Amber Williams - Navy Seal Promise

“Four.”

Kyle might’ve choked. “Four?”

Pappy chuckled at his reaction. “Yes, sir. Her and Joey managed to turn out four in four years.”

It sounded like a lot. Still, Kyle didn’t know quite how to take the news of the divorce. It wasn’t long after their long-term relationship had gone belly-up that Laurel had taken up with Joe Louth, a local firefighter. It hadn’t been long after that that the two announced plans to marry. Laurel had always been vocal about her desire for traditional family life, down to the kids—a whole baseball team’s worth. Before Joe, before BUD/S, she and Kyle had talked about making that a reality.

The damn frag changed a lot of things.

It wasn’t a surprise to him that Laurel had moved on to make her dream of marriage and kids a reality. Nor was it a surprise that she’d grown weary of Joey’s firefighting hours. She’d barely lasted through Kyle’s first deployment.

Mavis finally hung up the phone. Pappy chuckled at her smug expression. “Ah, honey, ain’t no mistake. Hearing you take J. T. Lowman down a few pegs cheers me up somethin’ fierce.”

“It wasn’t the worst part of my day,” she admitted, shredding the complaint report methodically down the middle. “Sorry, bro. Guess I didn’t need you after all.”

Kyle held up a hand. “You lullabied Pappy into an afternoon siesta and saved me a hassle. Good work.” He pushed off the jamb and walked back into the garage.

It was beginning to feel crowded with Hick and a few of the other boys rounding up the show cars and parking them bumper to bumper in the empty service stations. Kyle smiled when one of them tested the motor of his father’s old Mustang, revving it so the deep-throated growl of high-performance ponies galloped up the walls in a chill-inducing charge. A few of the boys leaned out of the cars to whistle appreciatively. Kyle applauded. He’d fallen in love with the noise early, much as he’d fallen in love with the laugh of a strident redheaded girl.

The last had always been platonic. Decidedly platonic. He’d never wanted to kiss Harmony. Never thought about kissing her. Never thought overtly about any particular part of her body. Especially not her mouth in all the colorful imaginative ways he had over the last sixteen hours...

He didn’t want this. Any of it. It threatened to take one of the most important relationships in his life and rend it in half. What had seemed ironclad yesterday was now on the verge of being crushed beneath the heel of his boot—like some intricate origami bird. Sure, it looked sturdy, but how well would it hold up under the flat side of his shit-kickers?

Kyle had to lock it down. If it meant retreating to all the training techniques he’d learned through the years, so be it. The white-winged crane that was him and Harmony and, partially, Bea’s connection was crucial to each of them. And, damn it, no bad mission, questionable homecoming or lack of female companionship was going to undermine it.

He found himself facing the Trans Am again, this time from the back. The word MERCY caught his eye once more.

Something crawled down the back of his neck. A feeling he didn’t like. It was usually his chief indicator that something was about to go terribly wrong on a mission. The Spidey sense had saved his life more than a time or two overseas as well as the lives of his teammates.

As much as he’d like to give the engine another look, he sidestepped the car, giving it a wide berth. No, he didn’t know where or who it had come from. At this point, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

It smelled like trouble in Goodyear tires and a double coat of dust.

CHAPTER FIVE

“THIS IS JUST EMBARRASSING,” Mavis mumbled, slouching farther into the white rocker on the front porch of Hanna’s Inn.

“How long have they been at this?” Harmony asked from the next chair, scarfing a triangular-shaped sandwich. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Storm prep at B.S. had kept her and the other airfield employees hopping throughout the day. She still had to go home and put up her own storm shutters, but her parents lived on the bay. They didn’t just have to contend with the possibility of wind. There was the very real threat of flooding. So she’d come to make sure they were okay first.

While her father and several other strong-armed fellas connected to Flora, Belle Brides and the tavern were still tying down and boarding up, the women had taken a well-deserved break with tall glasses of lemon ice water and cucumber sandwiches.

Mavis frowned sideways at the others. “What’s wrong with them? They’re supposed to be the grown-ups.”

Harmony gobbled another sandwich. “Mmm. Let them have their fun.”

“Ooh, ooh,” Adrian Bracken said, straightening against the high back of her rocker. “He’s coming.”

“Yes,” Olivia Leighton hissed as she leaned forward to get a better look down the street. “’Bout time. I’ve earned this today.”

Harmony watched, amused, as her mother, Briar, ran her fingers through her medium-length hair and smirked when she caught Mavis inching up a bit in her chair. “Oh, good God.”

“What?” Mavis asked, trying to look as surly as Kyle had the night before.

“Look at you, trying to get a peek.” Harmony slapped her knee as she sat back and laughed. “You’re just like them.”

“Am not,” Mavis said, offended.

“Are, too,” Harmony returned.

“Am not!”

“Are, too!”

“Sh, sh! Girls!” Olivia said, waving a blind hand at them as the object of their fascination finally jogged into view on the sidewalk lining the scenic highway beyond the gravel lot.

He wore red running shorts, low-cut socks, running shoes and nothing else except a black band around his bicep that held a portable speaker. Music followed him, the crash of heavy metal angry enough for Mavis to appreciate. He’d been bronzed by the sun and was fit to please.

A fine male specimen indeed. Harmony slowly licked a dab of dill cream cheese from the corner of her mouth and reached for the cool glass on the small table next to her chair. The temperature was rising.

A shrill whistle cut across the porch, followed by the impressive strain of a rebel yell. When the man’s head swiveled, Olivia called out, “Get you some, hot stuff!”

The runner grinned back and jerked his chin in their direction. “Right back at ya, ma’am!”

Mavis groaned and turned fifty shades of red, failing epically to blend in with the yellow seat cushions.

Harmony guffawed. “Do y’all do this every day?”

“We have a standing appointment with Running Man every other weekday,” Briar admitted, having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by the display.

“Rain or shine.” Adrian sighed. “He never disappoints.”

“Does Dad know about this?” Mavis drawled.

“He knows it’s harmless,” Adrian replied.

Harmony tilted her head to see her mother better. “Is Bea with the guys? I couldn’t find her downstairs.”

“In the breakfast room of the new wing,” Briar told her. “A visitor stopped by to help us prep, but she snagged him first.”

Kyle. Harmony caught Mavis’s knowing look and brushed the crumbs from her blouse. The one person who knew about her long-ago feelings for Kyle was Mavis. They were close in age and had grown chummy through the years. Chummy enough for secrets. They never spoke of it, mostly because Mavis found the idea mortifying. No one was more relieved nothing had come of Harmony’s crush on Kyle than his baby sister.

Someone clattered up the porch steps and Harmony turned her attention to Roxie Strong. She wore high-arched heels and an immaculate day dress. Nobody ever found a wrinkle on Roxie. She had aged superbly. Though lately she looked tired. Despite her busy hours as a wedding coordinator, seamstress and the taxing business of being a mother of three, she’d hidden the wear that came with her combined workload with admirable ease.