Hot SEAL, Cold Feet (SEALs in Paradise)

by Becca Jameson

  “She’s got a point, Tuck,” Maria stated. “She made friends. That’s not a crime.”

  Maria was a fool.

  Tuck groaned and spun around to get a cup of coffee. It was too early in the morning for this nonsense. When he’d finally gotten back to the apartment last night, he’d listened to six messages on his phone. Three were from Maria. One was from the executive producer, Joanne Rossi, one was from the nursing home where his mom lived, and one was from Dave, the associate director.

  The gist he got from all the messages from the studio was that he needed to be up in less than four hours to have this little meeting before the show would resume broadcasting. Even though the live feed was technically twenty-four seven, in reality, there was nothing to see from the living room and kitchen while both Tuck and Katia were in the bedroom at night. It was easy enough to freeze the screen on the empty apartment to have a meeting at this odd hour. Afterward, Katia and Tuck would return to the bedroom and the cameras would resume running to catch them presumptively emerging for the first time that day.

  “What about you?” Katia asked, her voice hoity.

  “What about me?” He narrowed his gaze at her.

  “Maybe you’re just feeling guilty because the truth is you’re the one cheating. How am I supposed to know where you go for two hours twice a week?”

  It took all his strength not to scream. “Well, Katia,” he drawled. “Who do you think I’m fucking at the nursing home? Now that the entire world knows about my private life, don’t pretend you don’t know too.” He shifted his gaze to Maria. “If you want me to continue filming this, I need you to provide protection for the nursing home, by the way. They can’t be expected to cover the added expense of having increased security out front.” He knew he was almost overstepping his bounds, and there was a chance Maria would laugh at him and tell him to fuck off.

  She surprised him, however. “Done. I’ll have someone over there this morning.”

  He lifted both brows, shocked. “Good.” Apparently the show was making far more money than they expected.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Katia whined. “You have a secret girlfriend who works there or something?”

  Now he wanted to throttle her.

  “Katia, that’s enough,” Maria barked. “You’re being petty.”

  Katia shrugged nonchalantly. “What about that bar where he works? Maybe he’s screwing around with the waitress.”

  “You have any evidence of that?” Maria asked.

  “Nope. Just sayin’.”

  “Well, how about you both stop jumping to conclusions and get on with the show. You’re still under contract. Don’t forget what you signed.” Maria looked at Tuck. “Please, for the love of God, do not let me find out you’re having a fling with anyone anywhere. You have two more weeks under this contract.”

  “Ha,” Katia blurted.

  Maria shifted her attention to Katia and shook a finger at her. “Don’t be so sassy. You’re a prima donna. No one is ever going to work with you again if you don’t pull your shit together. And, don’t you even think about making contact with Dawson or Brittany B or anyone else from the set again until your contract expires.”

  Katia gasped, placing a hand over her chest. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” She even added a fake cry which made Tuck want to groan. Her lip trembled. She was truly a piece of work. “I can’t help it that some fans found us and followed us around. There was no stipulation in the contract that said I couldn’t visit other people from the set.”

  Maria stood, clearly done with this conversation. “That was before. This is now. Heed my advice and keep yourself out of the rumor mill.” She headed for the door. “Better get back in the bedroom. The cameras are going to resume rolling in three minutes.” And then she was gone.

  Tuck felt like a brick was lying on his chest as he shuffled reluctantly back to the bedroom behind Katia and shut the door. He said nothing as he made his way to the bathroom and locked himself inside.

  Fuck. He never should’ve let himself get hopeful. After spending the last four hours thinking maybe this entire gig was up, he was beyond frustrated to find out it was far from over. He was down to fourteen days and twenty hours now though. They couldn’t go by fast enough.

  Chapter 11

  The following week seemed like an eternity. Every day dragged by as if the clock were ticking far too slowly. It took every ounce of Tuck’s inner strength to follow the script he received each day, interacting with Katia as if the two of them had a love/hate relationship.

