They do. Even though I need their help, and I don’t like feeling this way, it means I’m part of something. They’ve accepted me. The guys form a tight circle around me to block the camera’s view. There are guys surrounding me who I haven’t met yet. Men who have no skin in my game. My stomach flips when Luke turns to glance at me over his shoulder as we walk as a group toward the exit.
“They won’t fuck with our woman,” Luke says. “You’ve done enough fighting tonight. We got this.”
He smirks. Dimples. My heart skips a beat. Not good.
Chapter Six
Luke
“First Female Navy SEAL Unhinged.” The headline accompanies a photo of Little Dempsey with the guy from last night in a headlock. She looks certifiable, and sort of hot. I stifle a grin because it’s bad press. Horrible press. Aarabelle is probably scratching paint off the wall pissed mad right now. I would be. She looks like she’s handling business, and maybe that’s what the media needs to see to finally leave her alone. Doubtful. This is a huge deal. I set my phone down on the pool deck table and meet my dad’s gaze. I shake my fist in the air animatedly, and shrug. He approaches.
“It’s Sunday, are you having anyone else over?” Mav asks, eyes dropping to my phone. “Dempsey told me you and the guys stood up for Aarabelle last night.”
“Doing the right thing downrange and at home,” I say, banging my bare chest mockingly. “Do you want me to invite Little Dempsey over?” I ask, raising both brows, trying to read my father’s face. My mom walks over and his hand reaches out to pull her close to him. “Dad’s trying to run my adult life,” I tell my mom.
She looks up at my dad, her eyes lighting like a flame. My dad looks back at her just as goo-goo eyed. “Are you giving him a hard time?” she asks him.
I stand from my chair. “I’ll see if she’s busy. We leave for Marana tomorrow.” I clear my throat. “Guess I can give her the rundown on what to expect.”
“Windsor, can you tell Jonas to expect a visitor on your way back with a couple sparkling waters?” Dad smiles at mom.
“Am I cooking for another?” Mom asks, looking between me and Dad. “A woman? Is it true? Are we meeting your girlfriend, Luke?” My sister laughs loudly before splashing her friend in the pool behind our parents. It’s a beautiful lazy Sunday. Cherishing these slow, peaceful days is one of my favorite things. My life is hectic and full. Do I really want to invite someone new into this sacred space?
“Not that way,” Dad replies. “Dempsey’s daughter.” He goes on to explain the harrowing rules about the no relationship clause the PR woman set about for female inclusion into the Teams. He reminds her that rules about officers and enlisted fraternizing don’t apply in our situation. I can invite anyone from the Teams that I want.
My mom claps her hands. “Oh, I love Aarabelle. She’s such a beautiful girl. I was talking to Natalie about how nervous she was going through training.” She sighs. “She makes me proud to be a woman.”
It’s obvious ol’ mommy dearest hasn’t seen the news headline today. I smirk and pick up my phone. I have Little Dempsey’s number from last night. We exchanged digits in case she needed anything.
“She’s on my Team,” I tell Mom, casually. Dad rarely tells her anything about our work lives. Now that he’s getting to the end of his career, he probably speaks even less than that. “Dad wants me to be her friend.” I grin at the juvenile sentiment. “So no one picks on her at recess.” Mom purses her lips, eyes narrowed. She’s reading in between the lines. Almost as if she knows I wanted Little Dempsey to come over without Mav ordering me to invite her. Swallowing hard, I adjust my swim trunks and play at casual indifference. “Or during workup,” I add a more truthful excuse so my mom eases her glare.
Dad ruffles my hair, his dimples on full display. “Fuck off, son.” He walks away laughing and cannonballs into the bean-shaped pool, his tattooed back disappearing in a huge splash of water next to Marley and her friend. The girls shriek because he got their hair wet, but giggle when he surfaces and ask him to play Marco Polo.
