SEALed With a Twist

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

  “I heard that!” the lady in question yelled out.

  “We good then? Ready to kiss and make up?” Grant jibed, ignoring Quinn. “Or make out?”

  Finally, that got Jasper to smile. “Asshole. We’re good for now. But only because it’s my honeymoon.” He snagged the empty bowl from Grant’s hand and turned to put both in the sink. “I’m far from done with you.”

  “Perish the thought.”

  That got him a raised, curious brow, and Grant realized he’d repeated Skye’s dry jab from the night before. The memory of her high-brow attitude in Bermuda shorts and a golf shirt made him smile. Shit, that woman could make a steel rod feel inadequate.

  He really liked that about her.

  Quinn waved her white napkin as she reentered the kitchen. “Permission to enter the field of battle?” She added her bowl to the pile and sidled up under Jasper’s raised arm.

  “Granted,” Jasper replied, settling his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close so her front rested against his side.

  Grant decided to lighten the mood. That was his gig, after all. “Quinn, darling, please tell me you didn’t let this thug convince you to waste the whole day babysitting me.”

  “Only the morning, Trouble. You know how Jasper hates to put things off.” She smiled up at her husband. “Besides, we’ve got the rest of our lives together. You boys only got the weekend. Which is why you’re having dinner with us at the new gastro pub that got raised up out of the old dive bar. It’s called the Twisted Pelican, so you should feel right at home.”

  “Nice.”

  “Owner’s a wonder in the kitchen. I’ve got a few gigs set up there next month, so I’m ready to check the place out. And tomorrow is beach day all around.”

  “I got you that pleasure cruiser so I don’t have to be front-row center to this nauseating love fest,” Grant groused.

  “Didn’t think that all the way through, didja?”

  Out of nowhere, an image of his naked debutante maid flashed in his head. Now he knew who she really was, it was time to find another piece to her puzzle. “Can I bring a friend?”

  “A female friend? You have a female friend here?” Quinn asked.

  “He’s been here for 24 hours,” Jasper said. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have twelve.”

  Grant held up both hands in mock defense. “What can I say? Effortless charm is my curse to bear.”

  The corners of Jasper’s mouth twitched. “It’s a curse all right. Not sure it’s yours.” He gave Quinn a squeeze. “Let’s go, sweetheart. We’ve got a honeymoon to start. And Twist is way past the need to get dressed.”

  “Text me when you’re done…honeymooning for the day and I’ll meet you,” Twist agreed.

  “Along with your female friend?”

  He grinned and, for a moment, it didn’t feel faked. “My effortless charm practically guarantees you’ll see her there.”

  Chapter Five

  Bliss.

  This was bliss.

  Toes dug deep in the warm sand, propped up on bent forearms, Skye tipped her chin to the heavens and released a deep breath.

  Six months here at Mimosa Key and this was only her second—no, third trip to the beach. But even now, Skye found it hard to allow herself to relax. Having time for herself was not one of the perks of being raised in privilege. She was constantly monitored, rigorously scheduled. Luncheons, home visits, charities, functions…nearly every minute of her day had some demand put on it.

  Pulling out her ear buds, she tilted her face into a soothing breeze and listened as the soft waves of low tide broke against the shore. Let the water’s consistent rhythm of ebb and flow fill her head space and seep into her bones. Time passed. Her breath paced to the waves. Gulls whined on the breeze, yapping away as they swooped above the sea foam, their cries mixing with the calls of the children playing at the ocean’s edge further down the beach.

  Freaking gulls.

  But it wasn’t the gulls who were harshing her mellow.

  Annoyance gurgled in her throat. Her eyes popped open and she glared up into the flawless blue sky. Designer shades kept her from being blinded by the bright sun, but she squinted anyway as she sat up.

  Dammit. It wasn’t working.

  She felt anything but blissful.

  And she knew where to lay the blame for that too.

  After Grant’s rejection, Skye took her tattered ego and slinked home to her much less luxurious rental at Hibiscus Court. It was meant to be short-term and looked it, far from what her family was accustomed to commandeering. But it at least was hers, rent paid with money she’d earned from her own hard work. There was pride in that Skye was not ashamed to take.

