Small Town SEALs: The Complete Romance Collection

by Vivian Wood

  A grocery slash pharmacy. Two small restaurants. A school made of three whole buildings. A gas station. A bar. Feed store slash hardware store. A few retail spaces.

  That was pretty much the whole of it, with houses dotted here and there.

  Jared stopped his cherry-red Chevy, turned around. He drove through town again, imagining how his business would take over.

  They’d buy every business owner out for cheap, blackmailing those that tried to say no. They’d flatten all the existing structures, save maybe the school. No money to be had there.

  They’d raise gleaming new buildings, all costing as little as possible. Then they’d get a farmer to sell them the land they needed to build houses. Prefabricated, of course.

  He could see it all now, in his mind’s eye. Could almost smell the profit, it was so palpable. He was going to turn this town into a moneymaker, just like Sarepta and the other three that were in the works.

  Grinning, he turned left off the main drag and headed for Jonas Whittier’s place. Whittier was just as pathetic as this town, and he and Jared both knew it.

  Jared drove out to the farm, the flattest land around. He could see where the houses would go, picturing them perfectly. No more ramshackle barns going to seed, no more aging and ancient farmhouses.

  Jared liked things to be as clean and new as possible. He figured everyone else would love it, just as they’d loved Sarepta.

  Well, not everyone, but the people that didn’t like the changes in Sarepta were mostly old fogeys. They’d moved as soon as property and tax prices had gone up.

  He drove by sugarcane fields, bright green this time of year. He’d grown up around them, but with his father in the construction industry, he’d never gotten why people were so damned attached to the fields.

  It’s just sugar, he thought. Plain ole sugar.

  He pulled up to the Whittier place, an old farmhouse that looked like it was about to fall down. Once white and pristine, the two-story structure just plain needed to be torn down.

  Luckily, that was what Jared was here to do.

  When he got out of the car, he made sure to take a manila envelope with him. In case Jonas Whittier had any plans that went against Jared’s wishes, the manila envelope was… insurance.

  He saw the front door open, saw Jonas come out, looking cantankerous. A blond giant, Jonas never really looked happy, but today he looked downright angry.

  “What are you doing here?” Jonas asked, coming down the steps of the front porch.

  “Came to see if we can’t finish a little business,” Jared said, with an easy smile on his face.

  “No business to be finished. I didn’t even take your proposal to my lawyer.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because. This property has been in my family since the dawn of time. I can’t give it up. You would be building your houses on my son’s heritage.”

  Jared’s smile vanished.

  “You need the money,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, but this place is worth easily six or seven times what you’re offering. I can scrape by until the next sugarcane crop comes due.”

  “You need the money now,” Jared said. “The people you owe money to aren’t going to be very happy, otherwise.”

  “Screw them,” Jonas said, waving the thought away. “You need to go.”

  “Actually…” Jared said, handing over the folder. “I think you’ll find that you want to reconsider my offer.”

  Jonas looked at him, then opened the folder. His eyes went wide as he looked at the photos, one after another.

  “Where did you get these?” Jonas asked, his voice quiet and low.

  Jared smiled. Now they were getting somewhere.

  “Why don’t we go inside and talk?” Jared suggested.

  Jonas looked from the photographs to him. He slowly nodded, waving him toward the house. Jared could smell the desperation wafting off of him.

  It smelled like victory.

  13

  Rose was back at the clinic Thursday with a bucket full of cleaning supplies, ready to work. The dogs were at home, in the yard; she planned on running home to get them when the noxious cleaning odors were gone.

  She put her hair in a ponytail, rolled up her jeans, and got to work. The first thing she did was hit every surface with some disinfecting bleach.

  The ceiling, the walls, the built-in counters, the floors. Everything got a good bleaching, until the place smelled a pleasant mixture of bleach and lemons.

  She threw open the doors halfway through, for breathability. When she finally finished, her rolled up jeans and t-shirt were damp with perspiration.

  She went outside and grabbed a bottle of water from her car, leaning against the hood. The building needed a power washing, she decided. Doing that before she painted would give the new coat of paint something clean to cling to.

  She heard footsteps in the gravel, got a warning tingle up and down her spine. She turned and found Jared Chalke staring at her from less than twenty feet away, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  Same blond hair, same sky-blue eyes, same look on his face.

  She could feel her jaw drop, feel the stupid look on her face, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She just looked at Jared, horrified.

  At first, she thought he must be a figment of her imagination. Jared couldn’t be here.

  Then he opened his mouth. “Howdy, Rose.”

  He took a step toward her, that smirk of his playing around his mouth. Rose dropped her bottle of water, ran for the doors of the clinic. She managed to get them closed, locked them against him.

  She backed away, trembling.

  Heard him as he tried the doors.

  “Rose, open up,” he called. “It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

  She felt sick. She didn’t answer, couldn’t.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling at the doors again. “I thought you and me could have a little fun. You didn’t get the whole experience last time, you know?”

