Protecting Lucianna

by Tiffani Lynn

  The server sets our drinks in front of us and returns to where he came from. I take a big gulp of my beer. “One sister, Briana. She was four years younger than me.” I don’t make eye contact, afraid she will see me for what I am, a murderer. I may not have intended for her to die but she did anyway, and I’ve never gotten past that. No one can convince me it wasn’t my fault.

  “Was?” Luci’s eyes are inquisitive as her fingers nervously shred the paper napkin on the table in front of her. She’s afraid of the answer and probably wishing she never asked the question.

  “Yeah, she died twelve years ago.”

  “Your baby sister?” She’s horrified.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. How could you have known?”

  “Can I ask how it happened?” She lifts her glass and takes another drink as she waits for my answer.

  “She drowned at the beach.”

  Something I can’t quite read flashes in her eyes and she takes another drink, probably to keep from asking any more questions. I never take my eyes off of hers. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for, but I’m waiting for something from her.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you and your family.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand that’s resting by my beer. “I would say if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen, but I’m pretty certain you don’t, so let’s move on.”

  Lucianna’s response is perfect. I thought for sure she was going to want to know it all, and she may want to, but she’s not pressing me or keeping us stuck in this weird place in conversation. After a big gulp of her wine, she grins at me and readjusts in her seat so she’s sitting forward with her elbows on the table.

  “Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune?”

  “Wheel of Fortune.”

  “Really?” She wrinkles her nose at me.

  “Yes, the words are easier for me to figure out than the obscure questions about ancient Greece and the letter Q.”

  She giggles a little. “Hot dogs or hamburgers?”

  “Depends on if the hot dogs are Chicago style or chili-cheese dogs, or just a plain hot dog.”

  She twists her lips like she’s thinking hard before she replies. “Plain hot dog and plain hamburger.”

  “Hamburger. Hot dogs are only good when you load them up with a bunch of toppings.”

  “You didn’t just say that!” She puts her hand to her chest in a dramatic fashion. “Okay, you’ve got one more chance to redeem yourself. If you don’t answer right, I may have to leave before dinner gets to the table.”

  I chuckle and wait for the “big” question.

  “Cats or dogs?”

  I make a big show of contemplating the answer. “Dogs, without a doubt.”

  “Big or small?”

  “You said one question.”

  “This is technically one question with a part B. Don’t drag this out. I may need to call an Uber.”

  Now I have to mess with her. She’s acting a little too serious, so I begin to hum the Jeopardy waiting music. When she realizes it, she busts up laughing, drawing the attention of everyone in the building. I keep going until the song is over.

  “Well?” she queries, exasperation in her tone.

  “Big.” I grin at her. I can already tell she’s a little dog kind of girl.

  Her face sobers instantly and she stands and extends a hand like she wants to shake with me. “It was nice to meet you but I have to go now.”

  I play along because she’s too cute not to. I stand and shake her hand, and I catch a brief glimpse of surprise before she wipes it clean and murmurs goodbye, turning to leave. I let her get about four steps away before I follow and grab her around the shoulders from behind and whisper in her ear as I hold her there. “You’re not getting out of here that easy. I didn’t get to quiz you yet. Besides, I was just messing with you. I like all dogs.” I pick her up a little and swing her back around to face the table. “Sit down, gorgeous, it’s your turn.”

  She laughs and sits back down.

  “You’re a handful, aren’t you?”

  She giggles some more as she takes her last sip of wine but never answers the question.

  “Are you dating anyone?” I blurt.

  Her grin returns as she shakes her head no.

  “How is that? You’re attractive, successful and don’t seem to be bitchy.” Her mouth drops open like she’s shocked I just said it like that, but I was going for the shock factor, hoping it would throw her off her game and make her a little more vulnerable and honest.

  “I haven’t found a man who can handle all this goodness yet.”

  Laughing, I lift my glass to her before I take a drink. “It doesn’t seem that big of a task.”

  She sobers quickly and unexpectedly, returning to her half-shredded napkin. “I was a different person before the shooting.”

  “So you had a man before the shooting?”

  She nods.

  “He couldn’t take the challenge of sticking around until you heal?”

