by Paige Tyler
CHAPTER EIGHT
PEYTON GROANED, BLINKING at the early morning sun streaming through her bedroom window. Crap. She felt like she hadn’t slept at all last night. That wasn’t surprising considering the questions Laurissa had given her to ponder at the promotion party.
She doubted her friend had intended for her to lose sleep over any of it, but that was one of Peyton’s many failings. If there was a problem, she nonstop obsessed about it until it was solved. Unfortunately, in this case, there was no simple solution. Which was why she’d spent hours staring up at the ceiling last night wondering if she was making a big mistake falling for Noah.
Part of her knew she was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. She’d known Noah for all of seventy-two hours and they’d gone on exactly one unofficial date. Yet here she was, getting wrapped around the axle worrying about whether she could handle him being a SEAL. Then again, that was standard practice for her. She had a history of worrying about the long-term potential of a relationship before the first date was even in the books.
She didn’t know what that said about her. She’d simply never had the slightest interest in having a casual thing with a guy. Unlike Laurissa, she wasn’t the swipe-right kind of girl. Heck, she’d never even dated more than one guy at a time. If she went out with someone, she committed to him until they went their separate ways.
Maybe that was why Laurissa told her to think long and hard about whether she wanted to get involved with Noah. Maybe she knew they’d never work out.
Rolling onto her back, Peyton dragged the pillow over her face to scream into it. Leave it to her to find a whole new way to torture herself.
Get a grip.
Sighing, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. This situation wasn’t nearly as complicated as she was making it out to be.
On one hand, she liked Noah. A lot. Enough to already see herself in a relationship with him, regardless of the fact that she’d only known him for three days. On the other, Noah had a job that would scare off most sane women. Was she going to let his job scare her off, too?
Her first instinct was to say, hell no. But then she took a breath and stopped herself. If she was being honest, Laurissa’s warning that Noah was gone all the time on secret missions that nobody even knew about was enough to give her pause.
How could she live not knowing if he was safe or not?
How could any woman live like that?
Getting to her feet, Peyton took off her tank top and shorts and put on her yoga clothes.
Obviously, there were women who did live like that. Hayley and Chasen had recently gotten married. Kyla and Wes seemed to be headed that way. And there had been other women at the party last night who’d appeared equally committed to the SEALs they were dating, some married and others engaged. They weren’t superhuman. They were simply in love. If other women could do it, she had to believe she could, too.
But before she could know for sure, she’d need more than a vague idea of what Noah and his fellow SEALs did for a living. She also needed to know exactly what he wanted out of this relationship. He’d said he wanted to see what else they could be. Was his idea of a future for them the same as hers?
Peyton decided to do without her usual bottle of water, not needing the distraction of a half-naked Noah sleeping on her couch, and went directly to her workout room. After the night she had, skipping yoga wasn’t an option. Thirty minutes of chaturangas, downward dog, and warrior positions would not only refresh her, but get her completely ready for the party later that would include a couple hundred die-hard fans and one very distracting SEAL.
After a quick workout and a shower, Peyton changed into a skirt and sleeveless top, then headed downstairs. Noah was leaning back against the counter in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding a mug of coffee in the other. He glanced up as she walked in, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he went back to his phone. Peyton smiled to herself, enjoying the sensation of his warm gaze on her skin.
“Morning,” he said, looking up from the phone again with an expression that could only be described as hungry. She found herself relishing that thought.
“Good morning,” she replied, taking out a mug and filling it with coffee. “Have you eaten yet?”
He shook his head. “I waited for you.”
That was nice of him. And exactly what a guy who was into her would do.
Peyton got two bowls out of the cabinet, then took a detour to the pantry for the cereal. When she came back out, Noah already had the carton of coconut-almond milk on the table and two spoons. She handed him one of the bowls, then sat down opposite him. As tempting as it was to gaze at him the whole time they ate, she limited herself to quick glances.
“Okay, tell me about this book signing/release party thing we’re doing tonight,” he said.
“There’s not much to tell,” she said, filling her bowl with Cheerios, then adding milk. “My publisher has reserved a large ballroom at the Hilton San Diego Bayfront and the event is supposed to kick off at six PM, though they rarely get these things off exactly on time. I usually go into the ballroom through a side entrance after all the fans have arrived and been given instructions on how the book signing will work. Then I stand at a podium and say a few words to welcome my readers and talk about the series and the newest book, tease a few tidbits about what comes next, answer a few questions from fans. After that, I spend the next four hours signing books. I know it sounds a little chaotic, but it’s actually rather chill and routine when you get right down to it.”
Noah seemed to consider that for a while, and from his slightly distracted expression, she got the feeling he was probably going through various security issues with the event she just described.
“Are the people who put this event together aware of the threat against you?” he asked. “Have they given any thought to postponing it or holding it in a more secure location?”
