Remember When (Teach Me Book 3)

by RC Boldt

  “Oh. Well, thanks for … going out of your way.”

  He shrugged, those broad, muscular shoulders stretching the fabric of his graphic T-shirt which was tucked into a pair of khaki shorts, accentuating his trim waste. “I hardly consider a few miles down the road out of my way.”

  As she locked her door and they descended the stairs of her one-story home, she couldn’t help but ponder how drastically things had changed between them as of late. Yes, the hurt was still present, shoved down deep, but this truce they had made actually felt … nice.

  When he opened the passenger door for her, her eyes met his in an unvoiced question. Giving her a slow smile, he shook his head. “Now, Donnelly, you know I was raised right. Always hold the door open for the lady.”

  Giving a small smile of thanks, she slid onto the seat of his vehicle before Miller closed the door for her. Tate fastened her seatbelt and waited for him. After he put on his own seatbelt, he backed out of her driveway and onto South Fletcher Avenue, traveling to the auto shop.

  “You got new tires?” he asked.

  “Yes. It was time.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s always painful to pay for them. But necessary.”

  Her phone rang in her small purse and she unzipped it to see that she was getting a call from Raine.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “Hey, honey,” Raine said. “I wanted to give you a heads up that Laney just told me she invited Pearce tonight.”

  “O-kay,” she answered slowly. “Invited as in ‘join us all’ or invited as in ‘I’m matchmaking’?”

  There was a beat of silence. “Um, probably a little of both?”

  Tate rolled her eyes on a sigh. “Right. Okay. You’ve officially warned me.”

  “Sorry, sweetie.” Raine paused. “Are you with Miller right now?”

  She slid a glance toward him out of the corner of her eye. “Yes.”

  “He’s taking you to get your car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aw, that’s really sweet of him.”

  Tate didn’t respond.

  Raine lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s probably got the same superhuman SEAL hearing that Mac does. Does he look hot tonight?”

  That question gave Tate pause. Because, yeah, he probably did have superhuman hearing, but since Raine was whispering softly, surely he wouldn’t be able to hear …

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Like good enough to— Ow!” Tate heard a smack—probably Mac playfully slapping Raine on the ass.

  His voice suddenly filled the background. “Woman. You’d better not be lusting over pretty boy Vaughn.”

  “How could I when I have you?” she heard her friend say, ardent affection apparent in her voice.

  Tate laughed. “I’m going to let you two go. I’ll see you in a few.” They hung up just as Miller was pulling the Jeep into the parking lot of the auto shop.

  Turning to him, she said, “Thanks again for driving me over. I appreciate it.” Exiting vehicle, she was about to close the door when she heard him call her name.

  Meeting his amused gaze, a nervous feeling arose in the pit of her stomach. “Yes?”

  Those full lips curved up into a smile. “Glad to know you think I look hot tonight.”

  Shit. Schooling her features, she gave him her best squinty-eyed glare, closing the passenger door on his laugh. Tate whirled around, hurrying up to the entrance of the auto shop.

  Damn Navy SEALs and their superhuman hearing.

  * * *

  “Come on now, y’all,” Kane complained to Miller and Doc. “You two need to get up there and show everyone what impressive pipes you’ve got.”

  “And by pipes, I really hope you mean voices,” Lawson commented while they sat around the table, discussing which karaoke songs they were planning on singing.

  Kane, aquamarine eyes dancing, threw his head back in a laugh. “Lawson, I do reckon you’ve got the dirtiest mind this side of the Mason Dixon line.”

  Lawson preened, batting his baby blues. “Why, that’s the sweetest compliment I’ve ever received.”

  Miller wasn’t sure what brought up the long-buried memory, his mind flashing back to when he and Tate had sung along to some Spice Girls song playing on the radio, having a blast and being goofy. They had been so happy, so in love back then.

