Jill Monroe - Sealed and Delivered

Low price to pay to a point. “Shut it, before I drown you.”

The water grew choppy, which signaled the helicopter’s return. The men were then forced to handle their communication by hand signals. It was just as well. Nate had a few hand signals in mind that weren’t Navy regulated.

A rope ladder descended from their transport above, and Nate supervised as each man made his way safely out of the water. He gripped the rung, and hauled himself out of the water, his knee aching with the effort. He gritted his teeth and began to ascend the ladder. It was no secret to the men he trained he’d rather be out with his Team than in San Diego, but orders were orders, and he had enough discipline to admit that until he was fully healed, he’d be more of a hindrance than a help.

It still didn’t make him wish for something different.

Nor did it stop him from glancing once more at the beach. Commander Nate Peterson knew three things: he was in for a longer stretch in San Diego than he’d planned, his need for the woman who’d kissed himhadn’t lessened, and he would see her again. He’d make sure of it.

“YOU KNOW HE STOOD there even after you left. He watched you.”

Hailey put down the dishtowel she’d been using to dry the pretty yellow-flowered china that Sutherlands had served delicious meals on for generations. Gripping the delicate plate between her fingers, she stared at her sister. “No, he didn’t.”

“I think he was waiting to see if you’d turn around or something,” Rachel said as she wiped suds off a saucer.

“I’m going to swat you with this towel if you don’t stop talking about it,” she warned.

Rachel lifted her hands out of the soapy water in surrender. “Fine, don’t believe me. I was just wondering if you wanted to rinse off or something since that was the most intense eye-screw—or do you prefer eye-loving since you’re such a romantic—I’ve ever seen.”

He’d watched her? Something warm and tingly shimmied down her back, and she blinked. What was that? Some kind of shiver of desire? Nope, not going to acknowledge it. Didn’t happen. What shiver of desire? She should never have dissed fate.

“And then with the other girls laughing, it had to have been weird for him,” her sister continued.

Nope, Hailey would ignore that twinge of guilt. He was a Navy SEAL, he could handle it. “I thought we were going to drop this subject,” she said, pulling the newly rinsed saucer out of the water.

“I remember you suggesting it,” Rachel said, grinning. “Who knows, he might sort of…show up. Or maybe you could stroll up and down the beach in case Mother Nature starts raining men again.”

Hailey wouldn’t even respond to that little bit of insanity.

But she’d lived with the woman beside her almost her whole life, and knew when her sister wasn’t going to let something drop. She placed the newly dried china saucer in the cabinet above her head and faced Rachel. “Why are you pushing this? You know my track record. The last thing I need to be is within shouting distance of a man.”

The playful look on her sister’s face faded. “Maybe you need a little hair of the dog?”

“Like cures like? Use a man to get over a man?” Hailey shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m pretty sure that rationale is what got me engaged time number three.”

Rachel reached over and squeezed Hailey’s hand. “I hate seeing you this moody, Hailey. For a minute there, out on the beach, I saw the feisty, never-turn-down-a-dare Hailey. I miss her.”

If she were being honest, Hailey would admit she missed her old self, too. But something wasn’t right in her life. And hadn’t been for a while. “Yeah, well, the old Hailey made great work of her life so far. Four years of college, a degree in Art Adminstration under my belt and where do I find myself? At a complete dead stop in my career and right back at the family business. Art’s to be experienced. I should be out there working to bring the best collections to the people. Managing field trips and docents. Helping teachers present the arts in their classrooms.”

“Maybe this is where you’re meant to be,” her sister said gently.

Hailey released a heavy sigh. “Even if I gave that some credence, which I don’t, there’s still the issue of my three failed engagements. And let’s not forget, you were the first person to tell me how bad my taste is in men. So, no, we may miss old Hailey, but at the age of twenty-seven, I’m here to find myself and nothing is going to stop me no matter how great a kisser the man is.”

Or how solid his chest.

Or strong his legs.

A little shiver fluttered through her stomach.

Rachel’s lips twisted in a not-so-great effort at hiding another grin. “Did you say find yourself? Now you sound like crazy Aunt June. What happened to her?”

“I think she moved in with her sister. We called her cool Aunt June until then,” she reminded her sister dryly.

Her sister propped a hand on her hip. “See? There’s the old Hailey I missed.”

“You missed sarcasm? Now shoo—the new Hailey has a lot of work to do. I want to finish these dishes, take a nap and tackle that new self-help book.” And work on never thinking of that man and his dangerous kisses again.

“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, sinking her hands into the soapy water.

They worked together in silence cleaning the last of the china. The very modern stainless steel commercial dishwasher took care of the rest of the party utensils and serving dishes, but the Sutherland china was always washed by hand.

“This kind of reminds me of mom,” Hailey said.

“I was thinking the same thing. How many times did we talk about boys, and dates with our hands in this sink?”

“Lots.” She smiled at the happy memory.

“So, he was a good kisser?” Rachel asked.

God save her, yes. “Stop,” she said in exasperation, then swatted her sister with the towel anyway.

AFTER A CHECKING ON the Ensign and a quick debrief, Nate Peterson headed to the weight room. He worked to mask the usually slight limp to his leg, more pronounced after the arduous training swim and carrying the injured man’s weight up onto the beach.

He willed the pain away.

He’d dealt with worse. Fought with worse. Soon, the wicked scar wrapping around his thigh would be the only evidence he’d ever been hurt. His leg injury might prevent him from running, but it couldn’t stop him from strength training. Nothing would stop him from returning to SEAL condition and taking his rightful place in The Teams when he was called.

Nate may have been looking for an escape from his old man, but fate had looked out for him that day when he was in the Navy recruiter’s office at the age of eighteen.

He wasn’t half way through basic when Nate realized he’d found a home. The Navy provided rules and discipline, something he’d never experienced growing up. His father may have laughed, but Nate actually excelled when there was a level of expectation. He wasn’t a benchmark kind of guy. If there was a challenge, Nate didn’t just want to meet it, he wanted to surpass it.

With the SEALs being the most highly regarded and trained of all the Special Forces, Nate knew that Trident would one day be his. He wouldn’t let something like an injury prevent him from doing what he was supposed to do.

He adjusted the weight for the reps to work his upper body. Almost every base he’d been assigned housed a weight room. Different locales, different climates, different languages…this room with its benches, mirrors and weights, was like coming home. Working out was as much a part of his normal routine as shaving or eating. Only the physical therapy exercises were new. The movements, which would return the tone and flexibility to his muscles, he kept to himself and performed away from the eyes of others.