Another silence.
Followed by another round of gut-busting laughter that ended up bringing a wry smile to Jackson’s lips. Fine, maybe it was kinda funny.
But another part of him was distressed as hell. He was twenty-eight years old—he’d always figured he’d be married with a couple of kids by now. Instead, he was still playing the field while everyone around him caught the love bug and found the woman of their dreams. Or in Dylan’s case, the woman and the man.
He wanted what Seth and Miranda had, dang it. What Cash and Jen had. What Dylan, Claire and Aidan had. Well, minus the Aidan part. He loved Dylan to death, but screwing another dude had never interested Jackson. He just wanted the love part, but it seemed like every girl he went out with was certifiably nuts.
Cash’s voice interrupted his depressing thoughts. “So I’m guessing you’re not going out with her again.”
“Great guess,” Seth cracked. “Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes over here.”
Cash flashed his middle finger at the other man, then turned back to Jackson. “This might actually be a good thing. Jen was just telling me this morning that she thinks she found the perfect woman for you. She wanted me to ask you if it’s okay to give the chick your number.”
Jackson hesitated. He wasn’t crazy about set-ups, but he’d been striking out on his own so much lately that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be more open-minded.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly.
“Maybe Jen’s friend will be the one,” Dylan said helpfully.
He shrugged, not at all convinced. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure I—”
“Sorry to interrupt again, boys.”
All four of them turned their heads as Roz sauntered to the table with a bottle of Coors in her hand. “You’ve got an admirer,” the forty-something brunette said with a barely restrained smile.
The remark was directed at Dylan, and she promptly set the beer in front of him. “Compliments of the redhead over there.” Roz nodded toward the pool table, where a very pretty woman was eyeing Dylan with a coy smile.
Dylan ran a hand through his short blond hair. “Aw, shit. Tell her I appreciate the gesture but I’ve already got a redhead waiting for me at home. And don’t you dare charge her for the drink, Roz. Put it on my tab, ’kay?”
“You got it, hon.” The older woman strode off in the direction of Dylan’s fan, still grinning to herself.
“Anyway,” Seth said after Roz was gone, “now that we’ve listened to Texas whine about his love life—”
“You asked me to tell you,” Jackson cut in, rolling his eyes.
Seth ignored him. “—how about we get back to my problem? You know, the only issue that matters.”
Cash groaned loudly. “For real? We’re still on this? Dude, just get the kids a kitten. It’s not going to kill you.”
“Wait, what are we talkin’ about?” Jackson interjected.
Dylan quickly filled him in. “The twins want a pet and they can’t decide if they should get a kitten or a puppy. Smartass wants a dog, and he’s vowed to divorce Miranda if she brings a cat into the house.”
“Cats are dicks,” Seth growled. “Seriously. They’re fucking dicks. I don’t want a pet that makes me work for their love and devotion. Jesus.”
“But kittens are so damn cute,” Dylan protested.
“Then you get one,” Seth grumbled. “Me, I’m a dog guy. Dogs are loyal and smart and they would never fucking eat you if you dropped dead in front of them. But cats? They’d turn you into a meal before your body even got cold. McCoy, back me up here. You love dogs.”
Cash chewed on his lip. “I dunno, man. Dylan makes a good point about the whole cuteness thing.”
Seth scowled. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You watch one YouTube video and now you’re going against everything you once stood for.”
“It was the most adorable video I’ve ever seen in my life,” Cash said solemnly.
Jackson had to grin. “Shit, you talkin’ about that link Jen emailed everyone? The one where that teeny white kitty was sneezing?”
“Oh man, that was amazing,” Dylan piped up. “Screw it. I’m asking Claire and Aidan for a kitten for my birthday.”
“Traitors,” Seth muttered, jabbing a finger at each of them. “You’re all traitors.”
“Me again.” Roz reappeared, this time carrying a tray of beers. “You boys are popular tonight. This round is from the ladies by the window.”
Jackson followed her gaze and tried not to wince when he spotted the group of blondes across the bar. He knew them well—all four had hit on him and his boys at one point or another, but none of the SEALs had ever taken the bait. When you lived in San Diego, you were bound to run into navy groupies, women who trawled every bar and club in the city in search of military men to hook up with. SEALs were the ultimate catch for navy groupies, but Jackson had no intention of sleeping with a woman who only wanted to brag to her friends that she’d bagged a SEAL.
One of the girls in the group boldly took a step forward, only to halt when Seth held up his left hand to flash his wedding ring, which gleamed in the dim glow of the overhead light fixture. Seth waved at the other men to indicate they shared the same status, causing the woman’s face to flood with disappointment.
Roz chuckled. “I guess I’ll be putting these on your tab, too?”
Dylan sighed. “Yup.”
“Was it always like this?” Cash asked after Roz dashed off. “When we were single, I mean?”
“What, women ripping off their panties the second we walked into a place?” Seth grinned. “The answer to that is yes.”
“I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore,” Cash remarked, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Never knowing if a chick wants to hook up because she likes me or because she’s looking to score with a navy man. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Jen.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Dylan agreed.
