Assigned (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 3)

by Paris Wynters

  Above our heads some loose balloons float away into the darkening sky. Lucas takes a bite of his dessert and appears to be calming down. I nudge him playfully with my shoulder. “Glad you agreed to come out.”

  “Thanks for the suggestion.” His smile is soft and not forced, almost reminiscent of the shy boy I once knew.

  I bite into the warm dough of my pretzel and chew as we take in the sights and sounds. There’s something special about the aromatic mix of fresh cotton candy and motor oil. Something that can only be found at a carnival. And the hum of the engines running the various trucks and rides is soothing.

  Lucas nudges me and points at the Fun House. “Wanna go?”

  I snort, my eyes focused on the bored attendant taking tickets at the entrance. “Sure. Beats sitting on the scratchy hay bale.”

  “Thought you’d be used to that.”

  “It’s not like I’m wearing a sturdy pair of jeans like I would be if I was back home on the ranch.” Instead, I’m wearing black yoga pants with pocketed sides, a bright-yellow blouse with embellished swirls around the neckline, and a pair of Chucks. None of which protects me from prodding hay.

  We finish our food and then head over to the haunted house. The place is packed. Lucas and I weave through the crowd. Someone bumps into me and I grab Lucas’s bicep to regain my balance.

  Holy crap.

  Lucas was always fit, but I don’t remember his arms feeling so solid. I swallow hard, my fingers curling around the vast muscle. He pulls me close and my heart begins to beat faster, body growing warmer. I look up momentarily as he glances down. His eyes are dilated and filled with a recognizable heat. I gulp and avert my gaze, almost thankful for the creepy clown laughter coming from the speakers.

  Total mood killer. So’s the monster mouth opening we have to walk through. I peer into the darkness in front of us.

  Lucas gives the attendant the tickets and I grab his hand as we enter. He looks down, then back at me. “Since when are you scared, Cupcake?”

  “Hello . . . don’t you remember the haunted house we went to our sophomore year? You had to pick me up and carry me out.” I’m not one for being scared in the first place. I don’t like horror movies or scary books. But the fire department that sponsored the attraction went all out. We’d heard it was the best and all the proceeds were going to charity. Plus, everybody was going. I’d strolled in thinking it would all be good fun, but then a guy in a hockey mask jumped out from behind a curtain waving an axe, and I’d started screaming and couldn’t stop.

  “Oh, yeah. How could I forget that? Had to throw you over my shoulder and double-time it out of there.” Lucas laughs and laces his fingers through mine. My heart stutters at the sensation and I find it hard to swallow. I can’t how much I missed his touch.

  A couple of laughing teens push past us and I collide into Lucas. He wraps his arm around me to steady me, and his solid body ignites my nerve endings. While his smell and the cadence of his voice are familiar, the way he has changed physically is new. And exciting.

  Ugh. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t gotten laid in like . . . forever.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

  I clear my throat and step away. “Just remembering old times.”

  His brow quirks, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. “Oh, yeah?”

  I smack his shoulder. “Not like that.”

  Totally like that.

  We both chuckle and continue on. Of course the theme of the attraction happens to be creepy clowns. Like super creepy. Complete with recorded laughter like I heard outside. Only the dark, cramped space heightens the fear factor. My mouth goes dry and my pulse begins to race. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Should’ve opted for the Ferris wheel.”

  “We can go there next if you want.” He smiles down at me.

  I nod, trying to be brave, but feel my lower lip tremble. Suddenly, Lucas is pulling me through the fun house as if trying to get us out of there like his life depended on it. Not that I mind. Definitely didn’t need a repeat performance of sophomore year. Then again, my hunky husband tossing me over his shoulder would be kinda hot.

  Ugh. Why do I keep going there? I’m happy that we’re friends, but I’m not sure I can chance anything more. There’d be no way to keep my Crohn’s a secret, and once that’s out, well, forget about it.

