She chuckled…not giggled, but chuckled. He knew then and there she wasn’t a SEAL bunny—just an honest to goodness woman, who was interested in the guy who had stopped and changed her tire. She eyed Eric with curiosity. “So what about you? What’s your call sign? And yes, I know they are call signs and not nicknames. My cousin is in the Navy and serving on a sub somewhere in the Pacific, and my dad’s retired from the Air Force.”
Eric rolled his eyes. He was one of the guys who got stuck with a call sign he wasn’t thrilled with. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to pick it, or have any say in the matter, and if you hated what you ended up with, it was all the more reason for everyone to use it. It was best if you didn’t bitch about it, either, because you might end up with one even worse than that. “Since Elmer was my best friend since day one of BT, I ended up being tagged ‘Wabbit’, which I’ll never forgive him for.”
Laughing, Curt smacked his buddy on the back. “Sure you will, you wascally wabbit!”
“Hey, Dana.”
The trio looked up to see two other women, about Dana’s approximate age of twenty-four, had stopped beside the table. Not bad, Curt thought to himself and hoped they would be joining them. The two dark-haired beauties erased the cute blonde at the bar from his mind. Picking which one to hit on was going to be difficult…but enjoyable.
Both Curt and he stood as Dana introduced them to her friends. “Eric and Curt, this is Vanessa and Rebekah. I asked them to meet us if that’s okay?”
Her gaze was on Eric as she spoke. She was obviously as hooked on him as he was on her, but she’d still been a smart girl, bringing her friends along, in case the object of her affection turned into a creep—which Curt knew he wouldn’t. Eric may have had his share of women dropping at his feet to suck his dick or whatever, but Curt had never heard the man disrespect a woman in the entire time he’d known him. After seven years, he knew the guy well.
While Curt pulled out the chair next to him for one of the women to sit on, Eric snatched another chair from a table behind him. For the next few hours, they all had a great time…and Eric and Dana began to fall in love.
* * *
Eighteen Months Later
“You sure about this, man?” Curt asked Eric as the two of them checked their reflections in the floor length mirror in the sacristy of the church. “You still have a few minutes to make a run for it.”
Eric brushed a piece of lint from his dress whites. “No freaking way, dude. She’s the one. She’s hot, sweet, rocks my world, and doesn’t have a problem being a Navy SEAL’s wife. My family loves her and she gets along great with them. And to top it all off, I’m madly in love with her. What more could I ask for?”
Shrugging his shoulder, Curt smirked. “I don’t know….maybe a twin?”
“Asshole. Oops, sorry, Father.”
Neither one of them had heard the older priest come back in. Shaking his head, Father O’Malley chuckled. “No worries. It’s something you get used to as a Navy Chaplin. The bride’s father just gave me the thumbs up, so I guess it’s a go. Ready?”
Taking one last look in the mirror to make sure his uniform was perfect, Eric squared his shoulders and headed for the door to the altar. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do it. Hoo-yah!”
Curt followed and took his spot next to his best friend, checking his pocket once again for the two rings he’d been placed in charge of. Two more of their Navy buddies had joined them in the bridal party along with one of Eric’s cousins, who had donned a grey suit for the occasion. Most of the SEAL team they’d been serving with over the past two years was in attendance, along with fifty of Dana and Curt’s friends and family. It wasn’t a huge affair, but that’s how the couple had wanted it.
The organ music began to play and the bridesmaids made their entrances at the back of the chapel. An adorable six-year-old flower girl skipped up the aisle making everyone smile and laugh. Then the music changed to the bridal march and the crowd stood to watch the bride float down the aisle on her father’s arm. She was stunning—and that was an understatement. Curt bumped shoulders with Eric, who couldn’t take his eyes off Dana, and whispered, “You were right, man. She’s the one.”
“Told you.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as Dana’s father, who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer two months earlier, handed her off to her fiancé and good-naturedly saluted him. Eric returned the gesture to the retired Air Force captain, then escorted his bride the last few steps to the altar where the chaplain blessed the couple. After they were pronounced man and wife, the reception went until almost dawn at a nearby hotel. They’d started off in the ballroom, but when their time there ran out, the party was moved to the bar/lounge and the drinks flowed. Curt lost count of the number of whiskey shots the team had thrown back in toasts to the couple. All in all, it had been an awesome night.
Chapter 3
Present
“Something like this?” Curt finished sketching the paint job design, and then rotated the pad a hundred and eighty degrees on the counter, so his potential new customer could see it. “I can make any changes you want.”
“No, man, this is fucking awesome! It’s exactly what I was looking for. You’re a fucking genius.”
He snorted at the twenty-something-year-old guy, who had been referred by a friend whose motorcycle Curt had detailed a few months ago. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Flipping the pad back around, he made a few small corrections, then signed the bottom of the page and wrote ‘HALO Customs’ underneath it. The motorcycle repair and detail shop was the business his brother and he had opened up in Daytona after he’d retired from SEAL Team Four three years ago. Chris was seven years younger than him and had retired from the Army, after being a mechanic for them for eight years. He then apprenticed with a guy who did custom bike jobs, so when Curt got out, they could start the business they’d talked about for years. Chris did all the engine work and body designs, while Curt did all the custom detailing, using the creative skills he’d inherited from their mother, an art teacher. The business had grown over the years, mostly by word-of-mouth, to the point they had eight other guys working for them now. It had been a great relief to him since he didn’t have to worry about taking time off here and there to head up to Iowa for long weekends.
