“You ride, and I’ll cut a rug,” I say, grabbing his arm and following him into the dining room where my daddy’s friend, Grace, has a prepared meal. She’s already gone home to her own house, but I have a feeling she’s here more than she’s not when I’m not here. It would be just like my daddy to hide a relationship from me. It’s a wonder I feel the way I do about dating after my marriage to Stone.
My mom left when I was two. I’ve never wondered who she was or why she left because I grew up fine without her. Daddy said she had problems with commitment. Sounds like a bad time to realize that after you get married and have a baby, but who am I to judge? Grace has been around for a long time and I’m glad that he’s not alone here. Daddy has a lot of help running the farm and I think he pretty much just works when he wants to or feels up to it nowadays. Even then, it’s not the manual labor he used to do.
Dinner is delicious and I make it a point to dial up Grace and thank her for cooking, and ask if she’ll be so kind as to cook and stay next time. Luckily she agrees. After an awkward conversation about our sleeping arrangements, and questions about how my work has been, we’re done for the day. Plans have been made to ride horses before the sun comes up and then make a stop at Steven’s house for breakfast with his family.
“I haven’t been in this room for a long time,” I whisper to Steven in the hallway. He reads between the lines.
“Since Stone.”
I nod, pushing open the door. Grace has it decorated simply. A few of my things from my childhood are still scattered around, but it’s mostly different. I sigh in relief. She’s redecorated, knowing it would be easier to return to this way. It’s just a guestroom now. My view is still overlooking the garden, with the trellis leading up to my window.
“At least I only have to creep down the hallway to share your bed instead of climbing three stories while I question my sanity. I should have known back then what a badass I’d grow up to be.” He muses to himself as he glances down toward the garden.
I laugh. “You really were crazy. I can’t believe you risked it.”
“I’d risk anything for you,” he counters.
I turn on him, dread shooting up my spine. “Don’t say that, Steven. Don’t you dare say things like that.”
Steven bites down on his bottom lip and tilts his head in question. “Some things just are, Morganna. You have no control over them. When something was good for you, I’d never stop it—if you were sad or in danger, that would take precedence. If you’re ordering me to not throw myself on grenades for my best friends, don’t worry. That’s not me, Morg. I lived for a reason and, by God, I’m not giving that to chance—I’m owning it. It’s not, ‘it is what it is’. It’s what you make it. I’m making the most of this with you. Maybe I’m selfish and unworthy of the brotherhood for admitting this, but it’s the honest truth. We’re different. We truly are. I know sometimes you look at me or listen to me and you see him, but that’s just because you’re drawn to similar men.” He sighs long and hard, wrapping his hands behind his head. His gaze floats to the ceiling. “It’s just coincidence that Stone and I have the same occupation. You can’t dwell if we’re going to move forward. Focus on the differences. Focus on the present. The future.”
It’s the very first time he’s said something like this. I’m sure he’s thought it before. I could get angry because it’s my business how I move forward, not his, but I admire the courage it took to speak such truthful words. Most pour sugar on everything they say regarding Stone.
“You’re right.”
He scoffs. “That’s all I’m getting?”
Crickets chirp and the noises of the ranch lull me. “It’s just a lot to take in. Being here for the first time without him. It’s a lot.” I spin, to find him backing toward my door.
He holds up his cell. “I have some calls to make. I missed some training today,” he says, trying and failing to mask the pain my words caused. “Sleep well, M.” He closes the door behind him without my response.
Turning back to my deep-thinking-window-gazing, I whisper, “I love you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Steven
Past
EVEN THE CRAZIEST motherfuckers have something to lose. I learned that quickly after becoming a Navy SEAL. The training was difficult, demanding of my mind and body. I welcomed the challenges. All of them. The failure rate is high? Watch me succeed. I never knew how to not do something properly as long as I was shown the correct way to do an action.
