The Found Warrior: Navy SEAL Romances

by Hart, Taylor

  “I was supposed to have another four days on the ground, one travelling back,” Blaine said loudly, pulling Elena from her thoughts.

  Worry surged inside of her. Would he have to leave? Again, she was slammed with the truth. That’s what he did—leave. Still, she reminded herself, he would be done in three months. Then he could be with her for good.

  “Okay, then it looks like I’ll be there.” Irritation colored Blaine’s words. Elena watched as he pressed end on his phone and ran his hand through his hair.

  She didn’t ask if everything was okay. Obviously, it wasn’t.

  Time ticked by, and he stayed in the kitchen, staring out the window.

  Finally, she pulled out her phone and checked the time. Almost eleven-thirty. She stood to quell the nervousness that had gripped the center of her chest and wound tightly into her stomach. After giving him more than enough time to explain, she said, “I guess I’ll go paint for a while.” She would never get any sleep at this point.

  “They need me back in three days, so I’ll have to leave in two to get there.” His words were quiet.

  She drifted over to the patio, starting to tremble. Two more days, two more days, two more days.

  He shook his head as if he could hear her unspoken thought. “I know, but we’ve been called up.” He met her eyes, and she saw SEAL Blaine. His determination, honor, goodness.

  She stopped by the door, but didn’t turn around. Did that count the nights, too? She wanted to ask, but didn’t know if it should matter this much to her.

  Blaine embraced her from behind, his arms wrapping around her middle, pulling her back against him. The world was right again. All her worries melted away. She held his hands, wrapping herself over him, never wanting this to end, not knowing how it had begun, only knowing her world needed Blaine Hammerton in it.

  “Elena,” he whispered.

  Turning, she met his lips. His hands gripped her body tighter, almost to the point of pain, but still not hard enough. The desperate way he kissed her was exactly the way she felt. Needy. Longing. Like fire needing to consume more fuel. She didn’t know how long they kissed like that.

  Finally, he sucked in a lungful of air and laughed. “Elena, how did this happen? How did we fall in love like this?”

  She knew exactly what he was talking about, because she was feeling the same way. Tears streamed down her face. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t cry, baby.” Gently, he swiped a tear with his thumb. “Please don’t cry.”

  This was not what Blaine needed. Elena’s eyes fluttered, and she tried to stop. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I shouldn’t break down on you. You’re so brave and good.”

  Then he was down on one knee, his hands still holding hers. “Elena?”

  She gaped down at him, stunned. What was he doing?

  “Elena?” he asked again.

  Her heart hammered faster. “Blaine?”

  “What if I proposed like this? Right here? No helicopter. No baseball game. Just us?” He nodded to the kitchen, the side of his lip tugging up. “Except I did make another cliché dinner for you.” He swallowed, and she could swear she saw Blaine Hammerton look vulnerable. Then it vanished, and he winked at her. “Oh. I should probably tell you that I love you while I propose too.”

  The tears in her eyes wouldn’t stop, and she tried to pull her hands out of his, but he wouldn’t let her. “I—”

  “Wait!” Blaine said. “I know you probably think I’m insane, because this is about the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Maybe if I were a woman, I wouldn’t believe some schmuck like me, but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and the way you paint … You’ve got so much talent, and you’re funny, and you’re compassionate.” He blinked again, and a tear leaked out of one eye. “See? I’m even a blubbering idiot with you, but I have never felt more certain of anything in my life, Elena. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to elope with you. I’m thinking we go to Vegas tomorrow morning, get married, spend the night, see me off. Then regroup after that.”

  Crazy, hyper butterflies swarmed in Elena’s stomach, even as Blaine’s words wrapped her up in a cozy cocoon. Her thoughts raced at a million miles an hour.

  Blaine squeezed her hands. “Being with you, getting coffee for you, cooking for you, looking at art, watching baseball, talking—” He broke off. “Man, the guys would think I’m whipped, and I don’t even care.”

