by Kaylea Cross
Cooper watched Fredo look around the office for something else to do, something to fix. He knew it was hell on his friend to wait. It was hell on him as well. Overseas, that was the worst part: waiting. Waiting for some action. Hard for civilians to understand, but it was way better than waiting to die. Boredom killed people. Lack of concentration could get a Team guy in real trouble. Better to be in action. Doing anything. Thank God for video games.
Coop used to tinker with a gadget he brought with him on his last tour. It was a plastic arm piece, a toy remote control device, except it didn’t control anything, just squawked and flashed lights, running on four AAA batteries. A kid’s toy.
Coop added some switches and some simulated detonator buttons and made the thing look entirely lethal, although harmless. No one ever let on that the thing was a complete fake, something they were grateful for later.
One time, when they were on an emergency snatch and grab mission, he’d forgotten to take the device off his arm. There was some limited exchange of fire, and a mob of Tangos was gathering at the end of a dusty street, menacing and angry. Coop held up his arm with the toy device, and did a mock aim into the crowd, turning on the red laser light. All they saw next were asses and elbows. The team had to struggle to maintain straight faces and not to laugh their butts off. But the toy had probably saved their lives.
Coop mused that perhaps he could make a few more of them while he waited for their next workup. He’d stop by the toy store later this afternoon. If not, there were some upscale kid’s stores around the island that might carry something that looked halfway real. That would be a good start, he thought. He had boxes of spare parts and deadly-looking wire switches back at the motor home. Shoot, if he ever got tired of being a SEAL he could work on a Sci-Fi set in Hollywood.
* * *
Gotta get my mind off things. His insides ached and his pants felt tight. No question about his need. And no question who was the only person on the planet who could fill that need.
He thought about getting another tattoo. He remembered the feel of Daisy’s delicate fingers on his sensitive flesh, and how hard she used to work on him. She’d bite her pouty lower lip as she was concentrating, her boobs brushing against him, depending on the placement of the new tattoo, until it would drive him crazy.
But hooking up with Daisy wasn’t fair to her and probably wouldn’t work anyway. Besides, Daisy deserved much better.
So Kyle had gotten himself a wife and now had little Brandon, who was slobbering all over the sliding glass door in the conference room, trying to stand up. Brandon spotted Coop, and the toddler’s eyes lit up.
“Time to babysit, or we’ll be here until nightfall,” Coop said to Fredo as he walked towards the glass door. Brandon fell back on his well-diapered butt and started to play patty cake with excitement. The little one knew all the Team members and was comfortable playing with any of them.
Coop slid open the door and the three at the table looked up. “I’m going to take Brandon for a bit, you mind?” he asked.
Christy smiled and nodded. “I have a little bottle in his diaper bag here. Coop, he might need a change.”
Coop instinctively held the toddler at arm’s length just in case the baby’s wetness became his problem. Brandon squealed and wiggled, his chubby legs busy with bicycle kicks.
Armando threw his head back and laughed. “A million dollars’ worth of taxpayer’s money spent on your training, and you’re going to play nanny, Cooper.”
“Yes, and he cooks, too,” Kyle added.
“And I can still kick your asses any time you two decide is right, and you know it,” Coop retorted. He tucked Brandon into the crook in his arm, leaned over to pick up the blue diaper bag covered in dinosaur print, swung the heavy bag over his other shoulder and exited the war zone. “Sorry Brandon,” he said to the baby. “I’m going to have to watch my language pretty soon or you’ll start swearing like a sailor, and that won’t work at preschool.”
Brandon was still trying to wiggle out of his arm. This was going to be fun. Trying to change a diaper on a toddler who wanted to slime the entire office.
He found a receiving blanket and spread it on one of the unoccupied desks, and lay Brandon on top of it. The baby tried to flip over, but Cooper held him firm. “Stop it. We’re gonna see if you have…” A large gob of yellowish poo was exposed just as soon as Cooper released one side of the diaper tape.
“Holy shit,” Fredo said as he came over. “What’s she feeding him?”
Annoyed, Cooper swore at Fredo, and, with one large hand on the baby’s bare chest turned to his Team buddy and said, “Guess.”
“Cereal? Bananas. That looks like bananas, all yellow and shit,” Fredo answered.
“You are an idiot, Fredo. Didn’t your mama or your sisters talk about this sort of thing while you were growing up? Ever date a gal with a little one before? Yeah, you have. Don’t you know anything about babies? He only eats one thing. He gets what you dream about every night, Fredo. Breast milk.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Libby and her parents situated themselves in, of all things, the Honeymoon Suite. She wondered why the suite had a second bedroom. Perhaps it was for hesitant brides who weren’t sure they wanted to consummate their wedding night? It could have been amusing if it wasn’t such a damned sad joke. But it did give her a separate room with a private entrance that locked securely.
The rose-colored suite was a bit much, but featured a great view of the Pacific Ocean. The beautiful Coronado beach stretched in both directions, with only a smattering of adults, children and dogs playing in the surf. Seagulls were standing guard on the balcony next door like tiny lifeguards.
