her. He helped her in, touching her more than was necessary, and then reluctantly shut the door. As he climbed in on his own side, the crew got in behind them. They wouldn’t even have privacy during the ride back to Base Camp. Harris had never been tortured like this over a woman. All he could do was count the days, and pray he somehow won Samantha forever.

  They got home in time for dinner, but Samantha was far too distracted to think about eating. She filled her plate with the lettuce wraps Kai had made, and picked up a glass of water, following Harris out to sit on one of the logs around the empty fire pit, but once there, she only played with her food. When Harris had taken the hammer and tongs Egan had offered him and tried them out, his body had been as much a work of art as Egan’s metal gates. His biceps were sculpted, his shoulders bunching and releasing under his cotton T-shirt. She’d had to swallow hard against the ache in her throat, and another one deep inside her.

  Every blow of his hammer had made his muscles ripple in a way that reminded her of being alone with him—touching him. She wanted to touch him again. All of him.

  Sam thought about what he had said back at Roy Egan’s. That any time she wanted, he would meet her at the creek again. It was too big of a risk; she couldn’t jeopardize everything for a few minutes alone with him, but she wanted to. Badly. Surely that would wash away any trouble between them, along with her fears of who he might really be.

  Instead, she’d keep busy—and keep getting to know him. She needed to keep her head, for both their sakes. Still, her mouth was dry, her fingers ached to touch him and she had no idea how she would last twenty-nine days until she could announce her choice.

  When Curtis came to sit beside her on the log, Samantha let out a low sound of displeasure, then bit her lip as he scowled. “Did you have fun on your field trip?” he asked derisively.

  “I did. It was fascinating, especially watching Harris swing the hammer.”

  Curtis’s eyes narrowed, and Sam knew she was playing with fire making her preference so clear. But at the moment, she didn’t think she could continue this game. She wanted Harris, and she didn’t care who knew it. Why on earth hadn’t she put an end to this contest last night? She could kick herself for letting Curtis make her second-guess herself.

  “You spent the afternoon with Harris, so it’s my turn tonight,” he said.

  “Hell, no,” Harris spoke up. “We already said it’s my turn tonight. Stop trying to horn in on things.”

  “I don’t see how that’s fair. You get too much time alone with her, you’ll trick her into thinking that you’re the one she wants.”

  “I am the one she wants.”

  “That remains to be seen until the time’s up.” Both men were leaning forward, talking over her as if she wasn’t there. Samantha lost her temper.

  “I’m going out with Harris tonight,” she said. “That’s what we agreed to, and that’s what I’m going to do. Your turn comes tomorrow.”

  Curtis turned toward the nearest cameraman. “You all had better keep watching them every minute,” he said. “I don’t trust this guy farther than I could throw him, and while I could throw him pretty far, that’s still saying something.”

  “You couldn’t lift me off the ground,” Harris told him, setting his plate aside and dusting off his hands.

  “Like hell I couldn’t,” Curtis said, doing the same.

  Samantha had had enough. She stood up, her plate and glass in her hand, and went to sit near the other single women. She hated that she’d turned her back on Harris as well as Curtis, but she wasn’t going to participate in their game. For one thing, it would alienate both of them from the rest of the members of Base Camp, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  “Can I join you? I’m sorry for the commotion,” she said to the gathered women. She settled in next to Win on another log and set her plate in her lap.

  “Must be nice, having two men fight over you,” Avery said, a little sourly, Samantha thought.

  “I don’t find it fun. I know who I like, and I wish I could just be with him.” Again, she wished she’d made her preference clear the night before. What had she been afraid of? That Harris had been a sniper? Every one of the men here had a long career in the military. None of them were saints.

  Still, it was reasonable to spend a month getting to know a man before committing to him forever, she reminded herself.

  “Join the club,” Avery said.

  “What’s the deal with Walker?” Samantha asked her, ready to change the subject.

  “Yeah, what is the deal with Walker?” Win echoed.

  “I don’t know,” Avery said. “He doesn’t tell me anything. I thought after his grandmother began working with Nora on the curriculum they’re writing together, she’d change her mind about me. Nora told me at the wedding she thought Sue wasn’t as opposed to me as she used to be, but maybe Walker doesn’t know that. He hovers around like he’s interested, but he never asks me out. He never touches me. With Nora and Clay still on their honeymoon, Sue hasn’t come near the place. When she does, I’m going to confront her. I need to know once and for all if she’ll ever give Walker her blessing to care for me.” She shrugged. “But then I wonder if I’m making a fool of myself. Maybe Walker doesn’t care for me at all, and Sue is giving him an easy way out.”