  We blow through the exit and are climbing into the chair for the Ferris wheel fifteen minutes later. Lucas hasn’t released my hand, nor do I want him to. I don’t mind the sideways glances either. Or how close he stands to me.

  He helps me in and the attendant secures the metal bar. We begin to climb and the sight is amazing. “The moon is so bright.”

  “Um-hum.”

  Below us, throngs of people move around, and I can’t believe how many are actually here. Crowded is an overstatement. Lucas extends his arm over the back of our seat and I scooch in closer, resting my head on his chest. It feels like it belongs there, like the most natural thing in the world.

  His heart is thudding fast.

  Neither of us says a word and we just take in the moment. I’m filled with both excitement and anticipation and a whole hell of a lot of nerves. I expected to be attracted to my husband. Hell, we were super passionate when we dated. But I didn’t think he’d feel that way about me. Not after the way I just let our relationship go, and didn’t bother to contradict my father when he said Lucas wasn’t good enough for me.

  But it appears I’m wrong.

  When I look up, he meets my gaze and holds it, inching his lips closer to mine. Lips I miss. They seem to be one of the few things about him that haven’t changed, and I want to get lost in them. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s opening a door I might not be able to close. I say it anyway. “Kiss me?”

  And he does. Softly.

  Too soft, almost as if he’s afraid.

  His hand rests below my ear, his thumb caressing my cheek as he deepens the kiss. I reach up and grab his head, pulling him closer, my tongue dancing with his. God, how I missed this. How I missed him.

  But then everything comes to a screeching halt. And not because of the ride.

  My body tenses as his fingers dip below the hem of my shirt. No, I’m not ready for him to discover the rough skin from my scars. Or explain to him how I ended up with both a colostomy and ileostomy bag for a while after one of my surgeries. Or how I had my intestines resected.

  Not yet anyway.

  So, I break our kiss and pull away. “Luc, I’m not sure we should go any further than kissing.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean . . . shit.” He leans back. “Didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  The hurt in his eyes twists my heart. It’s familiar. Not as deep as the day I broke his heart, but still recognizable. Time to ease the tension. “Don’t apologize. We have history. It’s familiar. I just don’t want to jump into anything.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, we aren’t teenagers anymore, even if we were just making out like them.”

  I rest my head against his shoulder and can’t help but smile. Truly smile. Maybe people do get second chances.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucas

  The beach is quieter than normal; only a few joggers and swimmers are here. Seaweed rolls in the surf as white caps slap against the shore. It’s not too hot and the cool breeze is refreshing. My wife is walking along beside me holding my hand. Perfect day for the beach. Perfect day for yoga.

  I can’t believe we’ve been married almost a month now. Time sure does fly by, and work doesn’t seem to help. But I’m doing the best I can and so far Riley seems to be adapting well. Then again, unlike Texas, she doesn’t have to travel far to hit the waves to surf. And my wife seems to make it to the beach at least once a week, gauging by the sand she tends to leave behind in the garage.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve done any poses. Your mom would be so upset.” Riley walks into the water a little way, flinching when her feet hit the cold water.


  I laugh and the few seagulls in the area begin squawking as if joining in. Riley pouts, then kicks water my way. I jump back, only a few drops managing to land on my clothes. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to go swimming, and the ocean is cold as fuck right now.”

  She puts her fisted hands on her hips and lifts her chin. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I quirk a brow. “Try me.”

  She looks from me to the water, then back at me, biting her lower lip. She kicks water my way again, but not much, then dashes away toward our blankets. I laugh and chase her. Would I actually throw her in the water? Maybe one day, but not now. Things are going so well. No need to push too far or too fast.

  When I catch up to her, she smiles, bends down and grabs two bottles of water from her backpack. She tosses one to me, then takes a sip from hers. Behind her, two surfers stroll down from the parking lot. She turns to watch them. While Riley enjoys surfing, it’s not totally my thing, but yoga is something we used to do together.

  She turns back to me and asks, “Your mom still teaching?”