Like the first time I killed a man. It was my first deployment and after I pulled the trigger and watched the man slump down a wall I thought, “That was too easy.” It’s unlike in my dreams when a home intruder barrels into my bedroom and my gun keeps firing, but the bad guy keeps coming at me, unfazed by my supposedly lethal bullets. Killing men in real life is easy. I know where to aim, what will happen, and the repercussions that follow. Did it change me? I don’t think so. It changes the person who has been killed. Me? I was trained to do it. Trained to succeed in whatever action I pursue. The other guy ceases to exist, his family and friends feel a loss. That’s change.
That’s the fucking kicker when it comes to my personal life. I can’t get a damn girlfriend that holds my interest. Between the two I currently have, I think it’s a nice balance. If I could merge them into one human by doing some chemistry, maybe they could be the one person I settle down with. As it stands, I crave a strong friendship that sparks something more, something deeper, and I don’t have that with my girlfriends.
“Steve, it’s not like you don’t have role models. Look at your parents’ relationship. We’ve been together forever. We’re normal, well situated individuals. Can’t you bring one of your girlfriends home for Christmas one of these days?” My mother is pleading now. She senses my problems with finding the right one, too. I’ll bring a girlfriend home next year just to placate her, and so I can fuck. Because damn, going a whole week and a half without a lay is tough and I don’t cheat on them even though I probably could. My dating life is precarious and odd to most. There’s no way I can spill those details to Sandra Warner. She’d bake a tin of brownies and then combust into dust motes made of chocolate.
“I’ll go out to the country bar tonight, Mom. I’ll find a real winner. Marry a nice southern girl. Give you some grandbabies that you will probably never see because she’ll divorce me when she understands how many days out of the year I’ll be gone.” I smile, raising one brow. “Sound like a plan?”
She scowls. “You are incorrigible. You know that? You wouldn’t be in this situation at all if you dealt with your emotions instead of sitting on them.” She’s referring to Morganna Sterns. The woman who got away. “That’s a southern girl who would make any family proud.”
I nod. “She married a great guy, Mom. Every other guy on the planet pales in comparison to Stone. I only wanted the best for her anyways. She got it. I’m happy for her.” Lie.
“Fine. Go out to the bar tonight. Don’t bring home any promiscuous young things.”
I laugh, ask her for some baked goods, and contemplate whether banging a promiscuous young thing may be worth it. My girls would never know and maybe, just maybe, she’ll have an accent, drive a hard bargain, and have a horrible singing voice.
_______________
The country bar was fun. A bunch of my old buddies were there and we drank too much, which led to dancing too much, which led to making out with some random brunette in a bathroom stall. Bless her heart, she dropped to her knees to suck my cock, but my girlfriend’s face flashed in my mind at that most inopportune moment and I couldn’t let it happen. I may talk a big game, but at the end of the day my mom is right. I’ve had excellent role models and even I have my crazy ass limits. She didn’t have an accent, either.
That night I got dropped off by one of my sober friends and found my way into my childhood bedroom. I don’t sleep in here when I come home because it has a twin bed and my feet dangle off the end, but it still holds everythi
ng that reminds me of the past. The stuff I couldn’t fit or take with me to San Diego is also here.
I dig through a trunk of stuff I sent home when I was in between apartments and was going to spend a long period of time overseas. Nestled in one messy corner is a jewelry box. Something I planned to give to Morganna when she came out to visit me. I was going to lay it all out there for her, tell her how I felt, and ask her to be mine. Unfortunately, as soon as Stone locked his gaze on Morg, it was over. Does love at first sight really exist? I think it may have for Stone. She hadn’t even spoken a word and he had to have her for his own. His mind was made up on the spot. I saw her eyes spark when I made introductions, and it was foreign.
She never looked at me that way. I knew that was it. That was the beginning of the end. I threw in the towel and hoped a friendship could be salvaged. I’ve kept the red box ever since. The necklace was expensive, probably the first thing that I purchased when I started getting real paychecks and I was so excited to show her.
