by J. M. Madden
Izzy scowled. "Really? You're trying to be my mother now? I've been a nurse for years. I think I know how to take precautions against pregnancy."
Ginny leaned forward for a hug, her long dark hair trailing over her shoulder. "I know. I just worry about you. So, does he want to meet up with you again?"
Against her volition, Izzy's gaze swung toward Drake, as if drawn. He'd rejoined a group of his buddies, had a beer in his hand and seemed to be into whatever the conversation was, but he looked up as if he knew he'd been targeted. They shared a moment of understanding, and heat, then he lifted his beer in salute. "I don't now. Maybe eventually."
She guided the conversation in another direction and hoped that her own need for more from him didn't show through too strongly.
Drake tried to keep track of the conversation, he really did, but his attention was centered on Izzy. Even with his back turned he could feel her across the open space. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he'd suddenly developed ESP or some shit.
"She's hot, in a weird, Bohemian kind of way," Jiggy told him, bumping his shoulder.
Drake scowled. "Why is she weird? Because of her hair?"
Jiggy seemed taken aback at the snapped questions, and couldn't find words to respond. "Uh, yeah, I guess."
Drake took a swig of his beer and turned away, suddenly very conscious of how shallow his teammates were being. They considered this entire reception a meat market set out for their consumption. Maybe he was just beyond frustrated with them.
Gabe Carter's dark head caught his attention. He was leaning down and listening to Julie, his fiancée, as they stood waiting at the bar. Before he could think otherwise he crossed the room to them.
Gabe saw him first and held out a hand for a clasp and shoulder bump. "Zero. How the hell are you?"
It had been a long time since he'd seen Carter, and he was amazed at the change in the man. Not just the filling out he'd done, but the ease in the lines around his eyes. He looked relaxed and happy. Drake's eyes flicked to the strawberry-blond standing with him. She had a hand on Carter's arm and she looked right at home there.
"Drake, you remember Julie, right?"
He nodded, though he didn't really. She looked familiar but he didn't remember talking to her or anything. Her kind eyes smiled at him.
"Nice to see you again, Julie. Can I talk to Carter a minute?"
“Sure. I need to go see Lacey anyway.”
With a final kiss, his buddy excused himself and they moved toward the steps at the back of the courtyard. There was a secondary level of landscaping beyond the courtyard, leading down to a developed pond. Without actually talking about it, they moved out toward the water. Drake wanted something, but he wasn't sure exactly what. To reconnect? To see that there was life after the teams? To be reassured if he did take the leap?
"You look good, Carter,” he said finally. “Is it because of the company you're keeping or the company you're not keeping?"
Gabe tipped his head back and laughed. "Both probably. Don't have nearly as many people shooting at me, so that eases a man's mind."
"Mmm…" Drake hummed in agreement.
It had been a long time since Drake had felt comfortable in his environment. His eyes were always moving and his hand had a knife or gun in it probably way more than was socially acceptable. Even now on this expanse of grass behind the lodge, with a hundred other equally on-point military men keeping watch, he still felt on edge. Like he was being watched.
"Whatever you're doing, it seems to be agreeing with you."
The lines around Carter's eyes deepened making him look more mature and Drake remembered that he was actually older than Carter by a few years. But he still held the same position in the team he'd had for more than a decade.
"What are you doing now?" Drake asked him curiously.
Carter shoved his hands into his pant pockets, looking out over the water. "I'm working graveyard shift at Lost and Found. We do domestic investigations, personal security, forensic accounting, surveillance, undercover operations. Companies come to us when they're having abnormal workplace thefts. Background checks. You name it, we do it."
Drake looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "That's a long list."
Gabe nodded. "Yes, but the company has morphed as it's grown, from what I understand. When they opened years ago, they started with background checks and court records searches. Pretty mundane stuff. You have to change with the times, you know?"
That struck Drake as ironic and he chuckled, looking out over the pond. "I guess."
Gabe placed a hand on his shoulder and Drake looked at him for a long second. The other man seemed to understand what he wanted. "You're trying to figure out what comes next?"
Drake blinked. Yeah, maybe that was what he was looking for. Did he dare open up to his old friend? What the hell. "I see you guys laughing with your women, and I wonder what that's like, you know? I mean, for years I was completely for the teams, you know that. But I'm starting to wonder what the point is. I've had a gun in my hand my entire adult life, and I'm tired." He gave Gabe a lopsided smile. "At thirty-seven, I'm the old man of my crew. Have been for a few years. Seeing everyone here tonight has just brought it into very sharp focus."
Gabe chuckled and nodded. "I totally get you. Well, if you ever want to make a change, give me a call. Duncan usually only takes vets that have retired from injuries, but you've worked under the plow long enough he might make an exception for you."
Drake winced and grinned, clutching his chest. "You really know how to make an old fucker feel older. Thanks, buddy."
Gabe nodded at the crowd on the patio. "Patterson is starting up his Brotherhood Protectors group, too. This area is a hotbed for rich, valuable talent, and apparently there's plenty of work keeping them out of trouble. You have more than one option if you do decide to get out."
