by Cat Johnson
“And he died too,” she reminded her sister.
“Like fifteen years later. He was old.”
“It still hurt.”
“Don’t be sad it’s over. Be happy it happened.”
Alicia pulled her mouth to one side. “Don’t quote your inspirational coffee mugs to me.”
Jen lifted a brow. “Just because it’s on a coffee mug, doesn’t make it any less true.”
She had doubts about that, but while standing next to tile adhesive in the Home Depot wasn’t the time or the place to debate it. “I hear what you’re saying, Jen. It still doesn’t mean I’m ready for a serious relationship with Brian. Or anyone for that matter.”
There was still a box of Greg’s stuff sitting by her front door waiting to be mailed back. That served well to remind her of her last mistake. She wasn’t going to leap head-first into her next one.
No matter how hot and sweet and deceivingly perfect Brian was.
No man was perfect. No relationship was without problems. Not even the fake ones.
She’d just have to get through navigating a few bumps in the road of this one without Jen figuring it out. Namely, his message and texts she didn’t reply to but that kept coming anyway.
Damned stubborn SEAL.
She’d orchestrated a fake boyfriend to keep her life free and simple, and yet somehow he was causing her very real grief.
That pretty much settled it in her mind. Men were bad news. And she was better off without one.
TWENTY-SIX
A ten-mile run in full kit. It should have purged all thoughts of her from his brain. It didn’t.
Alicia had been ground in, stuck in his mind like sand on wet skin during BUD/S.
But unlike doing sugar cookies on the beach during Hell Week, which he’d gladly never do again, he couldn’t get enough of Alicia.
She continued to torture him with her silence and yet he was actively, willingly, going back for more.
“Hey. Liam,” he said between gasped breaths when he pulled up next to his teammate as they neared the end of the run.
“Yeah,” Liam replied, sounding just as breathless.
“You think you could . . . help me out . . . with something?” The fucking run was making it harder to ask for help than it normally would have been for Brian, who usually liked to keep things to himself. At least when it came to his love life.
“Sure. What?” Liam asked.
“I wanna . . . surprise Alicia . . . and sing a sea shanty to her. At McP’s. Would you . . . back me up?” Sometimes even loners needed back up. Particularly when probable public ridicule was involved.
At least, thank Christ, they’d reached the end of the damn run.
Liam slowed to a walk. Brian matched his pace.
He regretted doing that when Liam turned and, his face flushed and sweaty from exertion, flashed him a cocky grin. “You’re pulling out all the stops for this one, huh? I’ve never seen you like this with a woman. Alicia has you all twisted up. So tell me, what is it about her that won the heartbreaker’s heart?”
He couldn’t deny he was going all out for Alicia so he didn’t try.
Brian snorted. “Hell, if I know.”
But the truth was he did know, or at least suspected, part of the reason. What if he wanted Alicia so badly because she didn’t want him? And if that were true, what kind of shit man did that make him?
Although, there were all the many other things he loved about her that added to the attraction. Or perhaps obsession was a better word.
How she continuously surprised him in some ways, but was so predictable in others. How she loved her sister, even while being completely annoyed with her at the same time. How she had shelves overflowing with books and also a drawer stuffed full of sex toys.
He could spend a lifetime with her and never get bored.
And that thinking a word like lifetime hadn’t sent him straight to a rebound woman’s bed or the bottom of a bottle of booze proved something. Alicia was different.
Or, no, maybe he was different because of her.
How he felt about her was certainly different because Liam was right, he’d never acted like this over a woman before.
“So a serenade at McP’s, huh? Okay. I’m game. Which song did you have in mind?” Liam asked as they headed inside to the cages to dump off their gear.
“Well, I googled sea shanties—” he began.
“You googled?” Liam asked, staring at him through the cage’s wire.
“Yes. Why?” He dropped his pack and stripped off his sweaty shirt as the rest of the team started to filter in.
Liam lifted a shoulder. “Oh, nothing. I always do a thorough internet search before I get drunk and sing to the woman I love in a bar.”
The woman he loved . . . Liam’s words slapped Brian smack in the face, forcing him to consider, did he? Love her?
Fuck. He might. Which meant this plan to get her back had better frigging work.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I was thinking Rolling Down to Old Maui but we change the lyrics to be Old McP’s instead. What do you think? Is it stupid?”
Self-doubt assaulted him as he realized this might be the most ludicrous idea he’d ever had.
He was going to fall flat on his face. In the middle of McP’s. In front of countless friends, strangers and fellow SEALs.
Liam let out a laugh. “No. Actually, I love it. And everybody at McP’s is going to love it too.”
Brian perked up a bit, encouraged. “Really? You think so?”
“Yup. Hell. That might be the one thing that’s missing at McP’s. A good old Irish singalong. So what’s the plan?”