I open the velvet lid and irony glares at me. It’s a delicate, platinum chain with a charm—an S iced with diamonds. It was half joke, half serious, just like my personality. I slam the lid and put the box back into the trunk where it will remain for the rest of time, or until I get mad one day and pawn it. I fall into the small bed with the brunette’s lipstick smeared on my face and collar of my shirt. I dream of a different brunette—a raven-haired beauty, with pouty lips and a strong mind…a woman who would never hit her knees in a public restroom. Fuck, and most importantly…a woman who is completely off limits.
Morganna
Past
“You can’t be serious. We’ve reorganized and packed every box multiple times.” I eye down the stack of boxes that he wants me to check again. We’re moving into our first home together after the wedding, which was a simple affair. My stuff is already in the house, which is new construction built exactly to our specifications. Stone’s stuff is still strewn all over his bachelor pad in organized piles. Even my own OCD doesn’t compare to his. I’m tired, looking like a haggard kitchen maid after Thanksgiving dinner. I want nothing to do with packing, but I do want to move out of here.
Stone grunts as he lifts a heavy box to the pile on the left side. That means it’s kitchen equipment. “What is in that one?”
“Come on, Morg. You know to check the sheet on the side of the box.” He gives me that panty-dropping grin and I’m done for. Shaking my head, I step over piles of his crap and fall into his arms. I tilt my head to the side, waiting for his kiss on my neck. My hair is tied up in a bandana, and my denim overalls went out of style fifteen years ago, but Stone looks at me like I rolled off of the pages of a nudie mag and into the world just for his pleasure. “I love it when you’re dirty,” he whispers in my ear before biting it.
“You also love it when I’m clean, sweaty, and everything in between. It’s okay. I love it when you’re all of the above, too.”
Stone serenades me with a funny song about love before dipping me backwards over a pile of yearbooks. I’m still upside down when his apartment door opens and his buddies rush in to help him move stuff. There’s no need to hire movers when there’s friends with muscles like these.
Maverick walks in first, followed by Steven. Well, I know it’s them because of their shoes. Stone pulls me up and kisses me passionately before breaking away to organize…again. I fix my unruly hair and start idle chitchat with Mav and Steven.
“I thought you’d have this stuff boxed up, dude,” Maverick yells, interrupting our own conversation. I hear Stone cackle and I shake my head. It’s Maverick’s problem now. Steven smiles, the real smile, when I meet his gaze.
“Hey, you,” I say. Things became strained after I started dating Stone with my friendship with Steven. No one could help it. It fizzled like most male and female relationships do when the other begins a serious relationship. I’ll always wonder what could have been with Steven Warner, but he never showed any interest outside of friendship so I never pushed it.
Running a hand through his longish hair, he replaces his backwards ball cap. “Hey back. You sure have a mess in here. Are you going crazy?”
I peek left and right and nod vigorously. He stifles a laugh and asks me about my daddy. I ask him about his family and we talk a little bit about things that are going on back home. A few funny stories later, Steven starts loading boxes into the waiting trucks outside and Maverick, bless his heart, starts packing boxes that won’t need to be checked by Stone. He knows “his way.”
I kick an empty bottle of booze out of my way. “Where the hell were you a few days ago, Maverick? You could have saved me!” I yell in mock protest.
Stone grabs the rolling bottle, shaking it in my direction. “That’s a keepsake, Morg. You can’t kick keepsakes.”
I turn my face to the ceiling and shake my head. When I glance back, Stone breaks out in a dance from the night when he consumed the bottle of liquor. Or so he’s prattling on about. I’m wildly disgusted and curious when Maverick and Steven join in. It’s like a choreographed, puppet show—ass slapping, booty twerking, fake licking, dick grabbing, shirt removing shit show. There’s no other way to describe it. Maverick, the only one with a singing voice, sings a chorus about nonsense while the other two rap about hookers and blow. The only reason they stop is because they realize an intruder is watching their interactions. Me. I wave at them. Steven waves the liquor bottle back at me with a goofy grin. Maverick and Stone laugh in unison.