  Despite the surprisingly comfortable mattress, she’d slept poorly. Even a session with Big Daddy failed took the edge off that ragged desire Grant Sisti always provoked in her, leaving her to stare at the ceiling in-between short bouts of shallow sleep.

  She’d reported to the Mimosa Maids offices early that morning, with the faint hope that Mandy might forget ordering Skye to take the weekend off. One look at her friend’s face squashed that.

  “Out!” she’d shouted, arresting Skye in place with a foot dangling over the threshold, the other outside the resort bungalow from which Mandy managed Mimosa Maids. “You are banned from cleaning products, mops, buckets…the works until 8 AM Monday morning.”

  “Mandy, come on!” Skye practically whined. “I want to work.” Needed to work was more like it. Something, anything, to keep her mind occupied and off her abject humiliation in front of a certain Navy SEAL

  She jabbed a finger at Skye. “Six months you’ve worked for me and never taken a day off. Which, yeah, thanks for that. But if you won’t take care of yourself, then, as your employer—as your friend—it’s up to me to force you. I’d better not see anything even remotely resembling a rag in your hand in the next two days or…you’re fired.”

  “What?!”

  Mandy paused and peered into Skye’s outraged face. Whatever she saw there softened her tone when she continued. “Honey, I can see you’re not getting this, so I’ll lay it out. This is what friends do. They take each other’s back. You are overdue. You had a cataclysmic shock yesterday. Take. A. Break. That’s an order.”

  Skye dropped onto the comfy couch lining the sidewall. Mandy’s husband had it delivered when she was starting up her business and spending far too many nights at the office for his peace of mind. That it was a pullout couch he’d shared with her more often than not was a salacious bit Mandy had revealed with wine-infused pink cheeks. Skye had no doubt the then newly married couple had put it to good use.

  She rolled her head along the back of the couch to look at her boss. “What am I supposed to do with an unplanned day off?”

  Mandy turned back to the papers on her desk. “Be spontaneous. Check something off on that adventure list. Take one of Zoe’s balloon rides. Go check out the progress on the baseball stadium and flirt with a construction worker.” She grinned across the desk at Skye. “Tool belts are so hawt. Or you could take a hike and commune with some goats. Who knows?” She opined with a mock gasp that should’ve sucked all the air out of the room. “Maybe you’ll even…go on a date!”

  “With one of the goats?” Mandy choke on a laugh and Skye smiled faintly. “I’m not very skilled in the flirting department.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a date before.”

  “Oh, I’ve dated.” Carefully arranged unions between men of suitable breeding and even more suitable bank accounts. “The goats would be a step up from my ex- fiancé.”

  Mandy jumped on that like a cat with a laser toy. “Fiancé? You never said you were engaged.”

  “Yeah, till about seven months ago.” Out with one bride, in with the other. And with her forced to play bridesmaid too. But when it came to a Thornquist wedding, it was all hands at the altar.

  She felt Mandy’s curiosity pulse across the room, but her friend didn’t put voice to it.
She wouldn’t either. Mandy had a kindness and sensitivity that was a rarity in Skye’s world. Her world before coming to Barefoot Bay, that is. Even when she’d been Skye’s boss before she became her friend, Mandy’s sweetness shined through everything she did. She’d been through the wringer herself, winning her man and the business that professionally fulfilled her through some seriously rough patches. Skye admired her for it. She more than kinda sorta hoped some of that resilience rubbed off on her.

  “Okay, I’ll take the day off,” she conceded if grudgingly. “But no balloons. And goats freak me out. And that’s before they buy me drinks.”

  Mandy snorted. “How about a moped? Any fear of putt putting on a two-wheeler? I could call over to the resort. Get you set up with one of theirs. You could head out to Pleasure Pointe. It’s a good ten-mile drive.”

  “That…actually sounds really appealing.” She’d been to the Med and walked along the French Riviera, but there’d always been things to do and ways to do them, with someone always watching, ready to correct. Ready to scold.