He had been keeping the discussion strictly between him and Liam until he’d gotten feedback on the crazy idea, but now, he glanced around at the team that filled the room. “I think we have to see who’s available and willing to be there with us. Maybe have a rehearsal before. I can print out the lyrics for anyone who doesn’t know it, since you might be the only one who does. Then I have to get Alicia down there.”
“You have a plan for that?” Liam asked. “Getting her there?”
“I do.” With a little help from Alicia’s friend Shelly, he might actually be able to pull this off.
“All right. When are you planning on doing this?”
He had thought about that too. “I hope tomorrow night. I don’t want to wait. In case, you know . . .”
“In case we get spun up again and yanked out of the country. Gotcha. Okay, you want me to start asking the guys and see who’s in?” Liam asked.
“That would help. Thanks. That way I can get started on the plan to get her there.”
“You got it. Anything for you, Heartbreaker.” Liam grinned.
For once, that name didn’t grate on his nerves. He was too busy pulling Shelly’s business card out of the wallet he’d had stashed in his locker in the cage.
He desperately needed to shower after that run, but this phone call couldn’t wait.
After three eternal rings that had his heart pounding, and not from the run, Shelly answered with a cautious, professional tone, saying, “This is Shelly.”
“Hi, it’s Brian. Alicia’s . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to say fake boyfriend, but he wasn’t her real one either. “. . . friend. We met at McP’s?”
“Hi, Brian. I remember. What’s up?”
“I had a crazy idea and I need your help.”
“Crazy is my middle name. What do you need from me?”
“Do you think you can get Alicia to McP’s tomorrow at like about five?” he asked.
She let out a short burst of air. “Is that all? Sure. That’s easy. Whatcha gonna do when she gets there?”
Getting Alicia to talk to him would be a nice start. He kept that to himself and said, “Don’t laugh, but I’ve worked it out so me and a couple of the guys are going to sing to her.”
“Oh my God,” she squealed. “That’s absolutely perfect. One of her favorite movies is Top Gu
n. We just watched it together the other night. You know that scene where Tom Cruise sings to Kelly McGillis in the bar?”
He’d seen the movie. He hadn’t known it was one of her favorites. But now that he did, it almost seemed like fate. And for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to feel the hope that started to grow inside him.
This crazy idea just might work.
TWENTY-SEVEN
It had been a shit day.
Back to back appointments all day long, punctuated in the middle by a half hour for lunch where the deli got her delivered order completely wrong.
Alicia didn’t usually let work get to her but today it had. Then again nothing had felt right lately.
She refused to think she’d felt off since she’d cut things off with Brian.
Of course, it could also be Greg’s sudden reappearance in her life that had destroyed her ch’i.
She was just considering bailing on her plans with Shelly to go home and put on PJs and wallow when her phone’s display lit and her friend’s name and face appeared.
“Hey, Shell.”
“Hey, yourself. I’m on my way to McP’s. Did you leave yet?”
“About that . . .” she began.
“Oh my God. You are not backing out on me.”
She sighed. “Can’t we do it another night?”
“No. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m out of work on time for once and you never know when that will happen again.”
“I’m just tired—”
“Please, Alicia. You have to meet me at McP’s,” Shelly begged.
She let out a short laugh at the desperation in her friend’s voice. “Why? Why do I have to meet you at McP’s?”
“Because, I, uh . . . I . . . I met a guy. Yup. I did. And I want you to meet him.”
“You met someone? When?” She frowned. She didn’t like feeling like an outsider in her best friend’s life.
“The other night, when it was Joanne’s birthday party.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, because you’ve been so down in the dumps lately about men.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to date just because I don’t want to.” She could be happy for her friend, even if she was unhappy with her own situation. At least, she would try.
“Well, I wasn’t sure. Anyway, I promised him he could meet you. Tonight. At five o’clock. He’s going to be there. And he’s very busy so I don’t know when he’ll be available again. It has to be tonight.”
Her frown deepened. She didn’t like the idea of a guy so busy he wasn’t around a lot. She was hit with visions of those men on Dateline, who juggled multiple women—multiple families even—while lying to them all.
What if Shelly’s new man was a lying, cheating, bigamist?
She needed to meet him and judge for herself. It might just save her friend. “All right. I’m leaving right now. I’ll see you at McP’s.”
Shelly blew out a breath. “Good. I’m so happy you’re coming. See you there.”
Her friend disconnected before Alicia could fully process her friend’s overwhelming relief.
Maybe Shelly had a gut instinct about this new guy herself and wanted Alicia’s opinion. Even more reason why she had to show up to meet him.
Her plans for pajamas and ice cream would just have to wait until later. Her friend needed her.
McP’s was hopping by the time she arrived. Parking was worse than usual. And stepping inside, she saw there wasn’t an empty seat and barely a spot to stand. Hopefully Shelly had gotten them a table.
She pulled out her cell, about to text her friend and ask where she was sitting, when she heard it. A steady rhythmic pounding, like a fist on a table.
It was soon joined by more pounding, this time coming from the vicinity of the bar.