  His eyes found Tate where she was sitting at the opposite end of the table beside Laney and Raine, talking and pointing to the song book in front of them. She must have felt the weight of his gaze, because she looked up and caught his eye. And hell if he could tear his eyes away from hers. She was stunning in that long dress, the blue bringing out her eyes, and her hair seemed so soft and inviting that his fingers itched to slide into it, pull her close—

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Lawson, pointed a finger at him with raised his eyebrows. “What’s with that hot and steamy look just now?”

  Kane cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest to lean back in his chair, smirk on his face. “I saw that, too.”

  “What did you see?” Mac had just taken a seat at the table.

  “A decidedly hot and steamy look Miller had while glancing over at a certain someone,” answered Doc. He swiped at his close-cropped hair. “Feel like I might’ve gotten a little singed just from being a bystander.”

  “Oh?” Mac smiled, that infamous dimple prominent, eyes crinkled at the edges in humor.

  “Yep. It was one that screamed, ‘If there weren’t anyone else around, I’d probably take you right here on this table’.” Doc merely grinned at the dirty look Miller flashed him.

  Kane pressed his palms flat to the table’s surface, a serious expression on his face. “I do reckon it’s sturdy enough.” Turning to Doc, he asked, “What do you think?”

  Doc gave the table a firm pat. “Yep. It’ll do.”

  Kane seemed deflated. “Aw, hell. Slight issue with it being in public, though.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “Damn it.”

  Doc nodded gravely. “That does put a damper on things.”

  “You two are hilarious,” Miller remarked drily.

  Kane and Doc grinned and said in unison, “We know.”

  His attention was drawn away as Tate stood, holding more song request slips to bring up to Dean, the karaoke DJ. When she turned, Miller couldn’t help but notice the material of her dress slide over her taut ass as she approached the stage.

  A loud clearing of a throat had him tearing his eyes away. He glanced over to see Kane with a smirk on his face. “Better watch out. Don’t want to let Ted catch you with all that lust in your pretty blues.”

  “Ted? Who’s Ted?” Lawson asked, confusion lining his features.

  Fuuuuuck. Foster and his big fucking mouth with the whole tattoo shit. No such thing as a secret amongst SEALs, that much was certain. And apparently amongst Green Berets, either, since Kane was a former Green Beret himself and had jumped on the ‘Let’s harass Vaughn about Ted’ bandwagon.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Miller’s eyes fell closed on a silent groan. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you jackasses?”

  Kane threw an arm over his shoulder. “Because you love us, darlin’.”

  Doc leaned in closer, lying his head on Miller’s shoulder. “I mean, really. How could you not love us?”

  Lawson looked on with a smirk. “I’m feeling pretty left out of this love fest, here, guys.”

  Kane patted his hard, muscular thighs in invitation. “Now, Laws, you should know there’s always room for you on this lap of love.”

  Lawson’s palm flew to cover his chest, dramatically. “Thank heavens.”

  Foster appeared at their table, sliding onto a chair. “What are you talking about that has Laws looking all swoon-worthy?”

  “Aw, just letting curly here know that he’s welcome to my lap,” Kane answered before tossing a glance over to where Tate was on her way back to their table. Smiling cheekily, he added, “And that only a particular so
meone else was welcome to Vaughn’s lap.”

  Tate slowed as she approached the table, eyes turning wary, noticing the attention on her. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “All I caught was something about someone’s lap and everyone staring at me. That doesn’t bode well.”

  “Or maybe it does.” Lawson wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Whatever.” Tate rolled her eyes and ruffled the short blonde curls on Lawson’s head before turning away to return to her seat.

  “Hey, hey,” he backed away from her, eyes darting to Miller, “I don’t have a death wish, Ted.”

  Head cocked to the right, her hands flew to her hips. “What the hell is with calling me Ted all of a sudden?” Her eyes moved to gauge the others’ expressions at the table.

  Zach held up one hand in surrender, the other holding his cell phone. “Don’t look at me. I was too busy reading a naughty text from my girlfriend.”

  “Hey!” Foster protested, making a face. “Seriously, man. My ears bleed from that shit.” He paused before shooting Zach a weird look. “Plus, you’re both at the same table.”