Drake didn't know what he wanted, but tonight especially, he was feeling out of sorts. Not in total sync with his team. "Thanks, Gabe. I know you'll always give it to me straight."
They talked of inconsequential things as they wandered back to the party and once again Izzy captured his attention. On the far end of the patio, she sat with her girlfriend Ginny and another woman he hadn't been introduced to. They were laughing, but something about her expression seemed pensive. When she looked up straight at him, as if she'd felt his gaze, he had to wonder if something stronger than the both of them was urging them together.
With a tip of his head, he acknowledged her. She lifted a wine glass in response, then seemed to shiver. For some reason that sent a surge of heat through his body. He could imagine making her shiver like that, almost like an aftershock from an orgasm.
Though he wanted to cross the stone to her and steal her away again, he forced himself to stay strong. They'd had an interesting interlude, but he didn't think they could do any more than that. It seemed almost deceitful to try to prolong their time, because it couldn't go anywhere.
Could it?
With a final, lingering glance he forced himself to turn away.
Where had he left that bottle of Woodford?
Izzy worried at her fingernails, wondering what the hell she was plotting.
"You have that look in your eyes like you're about to get into trouble. Even if it's for a good cause."
Izzy grinned at Ginny. "You know me so well. I want to go see him again, but I don't know what to do. I mean, we're on very different paths. He's probably leaving tomorrow to go save the world, and I'm going back to work."
"Yet the universe saw fit to unite you here, at a wedding of all places," Ginny said softly. "It looks to me like you've already connected, but if you don't pursue it then nothing will happen. When does he leave?"
She turned her head to look at him again. Leaning back in a chair, his long legs were stretched out on front of him and crossed at the ankles. That seemed to be a favorite pose. A long-neck beer balanced on his belly, held negligently in one hand, the other in his pocket. A
gaggle of good-looking young men were grouped around him, talking, joking, but they paid attention to Drake. Not verbally, but they looked to him as if for affirmation. Several times they asked him questions, and he responded with a look, or a raised eyebrow. From the outside looking in, he appeared to be the leader of the group, the wiser, older male the younger bucks looked up to.
"I'm not sure exactly," she murmured.
Izzy winced physically at the thought of never seeing him again. Drake was out of her comfort level, way out, but in many ways he suited her very well. Sexually, he had no equal. For curiosity's sake, she glanced at the gathering around her. There were men here she'd seen in movies before, and playboys, other SEALs. There was a very diverse group of testosterone driven hunks gathered here, but she only had eyes for one.
Her blood heated and her heart raced at the thought of marching over there and dragging him back up to the room. Or home with her to Colorado Springs. That was a military community. Maybe he could find something to do there.
No, she would never ask him to change like that.
The band at the far corner of the patio paused and the wedding coordinator took the mic.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, how about a round of applause for the bride and groom as they take their first dance together."
Not only was there applause, there were catcalls and wolf-whistles as well when Dylan and Kiko took the floor. The color in Kiko's cheeks deepened as Dylan spun her into a slow dance, knocking some of her dark hair askew, but Kiko didn't even notice. The two of them held each other like they couldn't do anything else. It was obvious from the way that they gazed at each other that they were deeply in love.
Izzy watched the entire dance, reaffirming that this was the kind of love that she wanted in her life. Yes, it was sappy and overly sweet, but it was true, and she hoped that the two of them lived a long and healthy life together, in spite of his job.
The song ended and there was a fresh wave of applause, then more couples drifted onto the dance floor and the music picked up. She felt him behind her before she heard him.
"Would you dance with me?"
Izzy blinked up into Drake's icy gray eyes, then held out her hand. No hesitation. Where her self-preservation had gone she had no idea.
He tugged her into the dance area and pulled her into his arms. She could immediately tell he wasn't a dancer, but his natural athleticism would serve him now as he adapted and started to move his feet and rock his shoulders.
"You don't seem like the dancing type to me," she murmured, hand grazing his neck before settling to his shoulder.
"I'm not," he said quietly, "But I wasn't going to let anyone else dance with you."
She pulled back enough to raise a brow at him. "Really? I thought we were trying to cool things off?"
"I didn't say that," he rumbled. "You did."
Izzy sighed. Yes she had. "I like you, Drake. A lot. But let me tell you something. If you break my heart, I'm going to have to string you up by your balls."
She said it in jest in the hopes that they could laugh about it, but instead he stopped moving and looked down at her.
"I've never been in this position before, and I have no desire to break your heart. I don't know what we're doing exactly, or where it's going, but I don't want either one of us hurt. It's gotten more complicated than I ever expected."
With a slight nod, she leaned into his arms again and started moving.
For several minutes they didn't say anything more, just moved to the music. Several songs played, but they danced the same way to all of them, slow swaying and shuffling. She hoped his men didn't make fun of him for this. A couple of times she thought she caught him inhaling her, but she couldn’t tell for sure.
"So, I don't feel like I know very much about you. Where are you out of?" she asked finally. "I know SEALs are usually California or Virginia, right?"
He inclined his head. "Yes. I'm from the Virginia group. I'm a special boat operator attached to the USS Carl Vinson."