  The producers knew exactly what they were doing when they set this up. The object was to keep viewers watching as many hours as possible in hopes they would catch a fight or makeup. Ratings went up every single day. Tuck couldn’t believe how many people watched this shit live. Did they not realize it was all pretend?

  The fact that Tuck had no acting experience apparently made him look more authentic, whatever the hell that meant. All he could do was follow through with his prompts each morning and pray in one more week he would indeed be granted a giant check.

  So far, he’d been able to pay the nursing home every month from the proceeds from the sale of his mother’s home, but that money wasn’t going to last long. This windfall would buy him months of security, especially if he kept all his own personal expenses to a minimum.

  Business at Bridgman’s Bar was picking up, which was good for Bill and Jodi but made it harder for Tuck to keep an eye on everyone who came in. About a third of the customers came in just to get a picture with him. This pissed Tuck off and made him grumble, but it seemed to please Bill, who simply shrugged and said Tuck was the best thing that ever happened to him. He didn’t acknowledge the fact that while Tuck was busy with his numerous photo shoots, he was not doing the job he was hired for. His attention was always divided.

  Stan mostly chuckled under his breath from behind the bar, probably glad all the attention wasn’t on him. At about thirty-five, he was often the focus of many women’s attention because he was about six foot nine. Slender. Friendly to everyone.

  Roxie was always a crapshoot. Sometimes she was flirty and cute and funny. Other times she looked like she might strangle the next woman who posed for a picture. Tuck didn’t get her at all. He hoped she didn’t create problems for Jodi. She was a good waitress, but in the end, if she thought she had a chance with Tuck, she was wrong.

  Both Liz and Jacob had informed Tuck more than once that he needed to eat up all the publicity and smile more so that he didn’t piss off his fans—both male and female. This only made him grouchier. His contract only said he had to remain married to Katia for three months. It didn’t say a word about him having a chipper attitude, and he sure wasn’t feeling it.

  He did his best to play nice with the Cold Feet fans without letting it affect his job. Luckily, they didn’t get too out of control fawning over him. He considered instating a two-drink minimum at the door just to cut down on the number of people coming in with no interest in spending money, but when he mentioned it to Bill, the man just laughed and shook his head.

  Jodi kept her distance, which infuriated him even more. He would much prefer coming in early and staying late to spend time with her rather than cutting out the second they closed and rushing in the moment they opened to keep Katia from accusing him of cheating.

  The stakes were high. He wouldn’t put it past that woman to have someone tailing him and spying on him inside the bar in an effort to catch him doing anything untoward.

  Tuck was nothing if not squeaky clean lately. No more late nights laughing with Jodi in the office. No more grazing against her intentionally every time he got near. He even forced himself to keep his gaze from wandering her direction every five minutes.

  It was wearing on him. He wanted her more every day. She gave him no sign she was even interested in the last week. He prayed she was doing so to keep suspicions down. She definitely wasn’t herself. She smiled less. Her brow was often furrowed with
frustration, and she struggled to interact like her usual self with the regulars. Tuck wished he could confront her, but he didn’t have the right. Until this stupid contract was up, it was selfish of him to toy with her emotions.

  True to her word, Maria provided security outside of his mother’s nursing home. That appeased the facility enough to permit him to keep her there and continue visiting. As if he didn’t have enough frustration, she had deteriorated more in the last few weeks. She no longer spoke at all, not to him or anyone. Gone were the days when she might recognize him for a fleeting moment.

  The director of the facility even came into her room while Tuck was visiting yesterday and gently told him he didn’t need to feel guilty if he didn’t visit as often. She would never know the difference. He couldn’t bring himself to abandon the woman who raised him like that though. The guilt would eat at him.

  The best part of every day, no matter how equally frustrating, was arriving at the bar. At least he got to spend those ten hours in the same room as Jodi even if he couldn’t do anything to compromise his stupid contract.