  “While you’re doing that, I’ll set us up with appointments at Eucalyptus. Mani/pedis and massages. My treat.”

  “Mandy, no, that’s too much!”

  “Nonsense. It’s as good as done. Go,” she encouraged. “Check out the less touristy of Mimosa Keys beaches. Enjoy the quiet time, then come back and get pampered.”

  Maybe most people wouldn’t call it an adventure to simply sit in solace alone on a beach, but for Skye, it would be one of the most rebellious acts she ever committed. “This won’t mess you up with the resort, right?”

  Mandy smiled, shining out the light of her sweetness. “Lacey’s the best. She’d probably consider it an employee perk by extension.”

  And that was the end of it. One call from Mandy and the resort’s activities director was only too happy to set Skye up with a sporty red moped, complete with a picnic lunch courtesy of the kitchen and, she’d no doubt, another product of Mandy’s well-intentioned meddling.

  Riding the spirit of adventure, Skye slipped into the resort’s gift shop and splurged on what felt like a scandalous bikini, but was probably pretty normal to the rest of the world. With the bikini and the basket, she had no need to trundle back to Hibiscus Court for supplies and simply used the Casa Blanca facilities to change before moving out.

  The concierge set her up with a map and directions. She did a short, 30-minute tutorial with the transportation wrangler who wasn’t satisfied she could handle herself until she and the moped completed two full circuits of Casa Blanca’s parking lot without a single wobble.

  From the moment she tentatively threw her leg over the saddle and then her feet on the floorboard, Skye was in love.

  It wasn’t a badass, Harley low rider complete with a muscled and bearded biker named Nasty. It wasn’t a streamlined sports car, tastefully tailored and not-at-all subtly expensive. It was quirky and silly and perfect. It made a loud, clunky noise when she accelerated. She went into town first and all the way down Mimosa Key’s main street, people glared as Skye cheerfully announced her presence with annoying authority. For once, she didn’t shy from the attention but smiled to herself and revved the accelerator.

  If she got cited by the locals for a noise complaint or disturbing the peace, it would be the highlight of her year.

  Skye dumped the helmet soon as she cleared the town border. Screw the rules, she thought, emboldened by the unaccustomed thrill of rebellion. Sure, the sea air would turn her hair into a rat’s nest, but it’s not like there was anyone there to impress. She savored that epiphany.

  No one to impress.

  She was on her own.

  Alone.

  Completely anonymous.

  Her euphoria lasted a good hour as she rode it (and the putt putt) up and down the Key ending at Pleasure Pointe on the southern tip. Rougher and rockier than Mimosa Key’s more tourist-favored main beach, Pleasure Pointe Beach was exactly that, a pleasure. Skye parked the moped and ambled down to the water’s edge before striking out for the sparsely populated outer edge, end capped by a rocky outcrop.

  She spread out her blanket (another gift shop splurge), the bold nautical colors flaring when she snapped it in the breeze to lay flat on the sand. One of her heavy sandals (the first Payless purchase of her life) anchored each opposing corner. Shedding her crop shorts and flowered t-shirt, she settled her butt in the center of the blanket and stretched back on her forearms to lift her face to the sun.

  For about 2 hours, she reveled in her short-lived bliss. After hour one, she took to the water, dunking in and out of what surf came in on the low tide. She climbed out, unhappy to see more people had found her oasis, but, ear buds firmly in place, resolved not to let that hinder her pursuit of further bliss.

  Well, she tried not to let it hinder.

  She sighed and replaced the ear buds, upping the volume on her phone while disregarding the warning about blowing out her ears. A blown ear drum would be welcome if it meant not having to listen to the blow-hard man-children parked uncomfortably close to her blanket or the rancid music puking out of their boom box.

  Who knew people still used boom boxes?

  Despite her efforts to drown them out, the braggadocio of the pack of boys—too far past adolescence to be teenagers, too glaringly short of maturity to be men—seeped past the songs on her Spotify playlist to pollute her ears.

  Honestly, the entire beach at their disposal and they had to horn in on her space? Solace, apparently, was considerably less easy to acquire than a motorized putt putt with the torque of a lawn mower.