  “Fuck you!” she spat, uncontrollable. At least she’d been able to get something out.

  “Ah, she speaks! Now come out here and let me show you what you’ve been missing.”

  She couldn’t see him, but she could tell that he was grinning. And while she was shaking harder then hell, she was also angry beyond belief.

  Who the hell was he to think he could terrorize her at her place of work, in the middle of the day?

  She unlocked the door with a shaking hand, pushed it open. “Get back,” she threatened.

  He stepped back a few steps, looking a little surprised.

  “Jesus, Rose, I didn’t think—” he started, but she cut him off.

  “I can’t believe you have the nerve to come here and talk to me after what you did.”

  He looked a little taken aback.

  “What, gave you the night of your life?”

  “First of all, I said no. I said it loudly and repeatedly. That makes it rape.”

  “Now hold on—”

  “Just because the sheriff and the district attorney didn’t want to prosecute, that doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

  “Well, Rose—”

  “And furthermore, it lasted all of three minutes, so I don’t want to hear any more of this night of your life crap.”

  “You’re a bitch, you know that? A sorry-ass bitch,” he said, grimacing.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, or what right you think you have to do this, but you need to leave,” she said, voice stronger than she expected. “And don’t come back.”

  “You want me. I know you do, Rose. I bet you’re wet right now, aren’t you?”

  Rose felt bile rise in the back of her throat. She spat on the ground, disgusted. “You need to leave. Now.”

  “I bet you haven’t been with anyone since me,” he taunted. “You can’t.”

  Rose saw a flash of red as Colt’s truck came down the road. She was glad to see someone, anyone… but at
the same time, she wished it wasn’t him pulling into the clinic’s parking lot.

  Jared glanced behind him. His smirk turned into a sneer.

  “You’re replacing me with him? Please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’ll never really be with anyone like you were with me.”

  Colt caught the last few words as he got out of the truck, saw the distress on her face. “What’s going on here?”

  “Jared Chalke,” Jared said, offering his hand.

  Don’t shake his hand, she silently pleaded. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want Colt tainted by Jared’s touch.

  Rose watched anxiously, but Colt didn’t take Jared’s hand. He stared Jared down, until Jared shrugged and dropped his hand.

  “Uh-huh,” was all Colt said, looking at Rose.

  “He’s leaving. And not coming back,” she said quickly. She gave Jared a hard look.

  “Whatever. See you around, Rose,” Jared said, turning and walking off.

  They both stood there and watched him for a moment.

  “Are you okay?” Colt asked.

  No, I was just forced to confront my rapist, she thought. Tears rose, stinging the corners of her eyes.

  She didn’t say that, though. Instead she nodded.

  “I’m, um… I just bleached everything inside. I thought that you could power wash the outside of the building before you paint it,” she said, clearing her throat.

  “Guess what? I brought a power washer and a paint sprayer,” he said, looking down at her.

  She looked up at him. He was suddenly so appealing, in his plaid shirt with the elbows rolled up. Dark hair just a bit askew, lips twitching.

  “You read my mind,” she said, biting her lip.

  He raised a brow at the blatant undertone present in her statement, but she shook her head.

  “I mean… about the building,” she said, looking away as she flushed red.

  “O… kay,” he said. “I’ll just go get the power washer, then.”

  He went to go get it, leaving Rose to tamp down her hormones alone.

  What’s the matter with me? she chastised herself. First I’m scared out of my mind, then I can’t control my libido.

  She went back inside, shaking her head at herself. Everything inside was clean, which meant it was time to set up things so she could paint.

  As she carefully lined the walls with painter’s tape and drop cloths, she heard the sound of the power washer go on, heard the spray against the outer walls.

  As she worked, she realized she felt less afraid. Part of that was the fact she’d confronted Jared, really let him have it, nothing held back.

  Part of it though… part of it was Colt. He was tall, muscular, and he had showed up at just the right moment.

  The fact that she was somewhat attracted to him made her wonder.

  What if she proved Jared wrong? What if she slept with someone, just once… just to prove that she still could?

  Would it be so wrong?

  Fuck Jared, she thought. I’ll do it… if I can get up the nerve.

  Sighing, she went back to work taping off the space. It went quick, but the painting itself was slow work.

  Rose had three walls painted inside by the time it was dusk. Colt came in, surveying her work.

  “You should’ve let me use the paint sprayer,” he said. “Less work for you.”

  She shrugged. “A little hard work never killed anybody.”

  “I raked all the rocks outside in the drive. It looks like a new driveway out there.”

  “Yeah?” she said, glancing outside.

  “Yeah. You probably don’t have to replenish the rocks. I think most of them were just pushed to the side. And the building will dry overnight, so it’ll be ready for a new coat of paint when I come over next.”

  “Awesome,” she said.

  “I'm thinking Monday.”

  “Okay,” she said, working up her nerve.

  “Well… I guess I’ll see you then,” he said, turning to leave.

