A Navy SEAL for Christmas

by Zoe York

  a navy seal for christmas

  ZOE YORK

  contents

  Also by Zoe York

  Dear Romance Reader

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  The Pine Harbour Series

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  also by zoe york

  Pine Harbour and Kincaids of Pine Harbour

  sexy small town military romance

  start with Love in a Small Town

  or Reckless at Heart

  * * *

  SEALs at Summer Camp

  military rom com

  start with Skinny Dipping Dare

  * * *

  Wardham

  sexy small town romance

  start with What Once Was Perfect

  * * *

  erotic romance written as Ainsley Booth

  start with Prime Minister

  or Hate F*@k

  A classic holiday meet cute, except one of them is naked...for art! And therefore off-limits.

  * * *

  Navy SEAL Ben Simmons' return from an overseas tour hasn't gone exactly to plan. He surprises even himself by agreeing to be a model in a life-drawing art class, because the alternative is a lonely, boring holiday break.

  For high school teacher Chelsea Doyle, who is spending Christmas alone for the first time in her life, the art class she's signed up for should be a highlight. She isn't prepared for the off-limits model to be drop-dead gorgeous, or to discover the next day that he's her brand-new next door neighbor.

  Too bad she's signed a waiver to treat him with nothing but professional distance. No kissing, flirting, or anything else his sexy smile suggests.

  dear romance reader

  My mission is to create stories that reflect my readers’ dreams, and I know so many of you love my Navy SEAL books as hopeful, heartwarming, idealistic, sexy, and earnestly real. I hope A Navy SEAL for Christmas delivers more of the same, with fully-realized characters and memorable settings full of hope and heat. And it’s readable in a single night, just like watching a beloved holiday movie!

  When you finish reading, please check out the book page on my website for some of the sketches my husband did for this project. (Did you know The Viking went to art school before he joined the military? He’s a man of many talents!)

  prologue

  Six months ago

  Ben Simmons wasn’t supposed to be home. He was supposed to be getting on a plane at Naval Base San Diego, heading for a classified destination for the next six months.

  But there had been an operational delay, and he only lived a few blocks from the base, so he came back for a few more hours of shut-eye before the new report time.

  Now he wished he’d stayed in the hanger with the guys who lived further afield, because if he hadn’t come home he wouldn’t have found his girlfriend and his roommate fucking like manic bunnies.

  So he needed to find a new place to call home.

  Slightly hard to do when one was about to get on a plane in the middle of the fucking night and not be back until Christmas.

  How hard was apartment hunting via Zoom? He was about to find out.

  Also, he needed a new roommate.

  And a new girlfriend.

  Or better yet, no new roommate, and no new girlfriend, either.

  It wasn’t like he’d been deeply invested in either of them—which didn’t sound good to his own ears, he could acknowledge that as he furiously stuffed his most valuable belongings he hadn’t planned to take on tour with him into a Rubbermaid bin. He’d leave it in his truck, which was going into storage tomorrow, being picked up by a former SEAL-turned-mechanic who had found a nice niche for himself after getting out.

  Thank fuck he was used to rapid-packing.

  For a deployment, for example, or an unexpected breakup.

  Anyone who had been through a military move or two knew the drill. There would be movers who could sweep in and packing everything up for him. He wouldn’t ever need to step foot through that door again. But there were some things he couldn’t trust to strangers.

  The Christmas ornaments his mom sent him every year, for example. His photo album from basic training. His external hard drive with more recent photos, and the worn quilt that seemed to adjust to any weather in Southern California.

  He did a final scan, then grabbed the dry cleaner’s bag that held his best suit and lay that on top of the bin. His sister had insisted everyone in her wedding party wear Hugo Boss, and he’d bitched about the expense at the time, but it fit him like a glove, and if the movers lost it, he’d be pissed.

  “We weren’t really serious,” his ex said from the doorway to his room.

  He didn’t bother to glance in her direction. “Get out.”

  The words were cool. Detached. He didn’t recognize himself in the sounds.

  “I didn’t know you’d be back.”

  What part of get out had she not understood? He did a last scan of the room. Was he leaving anything important behind?

  Only his wounded pride.

  one

  Six days before Christmas

  Chelsea Doyle was on a high-stakes mission. She’d planned every element to exacting detail: her fluffy Christmas socks, an oversized water bottle with lemon slices in it, the stack of marking organized in her patented “easy to hard, and then back to easy, finish with a bang” order. And of course, her favorite Navy SEAL show on repeat, the volume low in the background, to complete the leave-no-test-ungraded project for the night.