  Zach focused a pointed look at Foster. “Would you like me to revisit the time someone got choked up at the cue cards scene in the movie Love Actually?”

  Foster flipped him the bird.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Zach replied with a smirk.

  “Now, we have the lovely Tate performing liiiiive from Shenanigans,” Dean, the karaoke DJ announced with flourish as Tate took the stage, microphone in her grasp.

  Miller’s eyes were trained on her, watching as she prepared to sing. Just as the first few notes of the song played, he recognized it as the Fleetwood Mac cover of “Landslide” by Dixie Chicks.

  He found himself entranced by Tate, her voice captivating as she sang, and noted many others had turned their attention to her as well. Attention from a lot of men, in particular, and he felt his spine stiffen before shaking it off. Because, really, what did he care?

  You still care, an inner voice taunted. You’ve never stopped caring.

  As Tate finished the song, there was loud applause and he saw a faint blush spread across her cheeks. God, she was so damn beautiful it was almost painful to gaze upon her.

  She’s also the same woman who broke your heart. Don’t let down your guard.

  But, at times like this, watching her blonde hair appearing unbelievably silky soft in the lighting, lips so full and glossy, it was really hard to remember.

  Really fucking hard.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “HEY, PJ! YOU SINGING TONIGHT?” Mac posed the question, drawing Tate and Pearce from their conversation which was … good. He was a super cute guy and smart, sweet, and funny. But she found herself comparing him to—

  Damn it. She needed to stop. Miller was part of her past and she needed to leave him there. That was all there was to it. Pearce was a great guy and who knew what might happen? Maybe they would end up dating. Or, eventually, more.

  Tate caught her eyes, just in the nick of time, from darting over to where Miller sat with the other guys at their table. Damn, traitorous eyes. Why did they keep veering off in his direction? Okay, so maybe the graphic T-shirt he was wearing really emphasized his broad chest, muscular arms, and firm pectoral muscles. And his dark hair was tousled like he had run his fingers through it. Almost inviting her to—

  Wait a minute. Did Mac just call Pearce ‘PJ’? What was that all about? Tate’s head tipped to the side in question, darting a glance between Pearce and Mac.

  Pearce chuckled. “Nope. I’m leaving the singing entirely up to you.”

  Mac leaned in, strong forearms resting on the table, directing a slight grin Pearce’s way. “Surely, someone who has done static line drops isn’t afraid of a little karaoke?”

  “What the hellllll …” Kane drawled, appearing to take inventory of Pearce before leaning toward the table, imitating Mac’s pose. “No way. A combat pararescue jumper … for real?”

  Pearce nodded. “That Others May Live,” he spoke the well-known motto.

  Kane reached over to fist bump Pearce. “Dude. I’ve got mad respect for y’all. Especially after PJs helped my cousin and his brothers out in Mogadishu.”

  “Yeah, that was some crazy shit. I had only begun my training at that point.”

  Miller, who had been watching the conversation as a quiet bystander, finally spoke. Tate noted his look of begrudging respect for her new coworker.

  “Dude, I heard some of your guys were involved in what went down around Marja a few months back.”

  Pearce shook his head, letting out a sigh. “Yeah. Nothing good ever goes on in the Helmand Province.”

  Mac blew out a long breath. “I can attest to that.”

  Miller leaned forward, gaze focused on Pearce. “What made you get out?”

  Tate turned to watch Pearce, curious to know his answer. If she had learned anything from being around this bunch of tough, former military guys, it was that the brotherhood found while serving their country was one of the strongest … and, subsequently, also one of the toughest to part with after getting out.

  Pearce’s lips pressed thin for a moment, appearing to choose his words carefully. “The last mission we were involved in, al Quaeda insurgents shot an RPG at our helo and a huge chunk of metal took out my right leg just below the knee.”

  “No fucking way, dude,” Doc remarked with an alarmed expression. “You lost it?”

  Pearce nodded and Tate’s lips parted in surprise. He had lost part of his leg?