A huge spray of Fire and Ice roses stood in a crystal vase on a glass and chrome coffee table, next to a chilled bottle of champagne and a platter of cheeses and crackers. The modern kitchen was fully stocked with drinks and some covered entrees they had ordered ahead of time. Antiques dotted all the rooms, along with framed sepia posters of movies that had been made at the Del over the years. A mahogany sideboard, stocked with books Libby recognized as romance novels stood against one wall. In more normal times, this could be a place where she could have hibernated in for months, if money was no object.
She entered her room and dumped the meager contents of her bag on her queen bed, and then hung up her travel case on the towel rack in her white marble bathroom. She was used to the vibrant colors of her parent’s Spanish-style home, with its bright, intricately colored tiled trim and red pavers. Just as well, she thought. The clean white lines of the bathroom felt soothing. The evening called for a soak in the tub and then to bed early, maybe with one of the books from the living room. She wondered if she’d have the place to herself, since her father would normally go down to the bar for a nightcap before falling asleep in front of the TV.
She scanned the bookshelf and picked out a thick book with a naked man’s torso on the front cover, by an author she recognized. Reclined on the couch, she nibbled on crackers and cheese, since her parents were occupied behind their closed bedroom door.
Glad someone has a little romance in their life.
* * *
Libby woke up with a start, dropping her romance novel to the floor. The living room was dark except for a light coming under her parent’s door. She didn’t want to disturb them, but she was restless. The pink-orange glow of the sunset was long gone and all that remained was a faint blush at the horizon. A couple of bonfires in fire pits were spaced at intervals along the beach right in front of the hotel.
To her left, bright lights from several military vehicles shone down on teams of men in single file formation. They looked like ants. She’d watched the BUD/S trainees before. She wasn’t sure it would be smart, but she felt drawn. She left a note for her parents and made it through the creaky hallways of the old hotel, brushing past ghosts of romances past and present. At last she was out on the beach, with the sounds of the surf muting every other noise. The early evening w
as clear and gorgeous. Warm sand seeping between her toes made her feel oddly at peace.
The moist sea air caressed her face. One of the things she loved about living in San Diego was that the temperature rarely varied more than about ten degrees. She wore her sleeveless white ruffled blouse and a light tan pair of cargo pants, along with her favorite pair of daisy flip-flops.
She heard the barked orders from one of the BUD/S instructors, assigned to pour pain and fear all over the young recruits. One crew of eight was struggling to get a rubber boat up over a seawall of sharp boulders. Out of the blackness of the ocean another crew emerged, laying down their oars and picking up their boat to attempt the same task. From her research, Libby knew they’d do the same thing over and over again until they worked as one crab-like unit with one mind, one purpose. The men would be switched. They’d be paired up in all sorts of ways. Weakest with the strongest. Weakest against the strongest. There would be the Smurf crew, and the giants. All while doing timed tasks where what you were doing was as important what your neighbor was doing. Elimination runs put pressure on everyone, and no one wanted to be on the boat that got eliminated.
She’d done a paper in high school on the SEALs, and brought several items to class that had belonged to her uncle Will. She’d read about the training. She missed never knowing her dad’s only brother and best friend.
Her father had acted ambivalent about her paper and had refused to let her take the medals and the folded flag her dad got when her grandparents passed on. But her mother secreted the mementos, placing them in Tupperware containers, disguised in paper towels. Libby had gotten an A+ on the paper, and cemented what was already a very solid A in the class.
She found she had more of a taste for history than she had imagined, and considered a minor in it at Santa Clara. But she rationalized her interest was because she never knew much about her uncle Will, as if there was some big dark secret there her parents, especially her father, would never let her in on.
Gradually, her studies in psychology took over, and she became as disinterested in the military as her father was.
Until now.
Yes. No doubt about it. Her world had been rocked. And she needed to get over it very quickly. Maybe it was time to start thinking about either returning to Santa Clara or applying to some other graduate program. A friend of hers loved the University of Hawaii, and she made a mental note to check online for their Masters programs.
She took a seat in the sand and watched from behind orange plastic netted barriers as the teams of men worked their muscles, worked their attitudes, and made all the necessary adjustments. She wondered what it would take to become someone like that. To think with a quick mind of a killer, but to love with the intensity she knew Cooper had. That capacity for loyalty, honor, courage, no matter what the cost. Nothing in her life until now had even come close to the adversity he’d seen.
Her childhood had been so different from Cooper’s. He was a hard-working son of a farmer. Libby had grown up in a beautiful house, with two successful parents who provided her with everything monetarily a child could ever want. And yet, as she looked at the faces of the young recruits, she realized something had been missing.
Cooper lived a simple life. How could she ever have considered staying with him in his tiny motor home that was half bed? Well, the bed part, and the shower was okay—actually it was fantastic—but the rest of it, no. Water hooked up by green garden hose to some guy’s house next door, and power from a long yellow extension cord. It was set up for a single guy with simple needs. There was no room in Cooper’s life for her. And she knew her needs were far from simple.
