Hot SEAL, Best Man (SEALs in Paradise)

by Parker Kincade

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never seen a guy so offended by bad cake before. It’s kind of adorable.”

  Evan scoffed. What was he, a puppy? “It’s a fucking travesty, that’s what it is.”

  Presley tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a such a loyal cake man. Or a sweets-of-any-kind man, actually.”

  Evan cleared his throat one more time for good measure before trying to speak. “Why not?”

  Her eyes flickered up and down his chest and abs. “You’re in great shape. The kind of shape that comes from a healthy lifestyle.”

  Evan took the opportunity to return the favor, his gaze roaming over what he could see of her body. She was in excellent shape as well. Funny how he hadn’t noticed the muscles in her arms while she’d been wearing a dress. The dresses he’d seen her in made her look soft, curvy, feminine. The Masters Flower House and Greenery tank top she wore now flattered her body in an entirely different way. She looked like a total badass. Confident, strong, sexy.

  Evan was intrigued by the differences. It made him wonder what other discoveries he might make if she were, perhaps, naked.

  “I’m not a health nut by any stretch,” he admitted. “I have a few vices.”

  “Which are…?”

  “Good cake. Burgers. Coffee. The occasional cigar.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Sex.”

  Making Presley blush was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

  “Evan.” The breathy way she said his name went straight to his head. Presley folded her hands-on top of her open planner. “We should talk about that kiss.”

  He’d wondered how long it would take her to bring that up.

  In a move that felt as natural as breathing, Evan reached over, his large hand engulfing her smaller ones. As he moved, he caught the time on his watch. Less than five hours ago, he’d told the guys he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Hard to believe when it seemed so clear to him now.

  After spending the afternoon with Presley, Evan was reminded of why he’d fallen for her when they were kids. She was fun to be around. She was organized. Passionate about the things she loved. She had a gorgeous body and a smile that slayed him every time he earned one. So, yeah. He wanted to fuck the hell out of her, which meant the only thing Evan wanted to know about their kiss was when they could do it again.

  That brief, unexpected taste of her hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy him. He wanted more. He wanted the time, and the privacy, to thoroughly explore her pretty mouth, her curves, every last inch of her.

  He caressed his thumb across the back of her hand, loving the way her silky skin warmed under his touch. “I hope you aren’t expecting an apology.”

  Her gaze was glued to the motion of his thumb. “No. I-I wanted to kiss you.” Her brows crinkled as though the admission troubled her. “I thought about it, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to do it again.”

  Evan wouldn’t lie—it turned him the fuck on that she’d thought about kissing him again, good idea or not. “We didn’t do anything wrong, Pres. We’re single, consenting adults.” Her gaze shifted away, giving him an instant, uneasy feeling deep in his gut. Since she’d admitted to wanting to kiss him, there was only one other option. “You are single, right?”

  Evan released a breath at Presley’s slow nod. He told himself the relief he felt was because he didn’t need the drama of a jealous boyfriend coming at him. Evan would be forced to kick the guy’s ass, which would no doubt piss off Presley and put a strain on the wedding prep. On top of that, he’d have to pay the consequences when he showed up at the range. Evan’s superiors tended to frown upon their snipers showing up with any kind of vulnerability, even it if was just a set of busted knuckles.

  Nevertheless, Evan didn’t like the far-off look in her eyes. As if she had more to say.

  “Presley…” He trailed off, acutely aware of their surroundings. There weren’t any other customers, but they weren’t exactly alone. “Come with me.”

  Evan slid from the chair and stood, holding out his hand for her. She looked confused, her brows still pinched, but she gathered her things.

  She ignored his hand and got to her feet on her own. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere we can talk.” He put his hand against the small of her back and ushered her out of the bakery, tossing a booming thanks over his shoulder as they went out the door.

  Neither of them said a word during the short walk to the parking lot behind the bakery. When they got to his truck, Evan opened the passenger-side door. Presley stepped forward, but he didn’t move out of the way so she could get in. Instead, he took her bag from her shoulder, tossed it onto the seat, and slammed the door shut.

  The lot was secluded from the foot traffic on the main road. Only one other car sat in the lot, presumably the owner’s. This was as private as they were going to get for the time being.

  He leaned his backside against the door and reached for her hand. Her lips parted on a startled gasp, and Evan almost forgot why he’d brought her out there.

  “Now.” A slight tug and Presley took a hesitant, shuffling step toward him. “Explain to me why you think us kissing is a bad idea.”

  She was close enough he could see her eyes dilate.

  “It’s confusing,” she said in that airy tone Evan wanted to feel against his ear, along his skin, covering his dick. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lingering along the curved edge of her lobe. “We’re getting to know each other again. Do we need to know anything more than that?”

  Presley’s head tilted the tiniest bit to the side. Evan would bet money she hadn’t realized she’d done it, but he took full advantage of the invitation. He abandoned her earlobe and trailed his fingers down the slope of her neck.

  Her eyes drifted closed. “I don’t know if—”

  Evan pressed his mouth to hers, swallowing the doubt before she gave it the power to come between them.

