by Seton, Cora
“Fine, you’re a great driver. You never, ever text in the car. And you never, ever touch up your make-up when you’re sitting in traffic.”
“Sitting in traffic,” she emphasized. “Hence, not moving. Why can’t I pass the time by putting on some mascara? It’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do in traffic.”
“Agree to disagree.”
He stood up and crossed his arms, completely unfazed by his nudity, though Jen wasn’t exactly complaining because she happened to love it when he was naked.
“Okay, so what’d you do then?” His face paled. “Shit, don’t tell me you’re springing a dinner with the admiral on me. We agreed that going to your parents’ place would be a monthly thing. And we already went this month!”
Jen couldn’t control her laughter. Seeing her big, tough SEAL cower at the thought of spending time with her dad was pretty damn funny.
Though she had to admit, her father was incredibly terrifying. Just because Gary Scott was no longer active duty didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of scaring the crap out of people, and he’d used his enhanced intimidation skills to scare more than a few of his “little girl’s” boyfriends over the years. But despite the cross-examinations Cash faced every time they saw her dad, Jen knew that both her parents loved him.
She slid out of bed and headed for the clothes-littered armchair in search of a T-shirt. “Don’t worry, we’re not seeing my parents until next month,” she assured him.
She found a shirt in the tangled pile of clothes and slipped it on, then gazed ruefully at the torn lingerie strewn across the hardwood floor. Sighing, she wandered over to her underwear drawer to get some boring old cotton panties. It really was impossible to own anything expensive when you lived with a caveman.
“Rick called to tell me about my latest assignment,” she said nonchalantly, keeping her back turned as she rifled through the drawer.
“Oh, that’s all?” Cash’s tone relaxed. “You had me worried.”
She wiggled into her underwear, then turned to face him. “It’s a little different from my usual jobs,” she admitted. “I’ll be going to, um, Honduras. To photograph a couple villages.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Are you serious?”
She nodded, and when he didn’t say anything else she hurried on, telling him the same things she’d told Claire earlier. She played up the poverty angle and played down the gang warfare, but she could see from Cash’s expression that she wasn’t doing a very good job convincing him.
“I’ll only be there for two days,” she said. “And I’ll have military transport to the villages and a marine escort at all times.”
Cash didn’t answer. His expression had gone cloudy.
“Look, I’m not going to lie,” she said softly. “We both know it’s not the safest place at the moment. There’s a war on drugs, conflicts with the gangs. But there are also a lot of people in need.”
Still no answer. The cloud in his eyes gathered in strength, darkening, glinting ominously.
“People are starving. There isn’t enough food or clean water. The living conditions are awful, and the streets are full of homeless people. Children, Cash. The major relief foundations are refusing to help because of the gangs, but this article that the magazine is running, the pictures that will go with it—my pictures—it’ll help raise awareness.”
As his silence dragged on, Jen fought a burst of frustration. She ran her hands through her tousled hair to smooth it out, then grabbed an elastic from the dresser top and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Will you say something already?” she grumbled.
Cash met her eyes, his jaw tighter than she’d ever seen it. “No.”
“No, you won’t say something, or—”
“No, you’re not going,” he cut in.
His voice was low but ferocious, and he’d widened his stance in a pose of pure aggression. Cash McCoy was a menacing sight on a good day, but when he was angry? He was downright formidable.
But Jen wasn’t scared of him, and her jaw fell open as his words registered. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His expression went hard and forbidding. “You’re not going.”
Chapter Three
‡
Would it be wrong to hit the man you loved?
Probably.
Besides, Jen didn’t really want to hit him. Maybe kick him in the shin, though. Or throw something at him. Because…had he really just told her she couldn’t go?
As in, he was attempting to dictate what she could or couldn’t do in her own life?
“Okay, just to be clear,” she said tightly. “You’re telling me I can’t go?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Cash shot back.
Anger and disbelief twisted in her belly, making it difficult to keep the hostility out of her voice. “So you make decisions for me now?”
“About this? Hell yes.” He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on, his sculpted shoulders rigid with tension. “You think I’m going to let my girlfriend happily stroll into a war zone? No fucking way.”
“First of all, it’s not a warzone. And second, even if it was, how is me going any different from what you do?” she challenged. “You put your life at risk on a daily basis!”
“That’s what I trained for, Jen! I went through years and years of training that taught me how to handle myself in dangerous situations.”
“And I can’t handle myself?” she demanded, her skin prickling with offense.
“No, you can’t,” he said bluntly. “You’re trained in self-defense, not in urban warfare. Central America is too unstable right now. It’s too fucking dangerous, especially for a woman traveling alone.”
“I won’t be alone,” she insisted. “I already told you, the magazine is arranging for a military transport. And there’s a whole unit of US Marines down there training the local military.”
“That doesn’t mean shit if you’re in a town that’s overrun with gangs and they open fire on you, or kidnap you, or kill you.”
“We won’t be going into areas like that.”
“The whole country is areas like that!”