  “He cares for you,” Savannah said. “That’s evident to anyone who looks at him. If something’s holding him back, it’s for an honorable reason.”

  “What about you and Jericho?” Avery asked her. “Are you two ever going to act on the passion that’s always smoldering between you? Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “I have no idea,” Savannah said, sounding so discouraged that Samantha wanted to pat her on the back and tell her it would all be okay. But she didn’t know Savannah, and she had
no idea if it would be okay. None of them needed to be lied to.

  “Oh!” Win cried out, half standing, as Curtis took a swing at Harris across the way. Boone and Jericho had already sprung up to push them apart.

  “That’s it,” Curtis said. “I don’t want him anywhere near me. I don’t want him anywhere near my houses. You find him another job.”

  “They’re as much my houses as they are yours,” Harris answered him. “I’ll work there if Boone needs me there. But if he doesn’t, I’ll be happy to move on.” He turned to Boone. “I want to build a forge. I’ll be studying with Egan, and it won’t be long before I can handle the horseshoes and any other metalwork we might need around here. When Egan retires, I’ll take over the jobs he’s got going. It’ll be an income stream for the community.”

  After a moment, Boone nodded. “That makes sense. You go ahead studying with Egan. The framing on the current house is done, right?”

  “Near enough,” Harris said.

  “If Curtis and Clay need an extra pair of hands, Sam will be there to help, anyway.”

  Samantha saw Harris’s face darken. She quickly stood up. “I’m not going to work on the houses either,” she said loudly, hardly believing she was being so bold when she was so new in the community. “I want to work in the gardens. That’s where my interests lie.” She lifted her chin and met Boone’s gaze. “Besides, you need to keep my time fair between Curtis and Harris. I can’t work with one and not the other.”

  Boone only hesitated for a moment. “You’re right, that wouldn’t be fair. I’d be glad to have you join us in the gardens.”

  Samantha let her shoulders relax. She met Harris’s gaze from across the fire pit and smiled. His expression relaxed, and the corners of his mouth turned up. He nodded.

  That was a step in the right direction.

  Chapter Nine

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  The next few days passed more rapidly than Harris could’ve imagined, but the nights seemed endlessly long. During the daytime, he spent most of his time over at the Egans’ place, learning his new skill. The work was hard, and sometimes his fingers felt so clumsy he thought he’d never get the hang of what Egan was showing him, but with each day his touch grew surer, and his repertoire of metalworking skills grew broader. Along with working at the forge, Egan was also teaching him more about horses. Each day, Egan gave him a quick riding lesson on the tracks around the property, during which he taught Harris about horse anatomy and what factors affected the fit of a horseshoe.

  On the trail, Egan would point out different conditions of the ground, and how they might affect a horse’s gait and its ability to hold on to a shoe. He pointed out what to look for on a horse’s hoof, and the shoe itself, when one got thrown. Along the way, he threw in every bit of information that crossed his mind, saying that if Harris was going to settle in Chance Creek, he needed to know about the landscape as well as horses.

  That was a lesson Harris had learned many times over during his time with the SEALs. The landscape was everything. The animals and people that inhabited it were shaped by it in all aspects. Most people never realized that, but once you did, you were far more able to predict people’s movements, and that anticipation could mean the difference between life and death.

  He was a quick learner, and he knew that made Egan feel proud. “Always wanted a son to take over for me,” he said once, “but the Lord didn’t see fit to give me one. Now here you are.”

  Harris didn’t like to admit, even to himself, the comment had thickened his throat. He’d had to clear it a time or two before he’d been able to speak. “I’m glad to be here,” was all he managed to say. It’d been enough. Egan’s nod had told him that.

  He enjoyed Bertie’s company, too. She was such a cheerful woman, and she was always happy to have someone to talk to. Harris told her all the latest gossip from Base Camp, and she admitted she watched the show every week on television.

  “Glad to hear it, ma’am,” he told her. “That’s the reason we’re doing the show. So that people can learn from us.”

  “I think what I’m learning is that it’s dangerous to have so many single men in one place,” she said with a big laugh.

  “You think Base Camp is bad,” Harris said. “Try being in the military.”

  Tonight it was his turn to take Samantha out again, for which he was grateful. The nights she went out with Curtis were even longer than the rest of them. And they were all long. He lay in his tent wound up tighter than a bowstring, with no relief. He kept waiting for that sign, but Samantha never gave it to him. When he pressed her, she whispered it wasn’t safe. She couldn’t put everybody in jeopardy over her desire to be with him. He told himself to be grateful she wanted to be with him at all, but it was hard to keep his frustration in check. Until she’d made her announcement at the end of thirty days, he’d be wound up no matter what happened.