“I’m booked solid for the next five weeks.” He slid over the large day-planner with his schedule in it. Between their receptionist, Monica, and him, they kept it up-to-date. “The soonest I can get you in is the third week of May. Is that okay with you?”
“That’d be awesome, dude—as long as it’s finished before the start of the summer. I’ve been dying to get this done ever since I saw what you did on my buddy’s bike.”
Grabbing an invoice pad, Curt wrote down the details of the job and what it would cost. “Here’s the estimate. It’s subject to any changes you make to the design or add-ons.”
The guy looked it over and didn’t even flinch at the bottom line. Not that Curt expected him to, with what the motorcycle had cost in the first place. The Seventy-Two Harley, with all the bells and whistles, had to have set him back, at least $25,000 when he bought it a few months ago, and that was including the custom paint job he was now replacing.
Sitting on the side shelf of his draft table, his cell phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. Devon Sawyer. He picked up the device and hit the button to connect the call. “Hey, Devil Dog. Can you hang on a sec?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” Curt pulled the phone away from his mouth and turned to his customer. “The terms are on the bottom there. One-third of the invoice must be paid when you drop the bike off, and the rest is due on completion of the job. Any questions?”
The guy shook his head. “Nope. Got it.”
“Cool. I’ll call you a few days in advance to make sure we’re still all set.”
“Awesome.” He stepped toward the door then paused. “Hey, can I take a pic of the sketch to show my buddies?”<
br />
Anxious to take the phone call, but not wanting to be rude to a customer, Curt turned the pad around on the counter again. “Sure, just make sure my signature and business name are included.”
“No prob. Thanks.”
After taking a few quick photos, the guy left with a huge smile on his face. Curt brought the phone to his ear again. “Sorry about that, Dev. What’s shaking in the security biz?”
“Not much. Listen, I just got back from a second trip to Belize and Kristen’s having a really tough time this week with the morning sickness. I can’t wait until it passes because she’s been miserable. Little JD is being hell on his momma—”
“It’s a boy? You found out?” He’d known that the parents-to-be wanted to name the baby John, if it was a boy, after Devon’s younger brother, who’d passed away as a teenager. The kid’s middle name would be his father’s name, so John Devon was already being called by his initials.
“Yeah, two weeks ago. Polo has already warned me that JD and Mara are going to grow up thinking they’re blood cousins because he’s putting dating restrictions on the poor girl and she’s only like, what, seven months old?” They both laughed before Dev continued. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is this is my weekend to head up to Iowa with Archer, but I really don’t want to leave Kristen when she’s this bad. I’d ask one of the team, but they’re all on assignments this week, even Jake. Is there any way you can swap weekends with me?”
“Actually, I already swapped with Archer. I meant to text you. But don’t worry about it. When I spoke to Dana the other day to let her know I was coming in, she said things were low-key this weekend, so we were talking about taking the kids to that indoor amusement park or something. I can do that on my own…no biggie.”
“You sure?”
He knew his friend felt bad. They usually took care of any teammate’s widow for up to two years, depending on the situation, until she got back on her feet. They would still keep in touch after that, after all, they were family, but the bi-weekly visits would gradually turn to once a month before they eventually stopped. “Yeah, don’t worry about it…got it covered. You just take care of your wife and that bouncing baby boy.”
“Thanks. Oh, forgot to tell you. I’m sending you some business. One of the new Omega guys, Kip Morrison, has a hog for you to paint. He’s a retired Army grunt, but we snatched him up from LAPD. I told him I’d hook him up with you.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be there in three weeks. Kristen called me about Kat’s birthday party coming up, so I’ll be crashing in the bunkrooms at the compound for the weekend.” The woman was engaged to their friend Ben ‘Boomer’ Michaelson, and he was throwing her a party at the BDSM club the Trident team belonged to. Being good friends with Ian and his brother, Devon, both of whom owned the place, he’d been cleared to visit, but since he didn’t want to deal with the medical clearances every six months, he didn’t have play privileges. Not that he really wanted them anyway. To each his own. But damn, some of those scenes got pretty hot, and a few times he’d left with a serious case of blue balls. “I’ll check out his ride then.”
“I’ll let him know. Thanks for the coverage and tell Dana I’ll talk to her soon.”
“Will do.” He disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the counter. Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. When he’d agreed to take the shift for Pete Archer, he tried to convince himself he was helping out a friend by swapping, but the truth of the matter was he was dying to see Dana again. It had been two months since his last trip up there with Polo, and he found himself thinking about her all the time. He’d picked up the phone more times than he’d actually called her, but he forced himself not to hit the speed dial seven or eight times a day. And now he was going to be going there alone…well, not exactly alone—the kids would be there. Hopefully, they’d be reason enough to keep from touching her the way he wanted to. Fuck!