But something else was there that she’d always wanted. Some singleness of focus, of deep determination—a calling. Did she have that kind of calling to be a psychologist or family counselor? She knew she could help people. Was it enough?
Could she do this? Could she face her fears? Could she heal herself and go on, determined to prove to everyone, but mostly herself, that she was self-reliant, strong and capable of handling anything life would throw at her?
And do it without a man?
One of the wet and sandy boys from the surf tipped his helmet, painted with his name and class number on it, and gave her a big toothy grin. He was a handsome guy, and she pictured him in his dress whites, his cap under his left arm. She could see him bowing before her at a dance. The two-story doors of the arched ballroom were opened to the sea breeze, golden sheers bellowing inward while the two of them danced the night away. Just the two of them. She’d feel the white gabardine, rub her fingers over the medals on his chest, smell the light lemon aftershave and mint toothpaste as he’d bring his face close to hers, and…
It was Cooper’s face that kissed her in the ballroom. Cooper’s arms around her waist, lifting her up and against him, pressing her to him, and then setting her down and twirling her around like she was made of tissue paper. His smoldering gaze would never leave her as she turned this way, and then that, feeling her lips and cheeks flush red, smiling at the knowledge that he was thinking about doing all manner of things to her when he could peel off her dress. When they would be alone and naked.
The young recruit got yelled at by someone and he shrugged and joined the line of men jogging to sit atop an overturned boat.
* * *
She made her way back to the hotel lobby, dawdling along the promenade of little shops. She entered one that contained an array of stuffed animals, mostly whales and seals. Eco toys about the oceans and climate change done in bright colors for little hands and minds to wrap around were interspersed with coloring books. There were mechanical frogs and windup helicopters that buzzed and tweeted with flashing red lights overhead.
One drone replica swooped down and almost hit her in the head, and she turned to give a good dose of her mood to the operator, and stood face to face with Cooper. His eyebrows rose as he gently put down the white remote control device and stuck his hands in his pockets, raising his shoulders.
“You checking up on me?” she asked. Suddenly her stomach was boiling and her heart started pounding.
“No, not at all. I came to look at the toys,” he said, looking down at the ground.
“Sure.” She turned and began to walk out of the store. The urge to leave and go up to her room was overwhelming. She needed to get out of the tiny store.
“Libby wait. Honest. I wasn’t checking up on you. I didn’t even know you were here.”
She turned sideways and spoke into the doorframe. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.” Her words fell like lead weights. She hoped her attempt at lying worked just a little. She waited for him to say something, deciding not to run again. After all, she had every right to be here, too.
“This must be hard for you,” he said softly.
As in it isn’t hard for you? God damn it.
“Not really. I’m hoping this creep will be caught and then I can get on with the rest of my life. You gotta admit, I picked a hell of a time to drop out of school.” She felt better about those words, and so looked up at him with what she hoped was a smart smile, hoping not to reveal anything.
It wasn’t any use. He could see it, all the way to her soul. She was sure he could see her worry, her hurt, and her confusion. In that moment she wanted to run to him, collapse in his arms. Have him whisk her away to an island somewhere where they could dance in the breeze at sunset and make love all night long. Another world. Another life.
But not my life.
He cut the distance between them in three long strides and stood before her, slowly bringing his arms to her shoulders and rubbing down all the way to her elbows. It was a tender touch that set her skin on fire, filled her belly with need.
Two fingers lifted her chin as he spoke to her. “You know that if I could, I would be there, watching out for you.”
She was disappointed he didn’t bend to kiss her. Was that really what she wanted, though? Was he giving her what she needed or wanted? He c
ared about her. Wasn’t that enough?
Libby felt her emotions swell so she stepped back, and out of reach of his gentle fingers. “So you’ve told me. Yes. I understand, I think.” It was all she could say. Confusion was making her dizzy. The pain in her chest was increasing.
“I wish we’d taken it more slowly,” he said.
“Really? Because you sure seemed to be enjoying yourself,” she said through clenched teeth.
There was that little smile at the corner of his upper lip, and the crease that formed there.
Damn. Would you quit with the being in control? A part of her hated him for it.
But then she stood up straight. She was going to demonstrate the reign she had over her own emotions. She took a long pause before speaking up.
“What if we call a truce and concentrate on what works and forget the rest?” she asked.
His puzzled expression showed her he was interested, but wasn’t sure.
“What if we just stick to the mind-numbing sex?” She saw him frown. “Oh, come on, Coop, you know that part of ‘us’ is great.”
A father and teenage daughter looked up from a rack of tee shirts and then exited the store. Libby realized perhaps the conversation wasn’t entirely appropriate for this location.
Cooper grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. The warm evening air was sweet with the smells of the ocean. He drew her into an alcove beyond the protruding storefront window, where it was dark. Hope began to kindle inside her and she could feel her cheeks begin to flush. Her arousal was delicious. She softened her gaze and turned on the sultry voice she’d practiced so many times in the mirror to herself when she was a teenager. She needed all the ammunition she could get her hands on right now. And she needed to hold it all together. She wasn’t going to be the one to actually make the move. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him.