  Though she’d bet her putt putt would destroy that vile boom box in a drag race.

  A cartoonish image of her moped, smoke billowing out from its tailpipe, soundly trouncing the oversized, outdated radio, popped into her head. Skye’s neck dropped back and she laughed at the sky.

  “If you’d laughed like that last night, I would’ve joined you in the pool.”

  “Oh!” Her head jerked around and up. Grant towered over her, hands on hips with his legs apart and planted on the sand like a redwood, tall and imposing. Or at least, she assumed it was Grant. The sun was behind him, obscuring his face, and casting his shadow over the end of her towel. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and peer up at him. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Good,” he deadpanned. “That’s what I was aiming for.”

  The clouds shifted, allowing Skye a better view of him. Bare chested, his skin was tanned to a warm brown that should’ve been out-of-place for March, but suited him even more now she knew his true occupation. The breadth of his naked chest made her belly twist and turn, though that could’ve been the ice-cream sandwich she’d bought from the truck.

  Now that she knew, she could see the SEAL training in every chiseled line, the curve of his pectoral, the detail of his six-pack almost at her eye level. How she thought him to be something as vanilla as a security guard baffled her. She tore her gaze away only to visually trip over the bulge of his bicep and the line of his forearm.

  His strong legs were covered in tired denim with frayed hems that dangled over his bare feet. His huge bare feet. He had to be a size 14 at the least. Where did he shop for shoes, Goliath ‘R Us?

  La, bare chested in jeans. She couldn’t have ordered him up any better had she tried. And from what menu—Navy Studs?

  Heat coursed from head to foot as she stared up at him, a lava flow her skin felt too thin to contain. Impassive, he brooded at her from his six-foot plus advantage, sporting aviator sunglasses that gave Skye such a fierce Tom Cruise jones, she nearly checked to see if Goose was with him.

  The clouds moved on, freeing the sun to blind her again, until pure self-defense yanked her eyes back up to his shadowed face.

  There was reciprocal heat there too, along with a carnal appreciation that made Skye self-conscious in her skimpy bikini. She’d never worn one before—her grandmother would’ve simply died at the idea—but thought to check that off her
nonsensical list. Now she regretted the wild hair that’d urged her to make the bold choice. The same wild hair that’d sent her naked into his pool the night before.

  She really needed to stop listening to that thing.

  Skye fixed her gaze to the rock face beyond him and managed to reclaim the power of speech. “Consider your goal met, Lieutenant,” she said with asperity.

  “Sweetheart, we are far from achieving mission objective. Believe me.”

  Super.

  She straightened up suddenly and snagged her sunglasses from the twisted knot of her hair. A meager defense, but better than nothing especially when she was next-door to naked before him. Again. Well, at least she was no longer sprawled at his feet like some slave girl awaiting despoilment.

  Thank God her bikini wasn’t gold.

  Her own thick frames allowed her to feel somewhat buffered from his tangible magnetism. Emboldened, she took him to task. “Look, I apologized last night for despoiling your pool. Surely you can accept it and we can both of us go our separate ways and leave one another alone from here on. Or was humiliating me last night not satisfying enough for you?”

  “Come on,” he scoffed. “I was a goddamn gentleman and in the face of some fucking serious temptation too. Bet you can’t name one thing I did last night that humiliated you.”

  Oh, he was too much! “Here’s a tip, handsome. When a woman offers herself and your response is, “sorry, darling, not tonight,” it’s not going to be her proudest moment.”

  “I was trying not to take advantage of you.”

  “That’d be something new,” she scoffed. What was she saying?! Shut up, already!

  Those mouth-watering arms crisscrossed his chest. “What was that?” he rumbled, low and lethal, and Skye wondered if his subordinates wet their pants when he spoke to them like that.

  “Nothing,” she managed. Retreat the better part of valor and all that.

  But Grant was of another mind. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re not getting off that easy.”

  “I’m not getting off at all, thanks to you,” she snapped before she could stop herself, only to blanch as soon as the words left her mouth. Did she want to provoke him?