  As he pulled into the parking lot, trying to clear his mind of all the shit that cluttered it, he stiffened. A squad car was parked directly in front of the bar.

  Tuck hurried to park and get inside, his mind now racing with the possibilities, all of which he feared had something to do with the damn drug dealer he had yet to identify.

  He squinted at the dim lighting as he stepped inside. The bar was supposed to open in fifteen minutes. Bill, Jodi, Stan, Liz, and Roxie were standing in a circle near the bar itself. Bill waved Tuck over and introduced him. “Tucker Lawler, this is Officer Roger Feltner.”

  As Feltner shook Tuck’s hand with a nod, he wasted no time bringing Tuck up to speed. “I understand you were hired to keep a close eye on the place. Bill tells me you’re a SEAL. Oh, thank you for your service, by the way.”

  Tuck nodded. “Did something happen?” He glanced at Jodi. She looked more forlorn than usual. She had her arms wrapped around her body as if she were cold. Her face was pale, and her hair was down. He almost never saw her without the signature clip she wore when she worked.

  Feltner responded. “A woman came into the ER last night complaining of a severe headache and blurred vision. Her heart rate was elevated, and eventually she told the physician she had taken weight-loss pills she bought from someone here.”

  Tuck winced. It infuriated him that he had not managed to spot a single illicit interaction between customers. Obviously, even with his added presence, it was still going on. “Did she say when she bought the pills?”

  “Wednesday night.”

  “Did she have a description of the dealer?”

  Feltner shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, but we did get more information out of her. The previous women were reluctant to divulge much. This woman says she got the number of the dealer from a friend of hers. Everyone passes around this number. It’s well known. I’m betting this bar isn’t the only place used for transactions. She called and spoke to a man on the phone. He had her send him the payment first. After he received the money, he told her what day to come to the bar. She told him what she would be wearing, left her purse hanging on the back of her chair, and he dropped the pills into her purse during the evening. If that’s how he does business with everyone, it’s pretty smooth. Could be anyone.”

  Roxie shuffled her feet. She looked a bit flushed. Tuck couldn’t blame her. It was nerve-racking knowing someone was using this bar to push drugs. With Roxie, he never knew what he might get each night. Some days she was cheerful. Other days she was grouchy. Today, she was nervous. Reasonably so. “She didn’t even see the guy? That seems kind of…weird.” She shuddered.

  Feltner shrugged. “Not sure what to tell you. If he waits until the bar is busy, all he has to do is get near her purse and easily drop the pills in.”

  Liz shuddered. “Kinda freaks me out.”

  Jodi rubbed her arms and asked, “Do we at least know what the pills look like and what they consist of?”

  Tuck could see her mind wandering to the night she’d touched the small tablet she found in the bathroom, probably hoping to hear that it in no way resembled the pills being sold for weight loss. He felt her stress.

  The officer nodded. “The pills are small blue-coated tablets. The woman gave the physician the rest of them, and he ran some tests. They are indeed the same type of stimulant thousands of people are using to lose weight. However, this particular type is not FDA approved because of the side effects, which include mood swings that range from almost too relaxed to raging bouts of anger.”

  Tuck nodded. “I’ve seen the effects. Several women on the set of the reality television show I was on were taking similar pills. They pop them like candy, and then they act like feral cats.”

  The officer smiled and snapped his fingers. “I knew I recognized your name. Cold Feet, right? My wife talks about you.”

  Tuck rolled his eyes. “Whatever she’s told you, it’s probably not true.”

  Feltner visibly forced himself to sober and get back on track. “Have you seen any patrons of the bar behaving erratically?”

  “Not yet. But I’m keeping a close eye out for the signs. I assume the women often buy the pills here but don’t take them until later.” It’s not like they’re purchasing crack for an instant high. Because diet pills are intended for weight loss, there’s no benefit to taking them the second someone buys them. That fact was making it more difficult for Tuck to spot the signs.