  I swallow the water in my mouth and place the cap back on the bottle. “Not as much, but yes. She teaches in a small studio a couple of days a week.”

  “That’s great. I always admired how fit and flexible she is.”

  “Yoga’ll do that for you. And more,” I say. “You remember Stephens? I mean Jim. Taya’s husband.”

  “From the barbeque? The first of you to go through the program?” She nods.

  The barbeque had gone better than expected. None of my friends teased me too much about my participation in the program. Bear and Tony are a bit skeptical about me being assigned to Riley, but Jim thinks I should give it a shot and let the past be. Riley and I were still teenagers. It was her dad that really got between us. All that crap about how a kid from the trailer park would never be able to take care of his little princess. I hadn’t thought Riley would have ever believed that, but it’s hard to stand up to someone like her father. It’s hard not to want to be treated like a princess.

  I shake my head from side to side, pinching the bridge of my nose. Hasn’t she already shown how much she’s changed just by moving away from her parents? By living in that dumpy little studio apartment rather than take their money?

  When I refocus on her, she’s staring, waiting for me to continue. I scratch the back of my head and try to figure out how to explain what I want to say about Jim. “Yeah. Well, Jim had some injuries and if you haven’t picked up on it, he’s a very old school kinda guy. Had him try yoga. Actually, he gave it a shot right when he and Taya got together. Made a huge difference for him. Physically, mentally, emotionally. All of it. I connected him with Mom, and she told me he reaches out to her every now and then asking questions about different workouts to help with some residual issues.”

  “Seriously?” Riley shakes her head, a big smile on her face. “Then why is he so grumpy? You’d think he might have found some inner peace.”

  “Tough to say. He’s gone through a lot.”

  A lot doesn’t scratch the surface and, in retrospect, my issues are nothing compared to what Stephens has experienced. Sometimes I feel like an ass for complaining. Really, my current issues with Mason are the only thing that compares in seriousness to his. Not to mention, he’s saved my ass more than once in a firefight.

  Riley tosses her water bottle onto the towel and I follow suit. She places her hands above her head and stretches. The long apricot-colored T-shirt she wears barely comes up to her hips. It’s practically a dress. I hope it doesn’t get in her way. “Ready?”

  “Yup. Warm up?”

  She nods and walks a few feet away from the blanket and me so that we have space. We are parallel to one another, facing the water. Shoulder rolls are a great way to begin to loosen the body. I close my eyes and lift my shoulders toward my ears, then slowly pull my shoulder blades back and then down, taking in controlled breaths as I repeat the movement. In through the nose, out through the mouth, the briny sea air flooding my olfactory receptors.

  We move on to neck stretches, continuing to focus on breathing. Standing with my legs hip-width apart, I inhale through my nose and then exhale out my mouth, slowly bending forward at the waist. My hands rest in the warm, white sand as I stretch out my lower back. This is one of the stretches I did multiple times a day when overseas, along with the standing side stretch.

  Riley turns and faces me. “Which poses should we do?”

  “What are you still able to do?”

  “How about Downward Dog, Cobra, Warrior 1, and Navasana?”

  I rub my hands together to brush the sand off of them. “Can you still do the King Pigeon?”

  “Think so.”

  After taking a couple of centered breaths, we begin flowing through each of the poses. Plank to Cobra to Downward Dog. Soon sweat lines my forehead and I welcome the cool breeze. On occasion, I glance over at Riley to make sure she is okay. She’s focused, locked in. Just like she used to be whenever we attended one of my mother’s classes.

  I lift my right leg high and then step it between my hands and rise up into Warrior I. I stop for a second and just watch. Riley is in Warrior I, too, sunlight reflecting off the blue sea in front of her. Strong and supple, her arms lifted high, chest open and proud. Picture perfect. She always did take my breath away. Still does.