The first words of a familiar song hit her ears. “It's a damn tough life full of toil and strife we whaler men undergo . . .”
She glanced around to see who was singing and almost fell off her heels when she saw Brian step forward from the crowd.
“And we don't give a damn when the day is done. How hard the winds did blow.”
Two more men stepped forward and, with perfect harmony, provided background for Brian’s melody.
“'cause we're homeward bound from the Arctic ground with a good ship, taut and free. And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum . . .”
More voices joined in to sing, “With the girls of Old McP's.”
Alicia laughed at how they’d changed the words of the old whaling song.
Apparently the crowd inside McP’s approved of the alteration. They broke into whoops, cheers and applause at that last line.
Then it seemed like the whole bar joined in on the singing for the chorus.
“Rolling down to Old McP's, me boys. Rolling down to McP's. We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground. Rolling down to Old McP's.”
It was an amazing serenade, apparently just for her since Brian and a group of what must be his teammates faced her to sing it.
And yeah, she was embarrassed at the attention. The introvert tendencies inside her were strong. But still she couldn’t help smiling.
“Once more we sail with a northerly gale, towards our island home.” Ray, the old bartender had taken over singing the melody with more than enough voices to back him up.
Smiling, Brian stepped away from the group and made his way toward Alicia.
“Hey,” he said as he stood right in front of her while Ray continued singing.
“What are you doing?” she asked, still blown away.
“Getting your attention. You weren’t returning my calls or texts. I had to do something. I figured a grand gesture might do it. Did it work?” he asked, looking adorably unsure as he reached out and took her hands in his.
“Yes, it worked. But did you have to do it in quite such a grand way?” she asked, sure her cheeks were bright red.
“To be fair, it was just supposed to be me and a couple of my teammates. But word got out and it kind of grew.” He glanced around at the bar with standing room only.
“It sure did.” Alicia spotted Shelly across the bar.
Her friend, who looked like she was in heaven being surrounded by dozens of singing sailors, smiled and waved at her and then went back to singing along with the song.
“Did you ask Shelly to get me here?” she asked, piecing it all together. Now that odd phone call made sense.
“Yes. Sorry.” He had the decency to look guilty about that fact. “I saw her here the other night. She was at some birthday party.”
So Brian was the mystery man Shelly had met. Her friend was an excellent liar. She’d have to remember that.
The song continued around her growing louder with each stanza. It brought back memories of her dad. But hearing a group sing it, in harmony, made it different.
The group effort added another layer. A sound her father, singing alone, or even with her accompanying him, couldn’t achieve. A richness that elevated the performance to impressive levels.
And Brian had organized it all.
He had to have remembered the sea shanty albums on her shelf. And her telling him about her father’s singing.
His attention to details, he effort to organize this, it was touching.
This guy. He wasn’t like other men.
Dammit, she had to admit that now. And accept it. And yes, maybe even give him, give them, a chance.
She found herself getting emotional and brushed aside the tears that hearing the song her father had sung for so many years of her childhood had caused.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” she asked Brian. She was ready to be out of the crowd and noise. Ready to be alone with this man.
A feral groan came from Brian as he leaned closer, then pulled away. “Yes. And no.”
“I don’t understand.” She laughed, confused.
“Yes, I want nothing more than t
o come back to your place. But not if it’s going to be like it was before. Just sex and then you send me packing right after.”
“You stayed over the whole night once.”
“Spending the night isn’t what I’m talking about. I want to date you. I want to take you out to dinner. Bring you here for drinks with the guys. Have vegan lasagna at your sister’s place.”
Wow. Even she didn’t want to do that last one.
“But you have to want that too.” He pinned her with a stare. “I want you to know, I’ve decided to be more like our mutual friend Andrew.”
She frowned. “Ugh. How? Why?”
“I’m going to be a man who doesn’t take no for an answer. From now on, I won’t accept no from you when I ask you out on a date. A real date. And that’s the only way I’ll agree to come back to your place for . . . the booty, as you call it.”
Alicia pressed her lips together and locked her gaze on his. “Those are your conditions?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded somberly.
“No negotiations?” she asked.
“Nope. And no trial period either.”
It was impressive, his will power.
As impressive as the hard-on she felt pressed between them, proving how much he did want to come home with her. Yet, he was still sticking to his guns, so to speak.
She could have tortured him longer, but she was finished. She wanted to get out of there as much as he did. “Okay. I will agree to your terms.”
His eyes brightened. “You will?”
“Yes. Any man who goes to all the trouble of having an entire bar sing to me is worth taking a chance on.”
“To be perfectly honest, I was a little afraid I was going to fall flat on my face with this grand plan. But I guess it worked out.” Brian glanced around them where every man, and a lot of the women, were still singing the song he’d started.
“It wasn’t that much of a stretch. It is an Irish pub,” she said. “The Irish are famous for their singing.”
“True. And sailors have historically been known to sing,” he agreed.