Balling my fist at my side, I pull up Little Dempsey on my phone and fire off a quick text. My address. Then one more text with the code word for Jonas at the gate. Why am I nervous? This is the same as if Dagger or one of the other guys were to come over to hang and for dinner. This is my bubble. The personal space that I don’t let anyone else inside of. My family. My safe place regardless of everything else happening in my life or the world. My mom walks on the open patio area that’s open to the house. Glass walls raise and lower to give more privacy when we’re not using the outdoor space.
Aarabelle: What does this mean. Is that where I leave the duffle bag with unmarked bills?
I can’t suppress my grin.
Luke: My house. I’m having people over.
The smile falls off my face as I realize that was a lie.
Luke: Casual dinner and pool. Bring a suit.
Aarabelle: K. Only because Marissa left for work this morning abandoning me. I’m leaving CJJ PR right now and there are paps outside. My mom is trying to do some damage control, but if I drove home now, they’d follow me and never leave. I have to go straight there.
I tap the phone against my thigh as I think of what to reply with. Friendly. How I’d talk to a friend, but tempered.
Luke: The mugshot on the front page this morning was epic. I have a gate so they won’t follow you in at my house and take more flattering photos.
Aarabelle: Shut up, Hart. A gate?
Luke: Don’t judge. See U soon.
My heart races in an unfamiliar jagged beat that confuses me. What is happening? Just another Team guy…girl. I walk into the house and my mom is headed back with two drinks in her hand. She has on a long bathing suit cover up with her hair pulled into a long ponytail. Windsor Hart has my whole heart. I love my mom so much.
“Aarabelle will be here for dinner. You need me to run to the store to pick up anything else?”
Her blue eyes twinkle. “No, no. I have everything I need here.” She goes up on her toes to kiss my cheek before sauntering back out into the sunny day.
I check my phone one more time and then I pace the foyer.
“I can’t wear this butt floss, Hart. Not in front of Instructor Hart for Christ’s sake!” Aarabelle exclaims, holding up the bikini to examine it. It’s one of Marley’s suits, brand new with tags still on it. She keeps them at my house for instances such as this.
“My teenaged sister wears suits like this. I’m sure an adult woman is capable. It’s beautiful outside. You saw it. I know you want to go in the pool. Put the suit on.”
She keeps the swimsuit in her hand and folds her arms. “I don’t have a teenager’s body,” she says.
Thank God, I think.
“I can’t believe you live in an actual mansion. When you said you had a gate, I envisioned an actual gate, not an entrance with a sentry and spikes.”
I shrug. “I can’t help what you think. Get dressed, Little Dempsey. You’re the one who couldn’t go home first to get your own grandma bathing suit.”
She gazes around the large guest room, curious. “Who else is coming over?” She meets my eyes.
Biting my lip, I look away. The lie. “No one else. It’s a low-key Sunday.” I back toward the door. “Figured you’d want to pick my brain about jumping in Marana. Or, you know, get details about the upcoming training trips. Use me as a reference on your CV, I don’t know.” The word vomit comes, and I don’t know how to stop it without telling her Maverick Hart told me to be her friend.
She narrows her eyes. “Not that I’m opposed to asking you, but you do realize I could ask my dad if I had any questions about anything SEAL related and why would I need a reference on my resume when I just got hired with no plans to ever leave?” Aarabelle dangles the bikini from her fingertip and stares at it, wincing.
“Get your info from an old geezer then.” I cock my head to the side and throw my thumbs up over my shoulder. I’ve never been alo
ne with her and I underestimated how weird it would be. “I bet I can hold my breath longer than you can,” I edge, flailing to take the pressure off myself.
Her smile is so big it lights her entire face. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you? Challenge me to get your way?”
“It’s not my way, Little Dempsey. It’s the way. You live in SoCal. You are a Team…Girl. You can’t say no to a challenge.”
Her face softens when I almost call her a Team guy.
“Fine,” she counters. “Give me a shirt or something to put on over this.”
I nod at the dresser. “There should be something in there.” I step back toward the door. “Meet you out back.”
As she rifles through a drawer, she looks over her shoulder. “Hey, Hart.”
I raise both brows to acknowledge her.
She throws up the bull horns with one hand and yanks a t-shirt out with her left.