Cash snatched his shirt off the floor and threw it on, radiating waves of white-hot anger.
But his response had left her equally infuriated. It would’ve been one thing if he’d calmly suggested they talk it over, but to flat-out say she couldn’t go? With no discussion? Without even hearing the details?
She didn’t mind a caveman in bed, but this was ridiculous.
“I’ll be taking every precaution. And you know I’ve visited poverty-stricken areas before. I only do boring portraits for Today’s World, but I used to travel on my own, remember?”
“The other places you’ve gone haven’t involved drug cartels and—” He stopped and shook his head. “I don’t know why we’re even still talking about this. You’re not going.”
Every muscle in her body seized to the point of paralysis. Jen could barely take a breath she was so furious. She stared at Cash’s inflexible expression as she struggled to control her temper.
“You have no say in this,” she said stiffly. “If I choose to go, then you can’t stop me.” She stuck out her chin. “And I choose to go.”
Astonished blue eyes stared back at her. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Does it look like I’m kidding?”
“You’d really put your own neck on the line just so your pictures can be featured in a lead story?”
The harsh words stung. “It’s what I signed up for when I got into photography,” she snapped. “I never wanted to be a bubblegum photographer who takes portraits of cats and babies and frickin’ fruit baskets! I want to shed light on real issues and make a difference.” She glared at him accusingly. “You know that. And you always said you supported it.”
“I do support it.” He glared right back. “But not when there’s a risk to your life.”
“There’s a risk to your life every time you go wheels-up.
Every time you’re deployed for months on end.” Frustration clawed up her throat. “I have to live with that every fucking day. The worry and the panic and the fear that I’ll never see you again—”
“Jen—”
“Well, it’s your turn to live with it. I’m going, Cash.”
“Jen…” A warning note crept in.
“I’m going,” she repeated. “And as much as I would love your support about this, I don’t need it in order to accept this assignment. Nor do I need your approval.”
Cash didn’t answer. A noticeable vein appeared in his forehead, his mouth set in a tight, angry line. He looked ready to explode, but Jen didn’t care. His high-handed, domineering reaction to this whole situation had seriously pissed her off.
“By the way,” she said curtly. “I leave tomorrow.”
Deafening silence crashed over the room.
And then Cash stormed out without looking back. A moment later, the front door slammed so hard it shook every wall in the apartment.
Jen’s face collapsed the second she was alone, the defiant front she’d put on crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide. She still had every intention of taking the assignment, but God, she hated that it had caused a rift between her and Cash.
And she resented that he couldn’t see why she had to do this. She’d grown up in a household where nobody had taken her seriously. She’d watched her parents and brother devote their lives to helping people—her mother saving lives with her nursing career, her dad and Carson serving their country.
Jen hadn’t had any of their skills, but the need to follow in her family’s footsteps had always been there. She hadn’t planned on becoming a professional photographer—she’d been happy posting stuff on her blog and taking pictures for herself—but then she’d met Cash, who’d seen her work and convinced her that she had talent. And now she was using that talent to do some good.
So what if this assignment was more dangerous than her previous ones? It wasn’t like she was walking in blind. The magazine would take measures to keep her safe, and even if things did get dicey, she was willing to risk it. Other people risked their lives for good causes every day, so why couldn’t she?
It was glaringly obvious what this was about—Cash didn’t trust her to take care of herself. He’d told her so many times that she was strong and smart and capable, but clearly that was bullshit. Clearly he thought she was a weak little damsel who needed him to protect her.
But that was bullshit. She was strong and smart and capable.
And if the man she loved couldn’t see that, then maybe he wasn’t who she’d thought he was.
Cash couldn’t believe he was willingly driving to see the admiral.
After three years of dating Jen—two of which they’d been living together—he still wasn’t comfortable around her scary-as-fuck father, a man who could stop terrorists in their tracks with one menacing look.
And possibly the only person who might be able to neutralize this clusterfuck before Jen got herself killed.
Cash eased his foot off the gas as he drove down the exit ramp for Del Mar. The engagement ring he’d bought today was burning a hole in his pocket. He’d almost given it to Jen after she’d told him about the job, but he’d forced himself not to propose out of panic.
Why the hell had Jen’s editor offered her that assignment? She was an incredible photographer—nobody could argue that—but she wasn’t equipped to deal with gangs and drugs and potential abductions. And Cash would be damned if he lost her over a few photographs for a fucking magazine.
The pressure weighing on his chest dissipated as he neared Jen’s childhood home. The admiral would fix this. He had to. Gary Scott worshipped his daughter—no way would he allow his little girl to place herself in harm’s way like this.
Cash parked the SUV at the end of the long driveway, then made his way up the flower-lined path to the front door. He wiped his panic-damp palms on his jeans, rang the doorbell, and waited.
Jen’s mother Laura answered the door with a delighted smile. “Cash! What are you doing here?” She immediately went pale. “Is everything all right? Is Jen all right?”