  Deciding to focus on one day at a time, he had made reservations at a restaurant in town, so at least they would be away from the others. Delmonaco’s was a busy restaurant that served a killer steak, and was always hopping on a Friday night. Surrounded by the camera crew, it was hard to see the rest of the patrons, and when he did glance their way, it was to find most of the other diners staring back at him. Harris tried to focus on Samantha, instead.

  When they had ordered, he took Samantha’s hand across the table. “How goes the gardening?”

  “I love everything about it. I’m learning so much; Boone is a whiz at this.”

  “From what I’ve heard, his parents kept a big garden. He grew up with it, but all the sustainable stuff he’s learned on his own. He’s been on fire for it for years.”

  The waitress appeared with their salads. “Enjoy.”

  “Tell me more about your family,” Harris said. Renata had given him a nudge earlier in the day to ask the question, and while normally he hated to do anything she said, he figured it was harmless. They’d already gone over some of that ground the first day they’d met. In truth, he was interested in the family that he hoped to stay married into. He vaguely knew the band her parents and sister played for, but it had never been one of his favorites. He was more aware of the controversy they sometimes kicked up when they joined environmental protests.

  Samantha sighed. “My parents both joined Deader Than Ever before I was born,” she said, and he realized she was talking to the cameras and must have understood it was time for her to explain more about her past. “They’ve always been passionate about music, and about protesting. The band champions all kinds of causes. Everything from racial equality to environmentalism.”

  “How do you think they’ll feel about your joining Base Camp?” he asked. Another line he’d been fed by Renata.

  “They’ll hate it.” She smiled and shrugged at him.

  “I don’t understand. If they’re environmentalists, won’t they support what we’re doing here?”

  Samantha shook her head. “It’s not about what we’re doing here; it’s about who’s doing it. My parents hate everything about the military. They hate war, and they feel like having a large military causes more problems than it solves.”

  “Is that the way you feel?” They were trespassing on dangerous ground. Harris hoped they weren’t stumbling into a fight.

  “Honestly? I don’t know the answer to that question. I mean, I don’t know if having a big military leads to more problems, or vice versa. What I’ve learned since I’ve been here is that all of you had the best of intentions when you joined the military. None of you did so to cause problems; you did it because you thought you would be able to solve them. And that’s the same reason you joined Base Camp. I admire that. I’m here for the same reason.”

  “Do you think your parents will understand that?” He squeezed her hand, willing her to understand that no matter what the differences in their backgrounds, he wanted to be with her. In fact, he was ready to be done with the conversation and cut to some serious fooling around. That wasn’t on the table ton
ight, though.

  “No, I don’t. All they’ll see is the ways in which Base Camp resembles a military outfit. Face it, Base Camp has a definite hierarchy. Boone’s on top, running everything. We women are on the bottom, taking orders. My parents will hate that.”

  Harris leaned forward. “What about you? Do you hate that?”

  “I’m okay with it, for now. I’m assuming that someday this dictatorship will transform into a democracy, but I don’t hear you guys talk about it much.”

  Harris took a bite of his salad to give himself a moment to form an answer. “The thing is, a dictatorship makes it easy to get stuff done quickly. We all understand that, having spent years in the military. I know it’s not that palatable for civilians, but it works.”

  Samantha leaned forward, too. “But it can’t last. There has to be a way that Base Camp can grow and mature into a democracy.”

  Harris nodded. “Of course.” He stabbed another forkful of lettuce. “Do you think your parents’ way is better?” It wouldn’t surprise him if she did. Families had a strong influence.

  Samantha sat back, and in doing so slid her hand from his. Harris missed its soft warmth. “No, I don’t think their way is better. All they do is sing. And protest. They never get their hands dirty, they never do anything real. What’s changed in their lifetime? They’re still singing. People are still polluting, still consuming far too much, still filling their landfills with crap.” As if suddenly realizing her words were being recorded, Samantha shut her mouth with a snap and bit her lip. “The salad is wonderful,” she said suddenly. “What do you think is going to happen with Savannah and Jericho?”

  Knowing she was hoping to provide the camera crew—and Renata—with something more interesting to focus on than her family, Harris took the bait. They analyzed the situation between Savannah and Jericho for a number of minutes, coming up with more and more outlandish reasons for why the couple kept apart when it was so obvious to everyone they were interested in each other.