Grinning, I swallow hard and close the door behind me.
Marley bounds down the marble staircase toward me, a towel clutched in her hand. “Did she find the suit?”
I nod.
“Does it fit?”
I shrug, avoiding eye contact.
Marley whacks me in the shoulder. “What is wrong with you, doofus?”
“Nothing! She’s getting dressed now. How am I supposed to know if it fits? I’m not her goddamn personal shopper.” My tone is coiled, and Marley senses the unease. She has no clue where it stems from, though.
“Ruff, ruff doggy. You’re in a mood,” Marley sneers, brushing past me to knock on the guest bedroom door. “Aarabelle, let me know if you need anything.”
A faint response billows to the hallway, but I can’t determine what she said. It’s a large room. Marley’s long dark hair is dripping on the marble in front of the door and I want to go postal, but I also want to be cool right now.
“She’s fine. I got it.”
I lift my shirt over my head when my sister eases her way back to the staircase. Stooping down, I use my shirt to mop up the water drips. Aarabelle opens the door and looks down at me. “Where are your clothes?” she asks.
Standing to my full height, I show her my wet shirt. Her eyes are at chest level and she tilts her chin up to meet my eyes. “Where are your clothes?” I counter, letting my gaze dart to her bikini bottoms on full display. She covered her top with a shirt that isn’t quite long enough.
“Marley made a mess. I didn’t want you to slip,” I add, tossing the shirt up in the air once and catching it. “Marble makes for bloody falls.”
Aarabelle places her hands on her hips. “Right. So, I’ve been skydiving tandem once. Tell me everything about going solo in Marana. Don’t leave anything out.” A blessed break from trying to not look at her body.
Talking about work is easy—we float into conversation about that effortlessly as we make the trek back through the house to the open patio. I catch her looking around curiously as she speaks, but she continues asking questions about skydiving Marana instead of my house. It’s when we get outside and she spots my parents that her demeanor noticeably changes. Her back straightens, and her lips purse. I see her fists by her sides automatically going into formation.
“Little Dempsey,” Mav booms, his bare hairy chest dripping with water. “I’m so glad you could come over.” His tone is jovial, and his smile is rogue. He tells her to relax and says things meant to make her feel comfortable—not like she’s at work or being scrutinized, but I doubt she’ll fully relax. I know I wouldn’t be able to.
Aarabelle stays close to my side as Mom comes over and makes small talk about her mom and asks if she wants anything to eat or drink.
“My mom’s life mission is to make sure everyone in her presence is fully fed and watered,” I add when I see Aarabelle hesitate.
“And have her walk a mile in your house to fetch me something.” She air quotes the word house. “That’s okay, Mrs. Hart. I’m fine right now. Thank you, though.” She cups her hand over her eyes and surveys the expanse of the deck and farther down to the ocean, rocking up against the shore.
I walk back to my favorite chair, shaded by a large umbrella and gesture to the chaise lounge next to it. She follows, steps timid as I see her do what I do anytime I enter new surroundings. Study. Commit to memory. Look for escape routes. I’ve never seen a woman so acute with the same dispositions, and it’s a good thing. Qualities I can put in the ‘brother’ column instead of the ‘sweet Christ her legs go on for days’ column. Aarabelle sits and spins her feet to the side so she’s facing me.
“Real talk. This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” she says.
I grin. “Wait until you’re jumping out of a plane by yourself.” My cell phone pings on the small table between us and I reach out to silence it without looking whom it’s from. “I do love this spot though. It’s secluded. I moved into this house right before high school and never wanted to leave when my parents moved elsewhere.”
Aarabelle nods. “Yeah, you have a private beach, Hart. I’d say you could call that secluded. The whole place is beautiful.” She smiles as she turns to bring her legs up on the chaise. I try, and ceremoniously fail, at not looking at her thighs. Aarabelle sighs. “That photo of me in today’s newspaper is horrendous. Lt. Williams is so frustrated. With me, and with the stupid hawks that won’t stop following me everywhere I go.”
That’s it? She’s not going to give me a hard time about my lifestyle? Something quite literally everyone else does when I give them a peek behind the curtain.