  Because tomorrow was the final day of school. Then she would have two glorious weeks off for the holidays.

  Chelsea had big plans for Christmas.

  She’d signed up for an intensive life drawing art class at a local studio. Four nights in a row before Christmas, then four nights in a row right after as well. It was a personal bucket list item to cross off, almost a decade after she dropped art to focus on math and physics at school—a decision she had always regretted, although she loved her career as a high school math teacher.

  So she was spoiling herself with the art class. Because her family had abandoned her for the holidays, she was doing everything she loved. She was going to pick out a live Christmas tree for Christmas Eve, something her parents always refused to do. She was going to do loads of holiday baking, go for a hike, and maybe even try skating at Hotel Coronado.

  On the screen, one of the SEAL characters stripped off his shirt.

  Chelsea wriggled deeper in the couch and grabbed the first test on her stack. “All I want for Christmas is a cute Navy SEAL,” she said out loud.

  Then she laughed.

  Even though the base was right down the road, the chances of that happening were slim to none. Even if she happened to run into a burly special warfare operator at the art studio, or the farmer’s market, or while ice skating, there was less than zero chance they would give a delightfully average high school math teacher a second glance.

  That’s how she thought of herself. Delightfully average. There was nothing wrong with being average, and at some point, she would find someone who shared her interests in life—crafting, cooking, and long walks on the beach.

  She laughed to herself.

  She really did like long walks on the beach, though. And in the mountains. She wasn’t a couch potato, excep
t when grading, but she wouldn’t be caught dead running very fast, either.

  Delightfully average. And this year, all alone for the holidays.

  She double-checked her answer key, then set the first test to the side. One down, a billion to go. On the screen, the Navy SEAL had covered his ripped torso with a uniform, so she got back to work.

  It was dark when the military transport plane landed.

  San Diego Harbor had never looked prettier to Ben. Overhead was a familiar buzz of air traffic, and the salty sea breeze was the best thing he’d smelled in six long months.

  He didn’t even care that he had boxes to unpack when he got home.

  He had an apartment sorted out, and it hadn’t even been that complicated. One of the leave coordinators, a civilian who worked for the Navy to help book travel, had worked with the team that moved people across the country. In this case, they were just moving him a few blocks.

  According to his last email, the key to his new apartment would be waiting for him with the key to his truck, which was sitting in a nearby parking lot.

  Some of his teammates had loved ones waiting for them. He let them stream ahead to the hanger. They would all be back at work together the next day to debrief and receive orders before dispersing for much needed home leave.

  In fact, he didn’t need to say goodbye to anyone at all.

  He didn’t have anyone to say hello to, either, but he was walking off that plane on his own two feet, so he was damn grateful.

  A Big Mac and an ice-cold Coke would make him a completely happy man.

  In the hanger, he showed his ID card, collected his envelope of keys, and checked the fuck out.

  His truck was exactly where he expected it to be. Every time he went overseas for an extended period, his baby went into storage, and well cared for in his absence. This time was no different. It had been detailed and topped up with fuel, too.

  “Come on, girl. Let’s go find a hamburger.”

  The McDonald’s on base was open around the clock, and it wasn’t busy. He grabbed his food to go, then headed off-base. He was ready to get his first in-person look at his new digs.

  The new apartment building was farther away from the main base than his last place, closer to the commercial strip on Orange Avenue. Close to the SEAL training center, though, so he wasn’t complaining.

  He wasn’t going to complain no matter what. God damn grateful to be alive. He always felt this way coming off a tour, but this time, with the sour bitterness of being cheated on still threatening as a minor distraction, he was extra-focused on what really mattered.

  Life. Freedom.

  No women for a while. Not until he rid himself of that sourness.

  And no moping around his new place, either. He needed to get out and do stuff.

  The low-slung apartment building looked promising as he pulled into the parking lot beside it. There were two gates, one directly off the lot, the other on the street. He grabbed his takeout food in one hand, and his bag that contained his laptop and phone in the other, then looped around to the front entrance, figuring he might as well get oriented on the way in.

  The building was situated around a courtyard with a pool in the center, and outside stairwells climbing to the second and third floors.

  According to the tag on his key, he was on the top floor, in unit fourteen.

  Up he climbed, his legs protesting a bit after hours on a long flight. He needed sleep. Food first, then rack time.

  The key fit smoothly into the lock, and it turned easily.

  He pushed the door open, prepared to see a pile of boxes in front of him.

  Instead, he found absolutely nothing.

  No boxes.

  No couch.

  No bed.

  “What the f—” he barked, his voice bouncing around the empty apartment.