  “Umm…” she said, trying not to cringe. “Do you um… want to grab a drink? An after-work kind of thing?”

  “Me?” he said, looking surprised. “Sure. I mean, I have to go home and change…”

  “Yeah, me too,” she said. “Walk the dogs, all that stuff.”

  “Right. But after that, I would.”

  She wasn’t doing well with asking him out. She was sinking, desperate for something to keep her afloat.

  “Um… so… like seven?” she asked. “I haven’t been to The Speckled Hen yet.”

  “Sure.”

  She looked at him. “Okay.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly about to say something, then shrugged.

  “I’ll come by your house. We can walk together,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  With that awkward agreement, he took off, climbing in his truck and pulling out of the lot. She watched him go, heart thumping.

  She had a date.

  14

  Colt pulled up to Rose’s house and got out, unsure what to expect. He’d gone home for a couple of hours, all the time wondering what Rose’s intentions were.

  Did she think they were friends? Two friends, just having a beer after a long day. Or was this more like a date?

  Did she expect her drinks to be paid for?

  In the end, he’d decided to offer to pay once, see how his proposal went over. If she spurned the idea, it wasn’t a date.

  But he did shower before he changed, just in case it was a date.

  Rose appeared at her doorway, then came out to the gate. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he said, trying really hard not to look her up and down, and failing. She wore a light blue sundress and cowboy boots, her hair combed into a loose side braid.

  “You look nice,” he said carefully.

  “Um, thanks,” she said, looking down as if just now noticing that she had clothes on. “You too.”

  “Thanks.” He was just wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, but he’d take what he could get.

  He gestured toward the bar. “Should we go?”

  “Yeah, I would hate for The Speckled Hen to run out of beer before seven thirty,” she joked.

  “Well, it’s unlikely, but possible.”

  They wandered over to the bar in the the growing twilight, heading in. The place wasn’t much to look at; a row of tables on one side, a stool-lined bar on the other, a big space for line dancing in the middle.

  “Is a booth okay?” he said, pointing to one.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “How about you grab a seat, and I’ll get the drinks?” he asked, stifling the hopeful tone in his voice.

  Say yes, he thought.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said, walking to one of the booths.

  He headed to the bar, trying not to celebrate. Just because she let him buy drinks, that didn’t mean they were anything more than friends.

  Right?

  Missy walked over, wearing short shorts and a smile on her face. “Heya, stud.”

  “Hey. Two beers.”

  Missy pulled a face. “That’s no way to talk to a lady whose husband goes out of town tomorrow.”

  He looked over his shoulder. Rose was watching his interaction with Missy with interest.

  “Uhhh… yeah. I’m here with somebody,” he said. “The new veterinarian.”

  Missy’s brows rose. “Oh.”

  She spent at least half a minute checking out Rose.

  “So… those two beers?” he reminded her.

  “Oh… yeah, okay.”

  Missy moved over to pour the beers, then set them down in front of him.

  “Does this mean we’re over?” she asked.

  “I don’t… I mean, you have a husband. We weren’t exclusive.”

  “Suit yourself,” she sniffed. “Seven bucks for the beers.”

  He paid, tipping lavishly, and then carried the beers back to where Rose sat. He took the
seat opposite hers.

  “Friendly with the staff?” she said, delicately sipping from her glass.

  “Uhhh… something like that.” He took a long draft from his own beer.

  “No kidding,” she said, taking another drink. Then another.

  Awkward silence ensued. He should make conversation, he realized.

  “So… you lived in Baton Rouge while you were in vet school, huh? You support LSU?”

  “Um… yeah,” she said. “Go Tigers.”

  “Did you like living down there?”

  “It was nice,” she said. “Much bigger than my hometown, obviously.”

  “More to see, more to do, huh?”

  He watched her drink again, two huge sips.

  “Thirsty?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I just want to get drunk.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “So, tell me about your life,” she said.

  “My life?” he asked.

  “Yeah, your story.”

  “Well. There’s not much to tell.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  He considered what to tell her.

  “I was born here, obviously. I was raised on a ranch. I’m the youngest of three brothers.” He sucked his teeth, thinking. “The Colonel left when I was probably ten. Not left left, but unofficially moved in with his girlfriend. Mom passed when I was twelve. I lived with my dad for five more years, until I was seventeen and I could get into the Navy.”

  “And when did you get out of the Navy?”

  He watched her drain her drink. “I’ll go get another round, but… take it easy on this one.”

  “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy,” she said, giving him a dismissive wave.

  He slid out of the booth and went to the bar, noting the much longer wait for drinks this time.

  When he got back, he handed her a beer.

  “Thanks,” she said. “And don’t think I forgot.”

  “Forgot?”

  “When did you leave the Navy?”

  “Oh. Um, I was medically discharged with full honors about two years ago.”

  She took a drink, then sighed, seeming to fortify herself for something.

  “I suppose you’ll want my life story now?”