  Feltner sighed. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have more information. I just wanted to stop by and let you know the problem still persists. I realize I’ve given you very little.” He turned to face Tuck and handed him a card. “Please call me if you see anything remotely suspicious. Too bad I can’t stand here and check the pockets of every patron who comes in, but my hands are tied. We need to catch the guy in the act.”

  Tuck nodded agreement. “He can’t get away with it forever. I just hope I spot him before he decides this location is too hot and moves his business to another bar.”

  “That is a concern.” Feltner headed for the door. “I’ll let myself out. You folks have a nice evening.”

  Jodi spun around and stomped from the main room, heading for the hallway. A second later, her footsteps could be heard on the stairs.

  Tuck glanced around at everyone as they scattered and then looked to Bill.

  “Will you talk to her, please?” Bill’s request was loaded. Tuck suspected this wasn’t about the drug dealer at all but rather her growing frustration with Tuck’s obligations.

  Tuck nodded. “Of course.” He glanced at his watch.

  “The place isn’t going to swarm with clients in the first ten minutes. Stan can handle the bar. I’ll man the door.”

  Liz set a hand on Tuck’s arm as he reached the hallway. “We’re all friends, Tuck,” she said gently. “No one is going to breathe a word of your interaction with Jodi. Just… I don’t know. Say something to her so she can calm down a little. I think, well, I know she’s doubting your intentions.”

  Tuck swallowed, hating himself and everything about this fucked-up arrangement. He glanced at Stan, who was checking inventory behind the bar and then Roxie, who was arranging chairs around the tables. Would either one of them go running to Maria and tattle that he’d spent time alone with Jodi?

  Fuck. Did he even care anymore? So what if they did? He was beyond done with this situation, especially if it was causing Jodi this much pain.

  He didn’t respond to Liz, but continued toward the back stairs and took them two at a time. He’d never been upstairs in their living space. He felt slightly awkward, but he also couldn’t wait to reach the top.

  He took a deep breath and then, without knocking, opened the door. The space he entered was a combined living room kitchen area. It was slightly dark because the blinds were closed and Jodi hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. She stood at the kitchen sink, hands on the counter, hea
d bowed. “Just give me a second, Dad. I’ll be right down.”

  Tuck continued forward. When he reached her, he set his hands on her hips.

  She flinched and jerked her head up.

  He smoothed his palms around her body and hugged her against his chest. His heart was racing from the contact, but his soul was soothed. Nothing had ever felt so right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, nuzzling his face near her ear. It was the only thing he could really say.

  She blew out a breath and relaxed against his body, her hands coming up to cross over her chest and thread with his under her breasts. “Me too. You don’t need me acting like a weakling on top of everything else.”

  “You’re not weak, Jodi. You’re the strongest person I know. There isn’t another woman alive who would put up with what I have silently asked of you.”

  She leaned her head against his chest. “I can do it.”

  “I know you can, but I hate that you have to. It’s affecting your work. It’s not worth it anymore. I’ll go talk to the producers. Throw in the towel.”

  She shook her head. “No.” She released his hands and spun around in his arms to face him, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. “Don’t give up now. You have six days left.”

  He frowned. “I’d rather spend them with you.”

  “But you’re not going to. Like you said, this is worth a lot of money. You need it for your mom. I would never jeopardize that. Finish this thing up, and we’ll get it behind us.”

  She said “we.” He reached for her face and tucked a curl behind her ear. “I don’t deserve you.” He searched her face as she pulled herself together and forced a smile.

  “You’re going to have me anyway. In six days.”

  “You think you can get a night off after this is over?”

  She shrugged. “Probably, but not the same night you have off.”

  He chuckled. “Good point. Then we’ll go on a lunch date. How’s next Monday? I plan to be at the courthouse filing for divorce the moment they open at nine. Can I pick you up after?”