  A growl escaped his throat when she opened for him. He met her tongue with a rush of lust that punched him below the belt. Evan pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping her gently before diving back in. He slid his hand to the back of her neck, holding her against him as he ravaged her. The kiss was frenzied, raw, hungry. Not enough.

  God. Her fucking mouth.

  Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so worked up over a kiss. At the rate he was going, he wouldn’t last two seconds if he had her under him.

  He slipped an arm around her and pulled her flush against his body. She looped her arms around his neck. She was a fucking dream. The tight points of her nipples teased his chest as he snaked his hands under her tank top, needing to feel her skin beneath his hands.

  Presley moaned and arched her back as he traced the curve of her spine. He was so fucking tempted to slip his hand around to her front. He ached to cup her breasts, but a distant car horn reminded him of where they were—standing in broad daylight where anyone could see them.

  Evan silently cursed. Pulling away from Presley was physically painful, but they both needed to breathe, and he needed to not embarrass himself by blowing his load in his pants like a fucking teenager.

  In public.

  Evan slid his hands out of her shirt and wrapped them around her waist. Satisfaction filled his chest at the dazed look on Presley’s face as she removed her arms from around his neck. She dropped her hands to his waist, her greedy little fingers clutching at his shirt.

  Evan dropped his weight back against the truck, taking Presley with him. Evan shifted his hips to keep his erection from further torture by being squeezed against her.

  She melted against him, her body languid and perfect. He pressed a kiss to her forehead then tucked her head under his chin, her cheek resting against his chest.

  “Wow,” Presley panted, causing him to chuckle.

  “Wow, indeed.” His heart was racing faster than if he’d just
finished the O-Course. Evan didn’t know how long they stayed like that—him cradling Presley against his chest while he tried to regulate his heart rate—before his phone rang, bursting the quiet little bubble around them.

  Presley burst out laughing and shoved off his chest. “Is that the theme from Batman?”

  Fuck. It wasn’t a call he could ignore. He pulled the phone from his pocket. “I need to get this.”

  “Of course.” Presley smoothed a hand over her hair. Her smile was sweet, patient. “No problem.”

  Because he couldn’t resist, Evan pressed another quick kiss to Presley’s forehead before he opened the truck door. He helped Presley climb inside as he answered with a gruff, “Yeah?”

  He’d barely gotten the passenger door shut before C-Note’s voice boomed through the phone.

  “Get your ass to base.”

  Evan cringed. He hoped Presley hadn’t heard that. He would need to tell her about his job at some point, but not while he was still reeling from a fucking make-out session.

  He checked his watch and did the calculation in his head. He had to drop Presley back off at the nursery where her car was, but he’d miss rush hour. “I can be there in under an hour.”

  “Bring your speedo.” The fucker was laughing as he hung up.

  Evan groaned as he walked around the truck. He fucking hated impromptu training exercises. A two-mile night swim in the ocean was his least favorite training exercise. And no way in hell would he ever be caught dead in a speedo.

  “Everything all right?” Presley asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up.

  “Yeah, but I have somewhere I need to be.” Evan took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “Can I get a raincheck on those other bakeries?”

  “Since I’ve been recently fired from cake duty, I’d say that’s up to you.”

  “Raincheck it is, then.” He kept her hand in his as he started the truck. “I’ll call you later, and we can figure it out.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, and Evan? Forget what I said about kissing. We can definitely do that again.”

  Fuck yeah, they could.

  Unfortunately for him, again would have to wait.

  8

  Weekends at the nursery were always a madhouse. Saturday came and went in a blur of weekend warriors out to take advantage of San Diego’s beautiful weather. Sunday started much the same way, but a sudden bout of afternoon rain had chased people back home, giving Presley the opportunity to sneak away for some much-needed time at her own house.

  Her blue with white trimmed bungalow-style house was small by California standards, but she loved it. She had three modest-sized bedrooms and two bathrooms. She didn’t have a dining area, but the kitchen had an oversized island with bar seating, which suited her since her work schedule didn’t allow a lot of time for entertaining. Her favorite part of the house, the entire reason she’d stretched her budget to purchase it, was the three-tiered backyard and the trees around the border of the property, which gave her the illusion of privacy in a city with 1.5 million people.

  Presley stretched out on the lounge chair on her screened-in porch and took a sip of wine. The scents from her rose garden drifted on the dewy air. The rain, the wine, the garden—and the subtle scents from all three—were making her sleepy. She had laundry to do and dinner to make, but she couldn’t muster the energy to get out of the chair.

  She’d been so busy at work the last few days that she and Evan hadn’t made any progress on the wedding preparations. They seemed to make progress in another area, though.

  Evan had texted her several times. He sent her random photos—a silly selfie he’d taken with a horse named Majesty; a magnificent sunset from a beach where he was taking a run; and the front of his cottage after planting the items he’d purchased from her nursery.

  There were other texts, too. The Good morning, sunshine she received each day was a simple message, but it made her feel all tingly inside to know that Evan woke up thinking about her, even though he’d texted at four in the morning. She knew from memory that chores started early at the ranch, but good grief. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world that would get her through a day that started so early.