  Nobody answered.

  And then through the wall, he heard the crack of TV gunshots, and a murmur of a female voice.

  Great. Just effing great.

  Merry effing Christmas, Ben.

  two

  Ben made the mistake of rage texting a few buddies about the moving company’s fuckup, and word spread by the time he got to the base the next morning.

  His buddy Kent, who he’d gone through Hell Week with found him just before he was going into his appointment with the psychologist. “Sleep well?”

  “Shut up,” he growled.

  The shrink popped her head out of her office just as he said that, and Kent busted a gut laughing at him.

  He held his hands wide. “Hey, doc. I’m definitely super chill and not grumpy at all.”

  She smirked at him and gestured for him to come inside.

  Kent grabbed his arm. “Come find me after. I’ve got a proposal for you.”

  His buddy was always running some kind of angle, and usually Ben was interested, but looking at a long two-week break with nothing but an empty apartment to twirl around in…yeah, he’d be game for almost anything.

  It turned out, having a major moving company mishap was the perfect thing to spend an hour talking about with a psychologist, and by the time Ben was done, he was calmer and more open to being razzed.

  He found Kent in the gym.

  “Feeling better?”

  Ben rolled his lower lip between his teeth, thinking about how much he wanted to share. “Session was good—if that’s what you mean. I’m cleared for leave and then back to work after the break.”

  “Good.”

  “It was a rough tour,” he added as he picked up a set of dumbbells.

  “We heard.” Kent was on another team and would be heading overseas for his own rotation soon. “What made you decide to try to move remotely during that hell?”

  A motivating mix of shame and anger. “I broke up with that girl I was seeing.”

  “Ah.”

  “She’d already moved on to my roommate, it turns out.”

  Kent dropped the bar he was holding. “Fuck off. That mechanic from the Air Force?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “This is why you only room with other SEALs, man.”

  Ben shook his head. A SEAL was just as likely to tap pussy on offer, too. “All done with roommates for a while.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  “So, I’m looking for shit to do while on leave. That thing you mentioned…” Ben grinned. “Is it some kind of grueling manual labor?”

  Kent’s uncle ran a roofing business and was known to employ guys in their spare time.

  “Not exactly. How do you feel about taking your clothes off in public?”

  Ben groaned. “I’m not interested in your private stripper game, man.”

  “I don’t do that anymore.” Kent waggled his eyebrows. He had zero shame.

  Shaking his head, Ben could only laugh. “All right, then what is it this time, you nudist? Medical research?”

  “Art.”

  That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a sweet gig. You just sit there and hold still. Like sniper training, but you mostly just focus on making sure your dick doesn’t shrink—or grow. It’s important that it not grow.”

  “Is that a big problem?” Ben couldn’t resist digging into his friend a bit. “You get naked in public and your dick grows?”

  “Big problem indeed,” Kent boasted. “Emphasis on the big.”

  “I walked right into that.”

  “But the issue is,” the other man kept going, “I’m going to my mom’s place for Christmas, and she wants me to come up a few days early. So as much as it’s hard to say goodbye to six hundred bucks—”

  Now he had Ben’s attention. “How much?”

  Kent gave him a look like yeah, no shit. “It pays a hundred and fifty a night, my man. These are rich fucking people. And they want serious models.”

  “So how the fuck did you get past them?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Right back at you, you exhibition
ist freak.” But there was no heat in his words, and they both knew it. Ben rolled his neck. “It’s really no big deal?”

  “Like going to the doctor.”

  Ben could do that. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do right now. And an extra six hundred bucks would buy him a new mattress—one that had zero history of him being cheated on, too. Or if his furniture didn’t arrive by Christmas, he could spend that coin on a hotel room for a few nights.

  Chelsea got to the art studio so early, it wasn’t open yet when she walked by the first time. She headed to the coffee shop on the next block and got a salted mocha to celebrate the start of her holiday break.

  By the time she returned to the studio, the front door was unlocked.

  She signed in at the desk, then headed into the back. She’d attended a few drop-in classes over the fall, so she knew the routine. Sign the waiver. Grab a spot. The wood donkeys—an adjustable easel attached to a bench-like seat—were scratched up and covered in paint.

  It still gave her a thrill to spend time in the space, like she was a real artist.

  She set up her newsprint pad, then carefully selected her sketching materials for the evening. Conte, charcoal, and black pens. She was still figuring out her preferred method for capturing the human form.

  The room quickly filled up, and she exchanged smiles with the other students. The atmosphere was as she expected it to be. Professional but warm. Collegial.