“Yeah, that sucks. I’m…sorry. By the nature of the beast, the world will forget about it soon, though. You worked on good PR with your mom before this?”
“Yeah, gave a standard interview with the questions that everyone wants answers for. Maybe it will calm down after it goes to print.” She catches me staring at her when she turns her face to me, but doesn’t say anything. “Thanks for being there for me last night. It was a decent gesture and totally unexpected. I don’t know where I fit in, as you can imagine, and last night I felt like I belonged with you.” She clamps her mouth shut, and panic transforms her features. “Belonged with the Team, I mean. Obviously. Not with you. I didn’t mean it like that.” Little Dempsey clears her throat as her face twists with embarrassment. “Not that I’m saying I wouldn’t be with a person like you. You seem like a fine man.” She pauses. “I’m not calling you fine like it’s 2002 fine, I mean fine as in a good man, you know?” Aarabelle inhales a huge breath and releases it. “I’m going to shut my mouth now.”
I clear my throat and drag my gaze to her profile. A dark freckle rides high on her cheekbone. A pinprick that mars her smooth skin. My gaze travels to her long neck. It’s blotchy and red. She called me hot and said she would date me. I’ll give her a reprieve from her word vomit and ignore those things. Mostly because she makes me feel just as confused, but I’m better at keeping my mouth shut.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Did you think we’d leave you hanging last night?”
The word we is a conscious choice. She needs to think all the Team guys are on the same page, but honestly, if it wasn’t for me lobbying for her fair treatment, she’d be in a harder spot than she is right now. “The Teams are your family now, Little Dempsey. Sure, there will be some that want you to prove yourself more than you already have. It’s because they’re scared of the unknown. That’s true in almost anything or any career in life. Not just in the SEAL community.”
“True,” she replies. “I can take it. Anything they throw at me to prove myself. I’m not worried about that.”
Swallowing hard, I shift in my seat. We’re bordering on emotions, feelings, focus blockers. It’s a sudden shift. One I don’t partake in with women. Putting Aarabelle into that category would be offensive. She’s my teammate. “What are you worried about?”
Her eyes turn to my sister in the pool, then my parents who are canoodling in a cabana off to the side. “Balance, I guess.” She sniffles and meets my gaze.
“Let’s not talk about this. Tell me about Land Warfare.”
I grin. “Problems with sharing your feelings?”
“To someone who I hardly know? Yes.” Her eyes narrow, dark lashes casting a shadow on her cheeks.
Palming my chest, I say, “You know me.” Because you know yourself.
Her smile is white and heart-melting. “Okay, Hart.” Pressing her lips together, she loses herself in thought. “My entire life, and I do mean my absolute entire life, I’ve only wanted to be a Navy SEAL. When I was five, I made my parents put me into a ninja class instead of ballet. I got a little older and joined a swim team so I would be comfortable and fast in water. Any extracurricular activity I did in high school directly correlated to checking boxes to get into the Naval Academy. To obtain this end goal.” She pauses in thought and I again understand how much we think alike. Goosebumps prickle my skin and I rub my arms. Her gaze darts to the movement, but she turns away quickly.
“I get it,” I say. “So, what’s the worry?”
Her blue eyes trail to my torso and she tips her chin up. “I dated this guy,” she says, voice lower. “And for the first time in my entire life I thought that maybe I’d been hunting something that wasn’t as important as other things in life. The obstacle of time blocking my path to becoming an operator, gave me perspective.”
Ah. The sacrifice. The price tag is higher than anything else. Aarabelle stands, and her crotch is at my level. She paces. “This thing that I’ve wanted my entire life is mine. Finally. I did it.” I notice her nails are painted, they’re shiny. Clear. Not a color. Her voice is louder. “This thing that everyone told me would be impossible is here. I’ve worked so hard. I fought for it. I earned it. I feel awful because now all I can think of is what the tradeoff is going to be.” She stops her walk and sits next to me on the foot of my chair. “I never considered what I was giving up, Hart. That’s the worry.”
Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel Page 6