  “Titus was willing. I wasn’t. At first, I was afraid of everything. After that I was numb and didn’t want to be bothered with anyone. He tried, he really did, even though it was hard for him to be there for me the way he wanted while concentrating on his career.”

  “If a woman is worth it, you make the time and nothing gets in your way.” I say that to her and at the same time realize she’s the first woman I’ve ever looked at and thought that. I’ve never wanted to pull my head out of my own ass so bad as I do now.

  Her hair brushes her shoulders as she shakes it. “Not that simple. He’s a professional baseball player and during spring training and the regular season, he’s home maybe ten days a month. That worked for me because over the last year I didn’t have to fake being happy or act like everything was okay. I would just be myself until he came back to town. I only had to fake being okay for a couple days at a time. During the off-season, our relationship crumbled because I couldn’t keep up an act like that. It was exhausting and I didn’t have the energy to draw from in the first place.”

  “How did he take it?”

  She scoops all her little napkin scraps into a pile, not making eye contact with me. “Not great. I mean, he wasn’t an asshole to me about it, but I hurt him. He didn’t want to give up, but truth be told, I gave up a long time ago. I feel bad about it, but I wasn’t in a place to deal with it sooner than I did.”

  “Do y’all still talk?”

  “No. It’s too hard for him. He told me if I need him, I can call him any time, but talking like friends, on a regular basis…nah. I wanted him to move on and find someone else, not be worried about me.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Coronado? What’s it like there?” she asks, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Beautiful. Right on the Pacific Ocean, outside of San Diego. Temperature is moderate and only humid in the middle of summer. The ocean is cooler than it is here, though, so most of the time you need a wetsuit when you’re in the water.”

  “A wetsuit at the beach?” She wrinkles her nose again.

  “Well only if you plan to spend any time in the water. Here you can swim in the ocean most of the year without freezing to death. There? Not so much.”

  “That would suck. Living in Miami, I’ve grown accustomed to warm water almost year-round, and I spend as much time as possible at the beach.”

  “I was the same once upon a time.”

  “Because of Briana?” her question is tentative.

  I nod.

  She clears her throat. “So tell me about your job.”

  The server delivers our food about that time so it’s easy for me to give her the CliffsNotes version.

  “I’m a SEAL, so there’s a bunch of stuff I can’t talk about. It’s interesting, it’s often dangerous and I enjoy it.”

  “You’re a Navy SEAL? Are you messing with me?”<
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  My eyebrows draw together and I swallow my shrimp and grits. “Why would I mess with you about that?”

  “That’s kind of an elite job, right?”

  “Yeah.” I still don’t understand what she’s getting at.

  “Well, you just don’t run across a Navy SEAL in everyday life. If you were a fighter pilot I’d say the same thing.”

  I chuckle a little and scoop another spoonful. “I get what you’re saying and no I’m not messing with you. It’s a tough job and training was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. If it weren’t for my buddy Wolf, I’d never have made it through BUD/S—SEAL training. Anytime I got in my head and was ready to give up, he pushed me through.”

  “Sounds like a good guy.”

  “Yeah, he is. I haven’t seen him much lately. Guess I need to remedy that when I get back to Cali.”

  We continue talking about lighter topics through dinner. When we finish, I suggest that we return to the historic district so we can see the lights now that it’s dark. Oddly, I’m nervous that she’s going to want to end the night and go back to her room. Not because I don’t want to go home, but because I don’t want to be without her yet.

  Lucianna

  Devlin is amazing. Not only does he have me talking more than I have in over a year, but he has me looking for ways to keep him around longer. When he suggested we go back to the historic district to see the lights I almost squealed in delight. I haven’t felt that giddy in a very long time.

  There’s a slight argument over who is paying for the bill but I finally give in when I realize he’s freaking the server out. I can’t imagine how intimidating a guy like him can be to other, normal men. It doesn’t help that our server isn’t much taller than me. Devlin is an easy six foot two or three.

  Once the Uber arrives, he guides me inside with his hand at the small of my back again and slides in closer than is necessary to me, causing our arms to rub against each other. The warmth of his body and the little zing I get from his touch have me ready to snuggle right up against him. I know that’s nuts, absolute lunacy to want to be that close to a man I don’t really know, but it’s nice to feel something, especially something good for a change.