  Glancing her way, he flashed her a sympathetic look. “Sorry. Not really great conversation.” With a deprecating laugh, he added, “Or a way to put it out there that I have a titanium leg, right?”

  “Titanium? Really? Can I see?” Kane quickly stood to approach Pearce.

  Raine and Laney rejoined them upon finishing their performance of Run DMC’s “Bust A Move” while Lawson and Zach took their places on stage. “What has you looking all excited and rushing over to Pearce?” Laney asked, curiously.

  “Dude’s got a titanium leg. I would never have even guessed …” Kane answered, a tinge of awe in his tone.

  Mac leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “Kane’s getting hard over a titanium leg. Who would’ve guessed that kind of thing did it for him?” Returning his attention to Pearce, he continued. “But, seriously, man. One would never know you have a prosthesis by your gait. You rock that thing. And well, I might add.”

  Pearce’s lips tilted up slightly at the corners. “Trust me. It’s taken a lot of work to get to this point.” He lifted up his right pant leg for Kane who was squatted down, checking out the prosthesis.

  Raine came over to them. Glancing down at Pearce’s leg before meeting his eyes, her gaze was curious. “You never said a word about being in the military before.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t really have a reason to discuss it at work.”

  Their friend reached down and put her arms around him in a hug and Tate barely held back a laugh at the expression of surprise on Pearce’s face. He awkwardly put his arms around Raine, giving two pats to her back.

  Drawing back from their embrace, Raine stated, “Thank you for your sacrifice, Pearce.”

  Her friend’s softly spoken words, green eyes conveying sincere gratitude, appeared to hit Pearce’s core. His throat worked before he nodded.

  “Get over here and give your husband some of that hug action before he gets all jealous,” Doc called out.

  * * *

  Raine scoffed. “Jealous? Mac?” Suddenly, her head cocked to the side as if recalling something. “Wait a minute. Except for that one dinner night when I first met—” She was cut off when Mac reached over to grasp her wrist, tugging her onto his lap.

  “And that’s where I change the subject,” he said before he pressed a kiss to her lips.

  Miller shook his head at the two. They were nearly nauseating to witness, so much in love. However, they both had been through their own differ
ent versions of hell and deserved to be happy so he couldn’t begrudge them.

  Doc rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Sweet Jesus. You two are worse than rabbits.”

  Miller looked over at where Kane was still stooped down, checking out Pearce’s leg. “Hey, Windham. You done molesting that man’s leg or what?”

  “Yeah, dude. I’m pretty sure Tate wants her date’s attention back.”

  Miller’s head whipped around to Doc who merely gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. It was the slightest smirk that gave his friend away, though. Doc knew exactly what he was doing, what buttons he was pushing. Miller felt his jaw clench before turning away.

  “Yeah, sorry, man.” Kane stood and reached out a hand for Pearce to shake. “Didn’t mean to be all obsessed with your leg. Just made me think of a buddy of mine who dealt with real bad PTSD after losing his. He’d been pretty doubtful about being unnoticed with his prosthesis and it just made me think …”

  “No worries,” Pearce answered. “I’d be glad to talk with him if you think it’d help.”

  Kane’s usual lively demeanor faltered as his eyes took on a faraway look. “Appreciate that, man. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late.”

  Miller’s eyes fell closed. Running a hand over his face, he felt his jaw clench. Fuck. He knew exactly who Kane had been referring to and he hadn’t known. His own damn tally of guys who’d chosen to end their lives because of PTSD and the lingering horrors of what they’d faced in combat had grown exponentially.

  This was one of the reasons Miller felt so grateful to Foster for hiring mainly former servicemen—aside from Noelle, of course—because they needed to feel that bond, to be surrounded by those who understood how difficult it was to suddenly transition to the civilian world. Those who understood the horrors they had faced, had witnessed. Visions of events which would linger in the recesses of their minds forever.

  An arm slung over his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. He turned to find Lawson sprawled in the seat beside him, slightly out of breath.

  With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Dance and sing your little ass off up there, did you?”