Jackson stayed silent, frustration building in his gut again. He didn’t begrudge his buddies their happiness, but it seemed unfair that he was the odd man out. Out of all of them, he’d always been the furthest thing from a player. While his friends had slept around and engaged in numerous threesomes and fourgies, he’d been the one looking for something more. Something real.
And now here he was, still single, surrounded by three former playboys who were now blissfully content in their committed relationships.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little envious.
A little?
Fine. Maybe more than a little. Maybe he was jealous as hell.
“You know what, give her my number,” he blurted out, interrupting Cash and Dylan’s discussion.
They shot him a blank look.
“Jen’s friend,” he told Cash. “You can give her my number.”
“For real?”
Jackson nodded in defeat.
Lord, he really did hate set-ups, but… At this point, what did he have to lose?
2
One week later
“Hey, Texas!” Miranda Masterson chirped over the extension. “Got a sec?”
Jackson hid his surprise as he balanced his phone on one shoulder and flipped a pancake on the stove in his small kitchen. Seth’s wife hardly ever called him, and the sound of her overly cheerful voice raised his hackles.
Why did he get the feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to say?
“What’s up, sugar?” he said carefully.
“So listen… I know your date with Jen’s friend was a total bust—”
“Oh, you mean because I spent three hours listening to the poor girl cry about how much she missed her ex?”
“Yeah, that.” Miranda sounded like she was fighting laughter. “But Seth said you’re still open to set-ups and I honestly think I have the perfect woman for you.”
He doubted it, but he was too much of a gentleman to say it out loud. “Yeah? And who is this perfect woman?”
“
Ginny Stevens. She’s one of the instructors at my school, and she’s absolutely fabulous. I think you two would really hit it off.”
Jackson hesitated. The date Jen had arranged for him hadn’t panned out, but if he were being honest, he trusted Miranda’s judgment a lot more than Jen’s. Cash’s girlfriend was amazing, but she was also flighty at times, while Seth’s wife had a solid head on her shoulders and was a keen judge of character.
“Yeah, I guess I could ask her out,” he finally said.
“Great! Because you’re having dinner with her tonight.”
He choked out a laugh. “That confident I’d say yes, huh?”
“Yup.” She rattled off the information about the dinner she’d set up, then signed off with, “Call me when you get home and tell me how it went!”
Jackson was still chuckling to himself as he hung up the phone and finished making his breakfast. He was due at the base in twenty minutes, and though he hadn’t been looking forward to a day of classroom demos, knowing he had a date tonight kinda brightened his mood. After that sob-fest with Jen’s friend, he was craving some good company and a conversation that didn’t involve any tears.
And who knew. Maybe Ginny Stevens would actually be the one.
Eight hours later
Ginny Stevens was not the one.
Jackson had been trying to remain optimistic for the past two hours, but he could no longer ignore the truth.
Across the booth, the petite, gray-eyed blonde was gazing at him like he was a winning lottery ticket and she had all the right numbers.
When he still didn’t respond, some of the light in her eyes dimmed.
“That freaked you out, didn’t it?” she said ruefully.
He reached for his glass and took a long sip of Coke, all the while wishing it were whiskey. Or absinthe. Or maybe some memory-wiping drug so he wouldn’t have to remember any of this.
“Uh, yeah, a little,” he confessed, shifting awkwardly on the hard vinyl bench.
“It’s just…well, I know when something feels right. And this feels right. You and me…us…know what I mean?”
No. No, he did not.
Because what woman in her right mind told a man she was falling for him within two hours of meeting?
“Ginny…” He cleared his throat, wondering how on earth he was going to disentangle himself from this situation. “Listen, darlin’, you seem like a really great person. You’re sweet and smart and funny, but…um…”
Her gray eyes promptly filled with tears. “Are you breaking up with me?”
God help him.
Three days later
“Okay, so I know it didn’t work out with Miranda’s friend, but I think I found your future wife.”
The confidence in Claire McKinley’s voice was unmistakable, and not at all surprising considering Dylan’s girlfriend was the most confident person Jackson had ever met. Claire’s job as a consultant who advised businesses on how to run more efficiently probably contributed to her air of self-assurance. But after his last two disastrous dates, he was growing more and more skeptical when it came to believing his friends.
“Jackson, you there?”
He flopped down on the living-room couch and leaned his head back. “Yeah, sugar, I’m here. So who is she?”
“Her name’s Monica. She’s a friend of mine from the gym, a personal trainer. We got to talking the other day and she said she’s tired of all the jerks she’s been meeting lately. She wants a real man, one who’s into all that chivalry stuff but also strong enough to handle a strong woman. I think you totally fit that bill.” Claire paused. “Oh, and she’s really hot, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t, but that’s good to know.” His tone remained noncommittal.
“Do you want her number? I promise you, she’s a really cool girl. Not crazy in the slightest. Very well-adjusted.”
He had to smile. “Fine. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give her a call.”