* * *
The non-descript sedan pulled into the drive, and Dana gave her reflection a quick look in the mirror, then silently chastised herself. The guys were coming for their twice monthly visit. This time, it was Devon and Curt. The latter had called her earlier in the week to let her know he was filling in for Pete. He’s not coming for you, you idiot. He’s here because that’s what the SEALs did—they did their best to fill the void in the lives of their fallen teammates’ families.
Dana knew she would have to tell them soon that she was ready to get on with her life without her husband. Eric had been her lover, best friend, the father of her children—her everything. It’d taken her weeks to finally admit to herself he wasn’t on another tour of duty and would be home soon. Then it was months before she was able to get past the anger and hurt she felt—at both Eric and the bastard who’d hit him and left him lying on the asphalt like road-kill. But now, with the help of her family and friends, she was ready to come out of the darkness, which had shrouded her all this time, and start looking forward to the future. And a major step would be telling Eric’s team they no longer had to visit twice a month. Phone calls and visits, to her place in Iowa or where the others lived around the country, would go back to the normal rate from before Eric’s death.
Changing her mind about the lip gloss she’d pulled from the bathroom drawer, she tossed it back in and hurried out to the front door. She assumed Devon and Curt would be hungry after their flight and subsequent drive to Stormville, so she’d prepared some snacks for both the men and her children, who always seemed to be starving after school. But the kids wouldn’t be home from school for another half hour, so the men got first dibs.
Not waiting for the bell to ring, she opened the door and stepped out on the porch. When she only saw Curt her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Where’s Dev? I thought he was coming with you.”
Hauling his military green duffel out of the back seat, he tossed it over his shoulder and started up the walk to the front door. “He called me Wednesday. Kristen has been puking her guts up with morning sickness. I told him not to worry about coming or getting someone to fill in since there wasn’t much to do around the house this weekend. I hope that’s okay.”
Dana tried not to drool over the man she’d been friends with for years. When she’d started noticing him in a different way was hard to say. But somewhere along the line, she realized she was hoping the other guys would need someone to swap shifts because it always seemed that Curt was willing to do it.
As he climbed the stairs, she had to tilt her head back a little with each step. At six-foot-four, he towered over her by a good eight inches. Eric had been three inches shorter than his best friend, so with her heels on, she’d almost been on eye level with him. Curt was also a little broader in the shoulders, and over the years she’d heard many women comment on what an amazing physique he had. The two men had both been well built, but that was where the similarity ended. Eric had inherited his mother and grandmother’s dark Italian genes while Curt’s blonde hair and blue eyes had come from a long line of Norwegian DNA.
He stopped in front of her, and she realized she was staring and hadn’t answered him. Feeling flustered, she turned to open the door. “Yes…it’s…um…it’s fine. Come on in.”
When he followed and dropped his duffel in the foyer, it was then she realized he’d brought it in. He cleared his throat, catching her attention, and then scratched his head. “Um…I figured since it was just me, I could crash on the couch if it’s okay with you?”
What? Shit, it wasn’t like the man had never crashed on the couch here before. When they had first moved into Eric’s childhood home, after his parents had retired to Arizona, she’d replaced the old couch with a sleeper sofa, which had an inflatable mattress for comfort just for Curt. He visited so often, she felt bad when he insisted on taking the couch, instead of letting her move one of the kids out there so he could sleep in a bed. But that was all before she was very aware of the man in a way she wasn’t certain she wanted to be. “Uh. Sure. I mean, of course, you can
stay here. If you want, Amanda can sleep with me and you can have her room.”
He threw his head back and laughed, holding his hand to his gut. “Ah…no. Thanks, but all that purple and pink is too much for me. I’d probably smell like unicorns and be shitting glitter in the morning.”
“Now there’s an ugly picture.” Dana shook her head, happy he sounded like Eric’s old friend and not the man her body seemed to react to anytime he was near. “Come on into the kitchen. I bet you’re hungry.”
His boots barely made the slightest sound as he trailed her. It always amazed her how the big bad Navy SEALs could walk so quietly when there was no mistaking their presence when they were in a room. “It’s not much. I just put out some cheese, pepperoni, spicy salami, and crackers.”
“Mmmm. Now all I need is a beer, some pistachios, and a ballgame.” Curt quickly made a small tower out of the spread she’d placed on the kitchen table and tossed it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed while making another. “Much better than the six, damn pretzels I got in the package on the plane.”
Knowing he wouldn’t drink a beer at this hour unless it was at a barbeque or party, she retrieved a cold root beer from the fridge. She then grabbed a clean pilsner glass from the cabinet and set both on the table next to where he took a seat. Her ice water from earlier was still there, so she reached for it, but knocked it over when the house phone rang and startled her. Water and ice went flying right into Curt’s lap. He leapt up, sending his chair sliding across the floor, but it’d been too late—the jeans on his crotch and thighs were soaked.
“Oh my God! Curt! I’m so sorry!” She lunged for a dish towel hanging on the oven handle and tossed it on the table where the water was still rolling over the edge to the floor. Grabbing another one, she reached to dry him off, but his hand snatched her wrist, stopping her.
Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5 Page 2