  She laughed through more tears, buzzing with happiness. “I—”

  “Wait! Did I tell you that I can really see us looking at albums of our kids one day? And telling them about how we met and you took a poor soldier back to your place and fed him pancakes until midnight. Elena, I connected with you, and I’m different with you. I’m better. I can’t even explain it right, but connecting to you makes me feel like I’ve actually connected to the world. Before, I was lost. I didn’t think I was, but I was.”

  She smiled. “I was, too.”

  “Be found with me, baby.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I need you. I need you so much.” He cheesily rubbed his nose against hers. “I even understand Romeo.”

  “You do?”

  “If I found you dead, I wouldn’t want to be alive.”

  She laughed and shook her head, unable to believe this had happened so fast.

  “Marry me, Elena. Marry me, elope with me, and I’ll make you happy. I’ll prove to you for the rest of your life it was the best decision you ever made.” He finally let her hands go.

  She was shaking, and she stumbled back. She thought of her father and Antonio and the gallery. She thought of how Blaine was leaving. She stared into those blue eyes and knew, despite everything, she wanted to be with him. “Yes.”

  His eyes lit up. “Yes?”

  She fell into his embrace, and they toppled to the floor, laughing. “Yes.” She smothered him in a kiss.

  He held her close. “You’re sure?”

  “Let’s go to Vegas.” She smiled, then pushed her lips to his, and she knew she was lost and found and never wanted to be without him.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, Blaine woke with a start, but he hadn’t slept in too late. It was only eight, though Elena wasn’t next to him.

  They’d fallen asleep on her bed, her inside the covers, him on top, wrapped in each other’s arms and the dreams of the future. They were going to elope. They’d bought tickets to Vegas at noon, and with the time change, they would be in Vegas by four. He smiled. Married by six. Then … He wouldn’t think about that yet. Why should he be nervous? He was marrying Elena, and he loved her. It was more than he’d ever hoped for, more than he could have even known. It would work out, right? For the first time doubt started to creep in.

  He thought of what Elena would be facing after he left. Her father and Antonio. The gallery. His excitement soured into unease. Were they doing the right thing?

  He stood, knowing Elena would be painting. He grabbed his wallet and rushed out for coffee, liking that they had a pattern. Liking that they would have a pattern when he was back in three months.

  He got to the coffee shop, and the girl made his “usual” and asked him out.

  “I’m engaged,” he said, knowing he was blushing.

  “Really?” The barista gave him a playful look. “You don’t have to make up lies to fend me off.”

  “No, I really am.” Did he sound like he was gushing?

  She smiled at him and put out her fist. “Congratulations.”

  He fist-bumped her and took the coffees, whistling in contentment as he walked back to Elena’s loft.

  Before the elevator doors opened, he heard shouting. Every part of Blaine went into SEAL mode. He forced himself to calm, tempering his alarm, and his laser-like focus landed on Antonio.

  Antonio, who was dressed in a suit and tie, turned an angry look on him. “Oh, the mystery man is still here.” His eyes widened. “And bringing in morning coffee. How cute.”

  Elena, who still wore
her pajamas, had put her hair with the paint sticks in the way Blaine found so attractive. She already had a smear of paint on her cheek and white paint all over her hands. “I told you to get out, Antonio.”

  Blaine calmly set the coffees on the counter before moving to Elena’s side.

  Antonio glowered at him. “I know who you are, Sergeant Hammerton. You’re special ops. You’re the kind of guy who thinks he is above the law.”

  Blaine lifted his chin at him. “You’re the one walking into people’s homes without knocking.”

  “Elena told me about the impending marriage.” Antonio threw up his hands and let out a sardonic laugh. “You walked into my life, and you’ll regret it.”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow at Elena. “This dude has issues.”

  Elena didn’t look happy—not quite about to cry, but not calm either.