“Yay! I’m so glad you said that, because she’s expecting your call. And she’s totally free for drinks tonight…”
Three hours later
“How much do you press?”
Jackson stared at the incredibly fit brunette seated across from him in the cozy bar he’d chosen for their date.
“What?” he asked in confusion.
Monica toyed with the end of her long braid, which hung over one shoulder. “Bench-press,” she clarified. “You know, weight training. You must do some weight training to stay in such amazing shape, no?”
“Ah, no. I don’t lift a lot of weights. Most of our training is done outside of the gym.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What’s your regimen? And your carb intake?”
“Uh…” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t pay attention to carbs or diet. But I work out every day.”
“Walk me through your routine.”
For the duration of the date, he listed off everything he did in terms of exercise, while Monica offered feedback and criticism that he certainly hadn’t asked for but couldn’t deny was valuable.
By the time the server dropped off their bill, he was no closer to finding a romantic partner.
But he did have a new personal trainer.
Four days later
“Don’t say no until you hear me out!” The plea came from Annabelle Holmes, the fiancée of Ryan Evans, another one of Jackson’s teammates.
When Annabelle’s number had flashed on the screen, he’d nearly ignored the call. Because really, there was only one reason Annabelle would be calling. Seemed like the only time his phone ever rang these days was when one of his buddies’ wives or girlfriends had found “the perfect woman” for him.
Jen, Miranda and Claire had already had their turns.
Holly, his lieutenant’s wife, had thrown her candidate’s hat in the ring three days ago, which resulted in Jackson kneeling in front of a toilet and holding back his date’s hair after she’d had one drink too many at the bar.
Oh, and Matt O’Connor’s fiancée Savannah had produced a busty blonde who’d confessed halfway through dinner that she was a sex addict.
He couldn’t wait to hear what Annabelle had in store for him.
“Darlin’, I think I’m done with the matchmaking thing,” he grumbled. “These last two weeks have been torture.”
“I know, but I promise you Jeannine’s different. I’ll send you the link to her Facebook page so you can see what she’s like before you agree to anything. Will you look at it? Please?”
After a moment of hesitation, he let out a breath, feeling beaten. “Fine. I’ll take a look.”
The next evening
“So then I was, like, O-M-G, did this woman really think that someone with my facial structure could pull off bangs? My forehead is way too short for bangs! And not just bangs, but baby bangs! I swear, I looked absolutely horrible. And they were too short to clip back, so I had no choice but to wear them down all the time. It took months before they grew out. So yeah, I’m never going back to that salon, that’s for sure.”
Jackson politely sipped his beer as the blue-eyed blonde across the table shot him an incredulous look.
“Can you believe that?” she demanded.
“Sounds like a terrible experience, sugar,” he replied, all the while praying that the waiter returned with their check soon.
Compared to his other dates of late, this one hadn’t been too bad—at least until Jeannine opened her mouth.
When Annabelle had sent him Jeannine’s profile picture, the woman’s fresh-faced, girl-next-door exterior proved that his friends knew him well. Jeannine was exactly his type—a woman unconcerned with painting on layers of makeup or donning fancy clothes. A woman whose Facebook likes included football, Bud Light, and Sunday barbecues.
In other words, the woman of his dreams.
But after spending more than an hour with her, he doubted the girl had ever seen a football game in her life or drank anything other than the daiquiri she wa
s sipping. And from the sounds of it, she spent every single Sunday getting a blowout at the hair salon.
“It was terrible,” she said, nodding fervently. “But the point of this story—”
Wait, there’d actually been a point to this nonsense?
“—is that if I hadn’t switched hairdressers, I wouldn’t have met Eileen, and then I never would have introduced her to my brother Rob, and the two of them wouldn’t be happily married now.” She beamed. “So I guess the answer to your question is yes. I totally believe in fate.”
Jackson resisted the urge to pull his own hair out. He’d completely forgotten about the question he’d posed, thanks to that twenty-five minute discussion about bangs. No, he had to amend—baby bangs, whatever the heck those were.
Lord, he was ready to go. More than ready, in fact.
And after today, he refused to let his friends set him up ever again.
3
Jackson’s cell rang right after he walked Jeannine to her car and said goodbye. She’d tried weaseling a second date out of him, but he’d held his ground, telling her he was too busy with work at the moment. Not a complete lie; as an active-duty SEAL, he was on the base often, honing his skills through training ops and classroom exercises. But since the team had recently come home after a long deployment, technically he had more than enough time to date.
Jeannine had looked disappointed, but he’d refused to let those big blue eyes sucker him in. Instead, he’d planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, closed the door for her and waved as she sped out of the parking lot.
Now, he glanced at the phone display, saw Seth’s number and reluctantly answered.
“So how did date number a hundred go?” Seth’s raspy voice demanded. “Did you finally meet the fabled Mrs. Texas?”
He rolled his eyes at his friend’s mocking tone. “Not a chance. I was actually considering using that dumbass system you and Dylan came up with. You know, where you fake a call from the base.”
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 4-6 plus 2 Bonus Novellas Page 57