“Jen’s fine,” he said quickly. For now, he almost blurted out. Instead, he cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his feet. “Is the admiral around? I wanted to run something by him.”
Laura’s features relaxed, the smile returning to her face. She had Jen’s smile. And Jen’s eyes. Jen’s hair. His heart squeezed as he stared at the older version of the woman he loved. He liked knowing what Jen would look like when she got older.
And he planned on making sure she got older. They’d live well into their eighties, damn it. In a house just like this one, with a big porch where they’d sit on rocking chairs and sip their fucking lemonade.
“Gary’s in the study,” Laura told him. “Why don’t you go on in? Do you want something to drink, sweetie? Coffee? Juice?”
“No thanks. I won’t be staying long.”
She paused in the hall, studying him intently. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You look upset.”
“No, I’m fine.” He swallowed the panicky lump in his throat. “I just needed some, uh, fatherly advice.”
Laura beamed at him. “I’m sure Gary will be happy to give it.”
Yeah, right. From what Cash had seen, Gary Scott wasn’t a candidate for father of the year. He was tough as hell on Carson, Cash’s commanding officer, and insanely protective of Jen—which was exactly what Cash was banking on now.
He found Jen’s father in the den, sitting in an armchair and reading a biography on George S. Patton. Figured. Of course the scariest man on the planet would be drawn to the scariest military general in history.
Gary was in crazy-good shape for a man his age. Tall, broad, and muscular, with threads of silver in his short blond hair and blue eyes that sharpened when he saw Cash. “I didn’t realize you and Jen were coming over today.” He frowned. “Laura didn’t mention it.”
“Um, we’re not.” Cash stumbled on the words. “I mean, Jen’s not here. It’s just me, sir.”
Gary narrowed his eyes. “I see.”
“I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kinda important.”
Jen’s father set his book on the end table and nodded to the chair across from his. Cash instantly planted his butt down on it, because when the admiral said jump, you didn’t even pause to ask how high. You just jumped.
“I’ve been expecting this,” Gary said. “And I have to admit, you took your sweet-ass time, son.”
Cash blinked in confusion. “Sorry, what?”
“My blessing.” Gary cocked his head “That’s why you’re here, right? To ask for my blessing to marry my daughter?”
A flash flood of panic swept through Cash’s body. Oh shit. Of course the admiral assumed he’d come here for that. And the man wasn’t wrong—Cash had totally planned on asking him for Jen’s hand in marriage. Just not today.
But hell, why not? He might as well save himself another visit, because God knew he didn’t want to spend any more quality time with Gary Scott than he had to.
“Yes,” Cash said clumsily. “And no. I mean, yes, I do want your blessing. But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”
For the first time since Cash had known him, Gary seemed like he was fighting a smile, and the humorous expression looked completely foreign on his face.
“Let’s focus on one issue at a time.” The older man leaned back in his chair and crossed his bulky arms. “You want to marry my daughter?”
“Yes, sir.” Cash reached into his pocket and pulled out the black-velvet ring box. He hesitated, then held it out. “I bought her this today.”
“I see.” Gary tsked in disapproval. “You purchased a ring before you came to me. You must have been confident I’d approve.”
Cash had to grin. “We both know you approve of me, sir.”
“Really? And why would you think that?”
“Because I make her
happy,” he said simply.
Gary flipped opened the ring box, and to Cash’s shock, genuine emotion flickered in his eyes. “You know her well,” he said gruffly.
Cash swallowed. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
Jen’s dad examined the ring, then snapped the case shut and handed it back to Cash. “She’ll love it.” He paused. “And I can’t argue with what you just said. You do make Jenny happy. She loves you.”
“I love her, too. So fuc—frickin’ much.”
“Then let’s not waste time. You have my blessing, Petty Officer McCoy.” Jen’s father shrugged. “With that said, if you cause her even an iota of pain, I will drown you.”
Cash resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d just been issued the Scott family’s standard threat, and it was one he’d received from both Carson and the admiral on more than one occasion.
“Trust me, sir, I will spend every day for the rest of my life making sure she’s happy and safe.” He choked on the last word. “The, ah, safety part…that’s actually the other reason I came here.”
The admiral’s features hardened. “What do you mean?”
Cash hurriedly explained what had happened between him and Jen, and how determined she was to take the assignment, and he was gratified to see the concern flickering in the other man’s eyes. Thank God. Maybe the admiral would succeed in talking some sense into his daughter where Cash had failed.
“Hell.” Gary reached for the whiskey tumbler on the oak side table and took a deep swig. “It’s a wonder I have any hair left with all the stress that girl causes me. Did you know I started going gray when she turned sixteen?”
Cash implored him with his eyes. “So you’ll talk her out of it?”
“No.”
The shock that pummeled his chest nearly knocked him off his chair. “Why not?”
“Because she’s not a teenager anymore,” Gary said quietly. “She’s a grown woman, and I have to let her make her own decisions.” A rueful look flitted across his face. “The last time I tried interfering in Jenny’s life, both my wife and daughter gave me hell for it.”