  Antonio narrowed his eyes at Elena. “Just to inform you, I feel, as your father’s chief of staff, I’m going to have to tell your father of your antics. And he’ll be publically embarrassed. His only daughter eloping? He does not need this kind of press right now, wondering about his relationship with his daughter.” He scoffed, looking down on her. “You’re never seeing another dime of his. And since I’ve been informed you’re already ninety days past due on the mortgage, the bank will put the building into immediate foreclosure.” He turned and punched the elevator button.

  Ninety days past due? This was a surprise to Blaine.

  Elena glared at Antonio. “Go to hell!”

  Blaine wanted to take two superhero steps toward him and Hulk punch the guy.

  The elevator opened, and Antonio turned back. “Elena, you know he’s going to leave. Then you’ll need me again.”

  Tears trickled down Elena’s cheeks. “I hate you.”

  Looking satisfied, Antonio stepped in and pushed the button, crossing his arms and glaring at them.

  When the doors shut, Blaine touched Elena’s arms. “Are you okay?”

  Her expression was hollow, as if her anger had burnt out everything inside. She cursed.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Elena shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “Listen, I have some money saved. I’ll transfer it to you now. It’s yours, and I’ll be having some life insurance from my dad that you can have.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “The gallery costs a lot.”

  “I have credit cards,” he offered, thinking of all the cards he’d accumulated and activated but never had a reason to use. “They’re yours.”

  “No.” She blew out a breath and nuzzled into his arms. “I don’t want to think about all this. I’m going to Vegas and marrying you.”

  Blaine held her for a moment, wanting to fix this. “I don’t want you to lose everything.”

  With a said smile, she said, “You trying to back out already, Hammerton?”

  He ran a hand down her hair. “Never,” he whispered into her ear.

  “I’ll call Marissa. We were supposed to be hearing from a possible investor today.” She blinked. “I need you, soldier.”

  Her look was so vulnerable and sincere it nearly broke his heart. Tugging her to him, he said, “I need you, too.”

  * * *

  He’d changed into his formal military suit, and she had changed into a white summer dress. Walking off the plane in Vegas was the best feeling of his life. With Elena at his side, her red hair in soft curls around her face and her bright, hopeful smile, he felt unstoppable. Yes, this would be the best day of his life. The day that would be the beginning of everything new.

  They still didn’t know about the possible investor or not, but Elena kept insisting that she didn’t care. She didn’t care what the cost might be; she would be his wife.

  It didn’t take long to find a Chapel of Love on The Strip. The lady in charge put white daffodils in Elena’s hair. Blaine paid the lady, and she told them it would be a five-minute wait.

  They went into the chapel and sat at the back, watching the end of a wedding already taking place. Elvis was marrying the happy couple. They hadn’t requested a “figure from history,” so they would just have a preacher.

  Elena sat close to Blaine, and he smelled her coconut perfume. She turned to him and leaned on her tiptoes. He kissed her, loving this woman so much. This kiss was filled with everything—hope, love, trust.

  Pulling back, she stared into his eyes and said, “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “Me too.” He kissed her again, then grew still. Something nervous twisted in his gut, the same kind of feeling he had in combat. He knew it was the same kind of feeling his father had described in his letter. Blaine had told Elena about how he’d felt directed by God, many times, on different missions. When this feeling hit him, he instinctively knew something wasn’t right. Maybe it was the fact she would lose the gallery or the fact her marriage to him would further estrange them, but this feeling took his breath away.

  She frowned, staring at him. “Blaine, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He tried to push it away. It had to be nerves, wedding-day jitters. But he wasn’t the nervous type. He never got “nerves” as other people would describe them. The feeling intensified as he thought of what Elena would face after tonight: an upset father, an extremely irritating ex-boyfriend, the loss of her mother’s gallery.