“And I drove that night,” Maverick says proudly. He performs acts of insanity sober. I’m not sure which is worse. Stone walks over and with one finger under my chin he closes my slack-jawed mouth.
I nod continuously, pressing my lips into a thin line. “That was beautiful, really something special. Please tell me there’s not a box packing number.”
Stone leans over to make sure no one else hears. “You have the only box I want to pack.”
I kiss him passionately, promising him my box later. The quicker the better. Box in every room of our new house if we have enough time. That sets the needed fire under his butt to get motivated. The guys work tirelessly, only stopping for a quick lunch that Phillipe drops by, and we’re in our new house by dinnertime. Steven and Maverick stick around to help Stone with the heavier furniture, which isn’t much. We’ve hired designers to decorate the new house. Living in apartments, we haven’t accumulated much in our short adult lives. I have a few pieces that are nice only because I felt the need to spend my paychecks on something. I work too hard to not have anything to show for it.
“Attention, guys! Attention,” Stone yells, garnering curious glances from the three of us. He turns to me. “You’re so awesome, Morg. I haven’t told you that today. Thank you for dealing with me. Not only are you this attractive, professional…you love me like a mad beast. What did I do to deserve you?” Stone says, complimenting my moving skills. I press my mouth against his in a kiss as an answer. Electricity courses through my body and I know I’ll never get enough of this man, or stop wanting him with every fiber of my being. Steven clears his throat from the other side of the counter.
“See you guys later,” Steven says, approaching the door.
I call after him, “Wait!” I disentangle myself from Stone’s arms and run up to wrap my arms around my friend.
“Thank you for helping us today, Steven. You always know how to make me happy,” I say. His smile is wistful.
“Sure. Anytime, M.” Steven glances up at Stone as he unwraps my arms from his waist. He gives Stone a thumbs up and leaves with an odd expression on his face. Stone watches Steven walk out. He’s thoughtful as he closes the front door and turns to me. Thoughtful turns into something more sinister the second I unhook my overalls and let them fall to the floor.
We have plenty of time to have sex in every room in this monstrous house and I don’t think anything has ever been so ground breaking.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Morganna
STE
VEN ACTUALLY OWNS chaps. My laughter echoes throughout the barn when he paces up to me, his thumbs tucked into his belt, his cowboy boots kicking up hay. “You didn’t think I was lying about the ass-less chaps did you?” he says, leaning over to kiss my cheek.
I open Magic’s stall and click my tongue. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Guess you’re not upset about last night still, then?” He didn’t come back to my room last night. I wasn’t waiting, but assumed he would.
“You wanted me to sneak in for some midnight delight, huh? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Steven eyes me up and down with a glimmer in his eye. I’m dressed far more casual than I typically am. More jeans and less makeup. It’s refreshing to not have to put on a show.
Grabbing a harness belt, I start attaching the saddle on Magic. She snuffs out a loud breath and he jumps back. “I never said anything about delight. You left abruptly,” I explain, as Steven takes a few measured steps toward the horse’s head. He extends a hand, much like a child would, and lets the horse sniff him. Magic raises her lip and shows her teeth in a cute snarl.
“What the fuck, Morg. She almost bit me! How am I supposed to partner with a horse who wants to eat me?” Steven exclaims, eyes wide.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I reiterate. My directness grabs his attention.
Warily, he turns his head toward me, but I know he’s keeping Magic in his line of peripheral sight. This horse wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m not going to tell him that. Yet.
Steven turns his hat around to face backward, a nervous habit. “Expectation management, M. I practice it at work, I’ll practice it here...with you. I’m guilty of expecting too much. Not just from you, but from everyone around me. I want you to want me on certain terms. It’s my right.”
My face heats as I let his words sink in. I pull on Magic’s strap a little harder than I mean to and she whinnies, her front feet rising up and down in protest.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 45