"Where are you from originally?"
"Indiana. Grew up on a farm with my two brothers and my dad. But didn't stay there. I wanted to see the world."
She smiled up at him. "You kind of went all in, huh? Navy SEALs are no joke."
He grinned slightly. "I did."
"And did your family support you?"
He blinked and looked out over the crowd surging around them. "Not really. My mother died when I was young so my dad assumed I would always be there on the farm, and it just wasn't for me."
"Yeah, I get that," she told him thoughtfully. "My dad left us when I was ten. He was a smoke jumper for the national park service, and though he seemed to love my mother, he couldn’t conform to normal life for her. She wanted a husband willing to work a nine to five like she did at the hair salon. He couldn’t do it. So he left.” She shrugged. “Mom eventually remarried a really nice guy, a barber, and they opened a hair salon together. Years later, my parents didn't understand why I wanted to leave Pennsylvania. They wanted me to take over the salon. But they kind of rolled with it better than your dad did, it sounds like. They're used to my eccentric personality. I tried about fifteen different jobs before I finally decided I wanted to help people. Once I decided on nursing and physical therapy everything kind of fell into place."
He blinked down at her. "Fifteen jobs? Are you serious?"
She laughed and nodded. "Yup. I was a hair stylist for a while in PA at the salon, worked at an arboretum in Ohio, parked cars for a restaurant in New York. Helped on a ranch in Texas for a while, drove taxi in Louisiana. It was when I got a job at a nursing home in Florida that I felt like I was finding my direction. I went to school for a while and hooked up with a guy whose family was in Colorado. I followed him home one day and fell in love with the state. Knew it was where I wanted to stay so I headed back to school and the rest is history. I work at Ft. Carson now as a nurse in the rehab facility."
"Army, huh?" he shook his head sadly. "I thought better of you than that Izzy."
She laughed, knowing he was just messing with her. Joking between the branches was an everyday thing where she came from.
"Those Army guys are pretty awesome, I'll have you know," she murmured up into his ear.
Again, he shook his head as if he couldn't believe her words. "You just haven't been around enough SEALs."
Their conversation wandered from subject to subject as they learned about each other, and there were no deal breakers as far as she was concerned. He leaned more toward Star Wars than Star Trek, and she informed him it was probably a generational thing. He pinched her on the ass for that dig.
Drake told her she was nuts to like the Detroit Redwings over the Pittsburgh Penguins and wondered how she could call herself a Pennsylvanian. They laughed and joked about light-hearted things, but under the surface of the words was the simmering awareness that they were finding common ground and deciding whether or not to fight for their so-early relationship.
Several times other men tried to tap him off the dance floor, but with an ice-cold stare they generally turned tail and disappeared. Izzy appreciated that in spite of his discomfort on the dance floor, he was trying to give them time to connect. This night wasn't going to last forever. Even now the sun had already set over the mountains to the West. Lights were flickering on in the fading light.
When the wedding coordinator called for everyone's attention again, she wanted to curse the woman.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll come this way Mr. and Mrs. Cutler are going to cut the cake."
Though Kiko was her friend, she could care less about the flipping cake. When she looked up at Drake he seemed to be of the same mind. "Let's get out of here."
Izzy let him tug her away from the crowd and down the steps to an outdoor kitchen area on the side of the pond. There were padded chairs grouped around a brick fire ring, and it was perfect. Being curious, Drake headed to the grill and started opening the cupboards around it. In one of the cupboards he found
a small stocked fridge with bottles of water. He handed one to Izzy as she curled up into a chair, her legs tucked beside her.
"As much as I like Dylan," Drake told her, dropping down into the seat beside her. "This reception is killing me."
She giggled and nodded her head. "Me too. I didn't realize this was going to be such a production. I want to go change into my street clothes. These shoes pinch like a bitch."
Drake settled into the cushion beside her and brought her feet into his lap. When he rested the cold water bottle against her toes she gasped, then groaned when it started to ease some of the burning. "How is your cut?"
He glanced at her, then made a face. "I completely forgot about it. It's fine, believe me. I've had worse."
She was sure he had, but not received during the protection of her. "Maybe I should check it again."
A gleam warmed his eyes. "Maybe you should."
For a long time they just sat on that little couch, listening to the party above them. Drake would rotate the water bottle across her feet before she finally turned to lean her back against him. That seemed to suit them both better, and they settled in to just chill.
They talked occasionally, but for the most part they were quiet. Drake wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she brushed her fingers back and forth over it, ruffling the hair then smoothing it. Drake sighed and stretched his legs out even further.
Izzy felt a bone-deep contentment she'd never felt with another man.
"You ever been married, Drake?"
"Nah. Who would put up with my crazy schedule, gone weeks or months at a time in-country, no way to get a hold of me if something happened."
"Yeah, that's understandable."
The silence drifted in again.
"What about you?" he asked gruffly.
Izzy grinned into the night. "Well, I've had boyfriends before, but no one to put up with my craziness long-term. I think the longest guy lasted about a year, and that was only because he was too lazy to pack up and get out of my apartment."