  Facing forward, he shut his eyes for a moment and tried to ignore the increased tightening in his gut. Dang it, he couldn’t marry her and leave her to face everything by herself. He thought about how if she didn’t marry him, she could get on a plane for Washington tomorrow morning, and everything would go back to normal for her. She could avoid alienating her father permanently.

  He looked around. What was he doing marrying her in this Chapel of Love anyway? This wasn’t good enough for her. He couldn’t do it.

  The other wedding finished, and Elvis did a dramatic announcement that the bride and groom were married. A couple of people clapped. Then the lady that ran the place approached Blaine and Elena. “It’s your turn,” she said, gesturing for them to get up.

  Elena quickly stood, a look of anticipation and happiness on her face.

  Blaine remained sitting. His hand took hers to keep her from darting off, his grip gentle but firm. “Elena, I … can we talk?”

  “Right this way, please,” the lady in charge said. “Gotta keep things moving.”

  Elena hesitated, her eyes squinted. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said, standing and keeping her hand. “I just need to talk to you outside.”

  “You two, this way, please,” the lady insisted, motioning down the aisle toward the preacher.

  Elena frowned at him, then turned red. “Are you backing out?”

  The horror that washed over her face made him feel awful. Taking charge, he pulled her toward the door. He put a hand up to the annoying lady. “Just give us a minute.” He tugged Elena out of the chapel and out the front door.

  “You’ve just lost your spot,” the lady’s voice called after them.

  “Blaine,” Elena said loudly, yanking back her hand and looking on the verge of tears.

  Blaine closed the gap between them, pulling her to the side of the building.

  “Blaine!” Elena repeated. People were walking by the chapel, and her outburst drew a few looks. “You’re really backing out on this?” Her eyes were glossy with disbelief.

  He pushed back his own emotion and took both of her hands into his. “I can’t do this to you, Elena. I can’t.”

  She tried to get out of his grasp. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  He wouldn’t let her go all the way. He kept his hands on her arms. “What kind of man would I be if I married you and then left you to lose any relationship with your father? And to lose your gallery. Your mother’s gallery.”

  Elena froze.

  “I love you so much, baby.” He gently pressed his hands against her perfect, lovely face
. “And it’s gonna be right in three months when I get back, but I don’t want to do it like this, in some sleazy Vegas Chapel.”

  Tears fell down her cheeks. “But I need you.”

  Hearing those words made him want to move mountains for this woman. He kissed her forehead and whispered into her ear. “We’ll do it the right way. In public, with your father.” Yes, he wanted to do this the right way.

  The middle of her brows creased together, and she pressed her eyes shut. “But …”

  “Shh.” He tucked her into him, wishing it was right, wishing he was about to take her back to the hotel and … But he noticed that feeling of craving the honeymoon had subsided. He didn’t want to do anything that would compromise her. And she’d made a decision to wait for intimacy until marriage; he would honor that. Tugging her back, he stared into her eyes. “I don’t want your life exploding when I return to base. I can’t promise to take care of you and then leave you to face your father, the press, the loss of the gallery you’ve worked so hard to keep.”

  She sniffed, looking lost.

  “When I make vows to you, I want to be able to keep them. To be here for you. To be able to get you coffee every day. To cook for you.” He blew out a breath.

  “Did God just tell you not to marry me?”

  Letting out a sigh, he took her hand. “Jules, God told me not to explode your life.” He brushed his lips to hers. “I want you to go to Washington tomorrow, talk to your father, give that speech, and save your mother’s gallery.”

  More tears washed down her face, and she buried her face in his uniform, throwing her arms around his neck.

  He held her. “I’m sorry. I promise we’re going to do this the right way. I promise.”

  Pulling back, she hiccupped and glared at him. “Fine. Then I want to get married on a beach, Blaine Hammerton.”

  “Done.” He brushed his lips to hers, a bit of happiness surging back into him. “I’ll be back in no time. It’ll just be three months, and then it’ll be forever.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “This story isn’t turning out so great for the grandkids.”