“The only person who knows about the break-in is my senior editor, Gwen Williamson.” She dipped her spoon into her cereal. “My publisher has decided to keep everyone else in the dark. Less chance it will leak to the press that way. And as far as postponing the event or moving it somewhere? No chance. This thing has been planned for months and coincided with the official release of the book next week. The release date can’t be changed at this point and with many of my readers coming from out of town just for a chance to meet me, there’s no way we can move the party. It would be a public relations catastrophe. Even if we could, I wouldn’t treat my readers like that. It’s wrong.”
On the other side of the table, Noah scowled, but didn’t say anything.
“I know you’re worried about me and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know,” she said. “But I can’t live like a shut-in until this book is finished. I have obligations to my publisher beyond writing, not the least of which is this release party. Over the next few weeks, I’ll have quite a few signings at bookstores around town and a few interviews, too.”
“I know.” He filled his own bowl with cereal and began to eat it—dry. “But I still worry about having you out in public like this. And yeah, I know we went out last night, but that was completely different. Nobody knew you were going to be there. Like you said, this release party has been publicized for months. If someone wanted to get to you outside of your home, that would be the place to do it.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, more than a little nervous at the thought. “But I trust you to keep me safe. I know you won’t let me out of your sight.”
While they ate, they talked a little more about the other book signings and interviews she’d be doing. After they were finished Peyton rinsed their bowls before putting them in the washer.
“I’m going to head back upstairs and get a couple hours of writing done before we leave,” she said.
He frowned. “A couple hours? I thought you said the release party isn’t until six. We don’t need to leave for like eight hours or some
thing.”
“If we were heading straight to the Bayfront hotel, yes,” she told him. “But I need to get my hair and nails done before the party and my appointment at the salon is at two o’clock. And since this is a dressy event, we’ll need to get you something else to wear besides jeans.”
“You mean, like a suit?”
She nodded, then almost laughed as his mouth twitched in the cutest way she’d ever seen.
“We’ll have to stop by my place so I can pick it up then,” he said.
That worked for her. And considering how good he looked in everything from jeans and a T-shirt to a towel, she couldn’t wait to see him dressed up.
* * * * *
“I have to admit, your place is a lot neater than I expected,” Peyton said as they walked into his apartment. “I don’t know why, I assumed it would be your standard bachelor pad with dishes piled up in the sink and pizza boxes overflowing the garbage can.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Does that make me a bad person?”
Noah chuckled, catching a whiff of the shampoo they used at the salon and he couldn’t help inhaling appreciatively. He still wasn’t sure what a blow-out was, but the two-plus hours he’d waited for her at the salon was definitely worth it. She looked amazing.
“Considering I told you I could eat pizza every night of the week, no, it doesn’t,” he said. “When you go on missions with no notice, you keep your place as clean as you can.”
He didn’t mention that before he’d left for her place the other day, he had to toss out an entire trash bag full of burger wrappers, pizza boxes, and chip bags that had accumulated while he’d been on medical leave.
Closing the door, he pocketed his keys. “I learned the hard way that there’s nothing worse than coming home to a sink full of dirty dishes after a month-long deployment. It helps that the place is so small. It makes it easy to keep up with it.”
“I don’t know,” Peyton said, glancing around. “It’s a pretty roomy apartment for a single guy. And that deck is like having an extra living room.”
While nowhere near as big as her house on the beach, Noah supposed he couldn’t really complain. His second-floor apartment had a fancy kitchen, two bedrooms, one-and-a-half baths, and an outdoor grill that was the envy of the neighbors.
Noah was mesmerized for a moment, watching Peyton gaze at the framed photos mounted on the walls, and the trinkets and knickknacks from his travels set out here and there. He realized he liked her in his space. She looked good here.
“I’m going to grab my suit,” he forced himself to say, finally remembering why they were there in the first place. “Make yourself at home.”
Peyton nodded, her attention focused on the photos.
Noah walked into his bedroom and over to the closet. As he flipped through the mix of military and civilian clothes, he replayed the past few hours. He’d never been to a salon before, and after the one he’d gone to with Peyton, he doubted he ever would. It’d definitely been one of the stranger experiences of his life.
It had been one of those fancy places with lots of potted plants, scented candles, and a waterfall feature right in the middle of the waiting area. In the background, a soundtrack of tranquil music and rain forest sounds had been playing. He supposed it was meant to be relaxing, but it made him feel like he’d been trapped in an elevator.
Peyton had told him she’d be a while, suggesting he might want to head out and find a bookstore or some other place to wait until she was done. But there was no way he was going to leave her unguarded, so he’d settled in one of the stuffed chairs in the lobby to wait.