  Presley stared blindly at the garden and listened to the rain patter overhead. She didn’t understand what was happening between them. Evan said they didn’t need to know right now. He was right, of course, since they hardly knew each other—the adult versions of each other, anyway—but her inclination was to put things into confined spaces and tag them with a label. Labels were safe. Labels told her where she stood. There were less surprises that way. Less heartache.

  Also, less fun. Less possibilities. Less room to discover something incredible, the wine whispered.

  Presley took another sip.

  It’s no wonder she hadn’t been able to maintain a long-term relationship. She hadn’t given any of the men she’d dated a chance. Not really. She’d built impenetrable walls around whatever man she was dating, stifling any opportunity they might have had to thrive and grow with her.

  Or maybe those walls are mine. Maybe I’m the one imprisoned inside.

  Presley set down her glass and sighed. The wine needed to shut the fuck up.

  To be fair, it wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to her. She was aware of her shortcomings when it came to giving herself to a man. And not in the naked sense. She’d always been able to separate the needs of her body from the needs of her heart.

  And there was her problem, she realized. The reason she hadn’t shed a tear over Brad. She hadn’t loved him. Oh, she tried to convince herself that she did because isn’t that what people who date are supposed to do? Move forward? Fall in love?

  Damn it.

  Those walls were hers. Built around her heart years ago, when she hadn’t been looking. Day-by-day, brick-by-brick, until she was protected and couldn’t be hurt again. Instead of a label, she’d slapped a lock on that sucker and thrown away the key. Or she thought she had. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Evan stirred something inside her. Something dark and dangerous and hungry, like a bear waking up from a long hibernation.

  Presley absently ran a thumb over her lips; her eyelids grew heavy.

  His texts were light and playful while the sun was up, but there was a distinct difference in the way Evan communicated after dark. His texts went from flirty to sexy, as if the thought of her texting him from her bed spoke to his baser needs.

  He missed her mouth, Evan had said. The feel of her lips under his, her soft moans teasing his tongue. He told her he couldn’t wait to taste her again.

  In private, Presley. Where I can take my time.

  She had no idea how she’d managed to let things get out of control. She’d gone from resolving to keep him at arm’s length to shoving her tongue down his throat in a just over a week. At this rate, she’d be pregnant with Evan’s baby by the end of the month.

  All right, that was the wine talking again. She was on the pill, so an unplanned pregnancy wasn’t probable, but damn. If Evan fucked like he kissed, she’d be willing to take the risk.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Presley downed the remaining wine in her glass. She reached for the open bottle sitting on the side table and served herself another round.

  She didn’t want to think about the night she’d painstakingly planned all those years ago. It didn’t matter anymore. Evan hadn’t shown up to take her virginity, so she’d given it to someone else, albeit years later. It had probably been for the best. Presley wouldn’t have been able to enjoy Evan then as she could now. She wasn’t an innocent girl anymore. She knew how to please a man, and Evan…he was definitely a man. A gorgeous, muscled, hot-blooded…

  Presley’s phone dinged on the table, and she glanced at the screen.

  Speak of the devil.

  A slow smile tugged at her mouth, the affection she’d once felt for this man stretching its wings to envelop her.

/>   She opened the message.

  Evan: Hey, sunshine. Go ahead and cross tuxedos off your list. The guys are set.

  Presley: Perfect. Crossing it off the list.

  Or she would, when she went back inside. For now, she was happy where she was.

  Evan: Good. I made some calls and found several bakeries that can make a last-minute wedding cake. You game for another round of tastings?

  Presley couldn’t stifle the giggle that bubbled out of her throat. Evan made some calls? Presley tried to imagine how those calls went. She knew all too well what it was like to have Evan’s voice against her ear, all warm with a hint of gravel. She could hear him now. Hello, ma’am, I’d like to sample your cake.

  Presley’s body gave an involuntary shudder, starting at her shoulders and landing solidly between her legs. Oh yeah, there were definitely a few bakery workers who were watching their store entrances right now, waiting for the man with the rich, lazy baritone to come sample their offerings.

  Not today, Satan, Presley thought as she typed out a response. Evan would not be tasting anyone’s cake without her.

  Presley: I’m game. Where and when?

  Evan: Tomorrow? I’ll pick you up.

  Presley: Sure. I don’t work on Mondays, so any time is fine.

  Several minutes passed before he responded.

  Evan: You’re off tomorrow? What are you doing right now?

  Presley snapped a picture of her glass with the half-empty bottle of wine sitting next to it. She hadn’t realized how much of the bottle she’d consumed, which would explain the light, pleasant feeling in her veins.

  She sent the picture to Evan without a caption. The image spoke for itself. She was relaxing. Enjoying a quiet Sunday evening on her porch.

  Her phone rang a few seconds later.

  “Drinking alone, sunshine?” Evan asked when she answered.

  Presley hummed as the heated molasses of his voice drizzled over her. She rubbed her hand against her belly, spreading the warmth around. “I like it when you call me that.”