  Refocusing, I flow to the ground and then move on to Navasana, balancing on my sit bones, legs and arms extended into a V. Then I move forward into King Pigeon. Riley struggles a bit with the hip-opening pose but doesn’t give up. When we are done, we both grab our bottles of water. Sweat drips down our necks.

  “That was awesome. I haven’t done this in so long, and on the beach no less. There’s something serene about being out here.” Riley folds her arms and shifts from foot to foot. “I want to see if I can still do Scorpion pose.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Ambitious if you haven’t done it in a while.” I remember the first time she nailed that pose in class. The strength it takes to balance on your forearms while inverting yourself and doing a backbend makes it a pretty big accomplishment. She hadn’t been able to help herself back then. She’d let out a big whoop before collapsing to the ground. The whole class had cracked up and then given her a standing ovation.

  “Go big or go home, right? It’s kind of the Texas way.” She grins. “I’ve got this.”

  I shrug. “Just don’t hurt yourself.”

  “I know my limits.” Riley gets down on her knees and refocuses. She begins to get in position, balancing on her forearms, and she kicks her legs up in the air. When she starts to bend at the knees, bringing her feet toward her head, I see her wobble. As she arches to try to balance, I place my hand on her abdomen to steady her and between gravity and her movement, that dress-like shirt starts to lift.

  “What the fuck, Lucas?” Riley falls sideways and springs to her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I was just trying to help you.” I stiffen, immediately replaying what just happened in my mind. Did I touch her in some sexual way without her permission? No, my hands weren’t anywhere near her breasts. Nor was any part of my body pressing against hers.

  “I told you I wasn’t ready for that . . . that kind of touching.” Her arms go around her stomach like she’s protecting something precious.

  I hold up both hands, palms facing her with splayed fingers. “I only wanted to keep you from falling over. Swear it.”

  Her chin wobbles like she might cry. “Well, it sure felt like that kind of touching.” She throws on her sweatshirt, then bends over to collect her things. “I’d like to go home now.”

  I watch her march away from me back to the truck. Every damn thing I do is wrong. No matter how hard I try, it’s like I’ll never get it right.

  My throat tightens.

  Or be good enough. Her father’s words replay in my head. Just a stupid kid from the trailer park who will never amount to anything.

  Grabbing the to
wel, I shove it into the bag and collect my crap. Each breath I take is sharp, shallow. So much for a fresh start. Damn woman walked away from me again. Just like last time. Who knows what will set her off because I sure as shit have no idea. And then what? She’ll walk right out the door breaking my heart. Mason’s heart.

  This is exactly what Lisa had a problem with. Granted, maybe I overshared with my ex-wife, even possibly exaggerated about Riley’s cruelty. But still, Lisa is Mason’s mother and like me, she only wants the best for her son. Maybe I should listen to her instincts since mine clearly suck.

  I lean back and fall onto the sand, resting my face in my hands. Lisa. The first sign that something was wrong in our marriage was when she pulled away from me physically, didn’t want me to touch her. Is this the first sign our relationship will never work? Riley doesn’t want me to touch her, just like Lisa didn’t want me to touch her. They’re so different, those two. Dark and light. Different personalities. Different hopes and dreams. There’s really only one common denominator—me.

  Maybe Riley’s dad was right. I’m the problem. Two women walking away, there’s really no other explanation.

  Chapter Ten

  Riley

  After we’d gotten back from the beach, I’d showered and retreated to my room. I spent the rest of the day applying for jobs online and reading, then tossing from one side of the bed to the other during the night. Now I’m hiding under the covers, continuing to avoid my husband.

  Why did he have to ruin everything? We’d been fine, having a nice time, doing our yoga. Why’d he have to put his big paws on me? And why did the ways he helped always have to be way more than I wanted?

  I punch the pillow and scream into it. It’s not his fault. Well, not completely. I’m partly to blame. But I’m just not ready to explain my whole medical history. Which means I need to be more understanding when things become uncomfortable.

  My head jerks up when the thunk of three knocks on my bedroom door fill the air. “We need to leave soon,” Lucas says.