They didn’t have any magazines he could see himself reading—women’s fashion wasn’t his thing—but after spending an hour reading the latest college football preseason news on his phone, he’d been desperate enough to try anything and finally picked up a copy of Cosmo. If he’d gotten strange looks from the salon’s clients before, that was nothing compared to how they’d eyed him when they saw him flipping through an article on the wildest sex positions ever published. Truthfully, they didn’t seem that wild to him. Some even looked sort of boring. And quite a few of the rest were likely physically impossible unless you were made out of rubber.
But as strange as it was to be sitting in a salon reading a Cosmo, the thing that weirded him out the most was all the women who kept asking if he’d like to get his hair done while he waited. When he politely declined—several times—they decided to offer him a mani-pedi.
“All the men are getting them now,” a freckled redhead had told him, staring at his hands with an intensity that actually scared him a little
Noah could comfortably say he’d never met a man who’d gotten a mani-pedi. And he could also comfortably say he’d lived for twenty-eight years without getting his nails filed and buffed and that he was pretty sure he didn’t need to start now. Trying to convince the women who worked at the salon of that fact was harder than he thought it’d be. They were scary aggressive when it came to talking up their services. Kind of like the people who tried to sell you timeshare rentals at the beach.
He’d never been so relieved when Peyton had finally come out and rescued him. He’d been so rattled he’d barely remembered to tell her how beautiful she looked.
Shaking his head at the memory, Noah found his favorite dark charcoal suit to one side of his closet and pulled it out. Thankfully, the Team commander had talked him into getting it a while ago. Up until that point, Noah had worn his Navy whites to formal functions. It’d seemed like a waste of money to splurge on a suit, but he had to admit it was the best money he ever spent.
If nothing else, the suit was proving to be a lifesaver for Peyton’s big release party. Without it, he would have been forced to go on a shopping spree with her. And while he enjoyed hanging out with her, shopping was not how he preferred to spend that time.
He stuffed the suit in a nylon garment bag, then added a light-blue dress shirt before tossing a tie in a small overnight bag along with a pair of socks and black dress shoes. Doing a quick mental inventory to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, he zipped the bags, then turned for the door and stopped, his gaze locking on the gun safe in the back of the closest. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should take a weapon with him tonight. He had a small frame 9mm automatic it there, along with a slimline holster designed to fit inside the waist of his suit pants. No one would even see it.
Unless he had to pull it out of course.
Then someone would certainly see it and he’d be screwed. Yes, it would add an extra level of protection if something happened, but at the same time, if he drew a weapon that he had no concealed carry permit for, he’d end up in jail. And likely in trouble with Chasen and headquarters.
After hesitating for a few more seconds, Noah shook his head, then headed back into the living room. He only hoped he didn’t regret this decision.
Peyton was standing by the fireplace looking at the framed photos on the mantel and those along the wall. There were some of him with his mom and sister, but most were of him with his SEAL Team or places he’d gotten to visit. Noah set down the overnight bag, then draped the garment one over the back of the couch and walked over to stand beside her.
She glanced at him, her lips curving into a smile. “I recognize a lot of these guys from the promotion party the other night, but not all of them.”
He motioned at one of the group photos. “These four are on a mission overseas. And these three were all medically discharged from the SEALs due to injuries sustained in the line of duty.”
Her gaze lingered on a photo of him and the other guys with a dilapidated-looking mud hut in the background. “Do you still stay in touch with the guys who got discharged from the Navy?”
He grinned. “For sure. Those guys are like my brothers. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them and vice versa. If any of them called and said he needed me to go halfway across the world to help him, I’d go without hesitation.”
Peyton turned to face
him, her expression tough to read as she looked up at him. “Having a bond like that sounds amazing.”
They hadn’t been this close to each other since the party last night and her nearness was making it hard to think of anything except kissing her again. “Um, yeah.”
Way to sound articulate, dude.
“What about this guy on the end?” she asked, smiling as if she knew he was a little befuddled. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t see him at the party, either.”
Noah didn’t say anything for a second, not sure how he was supposed to answer the question, since Peyton wasn’t going to like hearing the truth. “That’s Dan,” he said softly, reaching out to run a finger over the frame. “He died on a mission about a year ago. We were good friends.”
Seeing Peyton’s eyes fill with sadness made him sorry he’d told her. Maybe a lie would have been better. But then he realized that would have been stupid. He’d spent a good portion of the past few days wondering if he and Peyton might be right for each other. If she couldn’t handle the simple reality of life in the SEALs, then getting together with her was nothing but a pipe dream.
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “How did it happen? Did they get the people who did it? I mean, they didn’t get away with it, did they?”
They were typical questions people asked when they heard that anyone in the military had died in combat, so he didn’t blame her for wondering.
“There’s not much I can tell you,” he said. “It was a classified operation, so the location and details were never released.”
Peyton didn’t say anything for a long time, turning to look at the photos on the mantle and wall again, only to settle on Dan’s picture. Noah was about to apologize for saying something so disturbing when she spoke.