  When we get out of the car and begin our walk, he reaches down and grabs my hand, glancing at me to make sure that it’s okay. Grinning, I give his hand a squeeze.

  Everything is so beautiful all lit up. There are people walking around everywhere, kids giggling and weaving in and out of the people walking, while parents call their names. It’s festive and fun and oh so good for my soul.

  “Do you smell the candy shop?” I ask Devlin.

  “Yeah, I have a sweet tooth so I picked up on that about two blocks back.”

  “Me too! I didn’t think I could fit anything else in my belly after dinner, but I think I might have to try.” I speed up, tugging him along by his hand.

  When we get inside Kilwins, we both head straight for the fudge. I can’t help myself, I love the stuff, though I can’t remember the last time I had any. The guy behind the counter allows us to sample some and I settle on the turtle fudge and Devlin goes for the chocolate fudge. Once we have some to eat and have some boxed up to take home, we leave the store hand in hand again, while two bags dangle from the fingers of his free hand.

  We wander around for a while longer before we stumble upon a bar with live music pouring out of the open windows. We pay the cover charge and find a booth in the back. The band is a little rough, all looking like old bikers with scruffy gray beards, two with bandannas around their heads, ancient T-shirts and faded jeans, but their sound is amazing. I’m more of a pop or Latina music kind of girl, but I enjoy rock and roll on occasion, and these guys know how to play it just right. They cover a few of my favorites—38 Special, Bob Seger, AC/DC—and some I don’t recognize. We both order beers, because this is not the kind of joint that serves wine, and we sit on opposite sides of the booth, turned toward the band, enjoying. Devlin sings along to most of it; I can’t hear his voice but I can see his lips move. The head bobbing, table drumming and small smile that accompany his singing are kind of fun to watch, even though I do my best not to stare. I don’t think he lets loose very often, so it’s nice to be the one who’s with him when he does, even if it’s only a little bit.

  We spend three hours in the bar, through two more of the band’s sets, before we finally call it a night. We Uber back to my hotel and oddly enough I’m not tired and don’t want to end the night. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ready for a sexy sleepover. I might be feeling some healing going on, but I haven’t made it that far. When the Uber drops us off, he walks me to the hotel and stops at the doors leading inside. “Do you want to put your fudge in your room and take a walk on the beach? I’m not ready to go back home.” Before I can even answer him, he continues, “I understand if you aren’t up for it. You’ve been walking all day. I just thought it was a nice night.”

  “Yeah, I’d really like that.” It’s almost as if he was reading my mind, knowing I’m not ready for him to stay with me but also not ready for him to say goodnight. When I’m up in the room I snag the extra sheet that’s in the closet for the fold-out couch bed and bring it with me as I head back to the lobby to meet him.

  After we walk for a while, never seeing a soul, I suggest setting the sheet out and relaxing. At first we sit next to each other, him with his long legs stretched straight out in front of him with his ankles crossed, weight resting on his hands. Me with my knees pulled up to my chest, arms wrapped around them. It’s almost representative of the protective ball I’ve lived in for the last year and a half. We talk about little things, the guys on his SEAL team who sound like characters in their own right and some of the clients I’ve had over the years. I tell him about Simone and her ex-Army stud and Sunset Security—the firm that he works for.

  As we pass midnight and the temperature drops a little, we shift positions and eventually end up with him on his back legs still straight out flat and me with my head on his chest, his heartbeat strong and true in my ear and my arm wrapped around his stomach.

  Conversation goes quiet for a while. Afraid I will fall asleep, I ask, “Where did you get your red hair?”

  “My mom’s side. She has it and her father had it. Briana and I are the only ones in the whole family that got it. My aunt wanted her kids to have it but they’re blondes. I hated it when I was younger, but now I kind of like it. Briana’s was beautiful. Curly, red and full. When she was small, she looked like little orphan Annie, but as she got older it grew longer. Everyone was envious of her hair. She was growing up to be a stunning young woman. You could see that sitting just below the surface behind her gangly teenage-girl body. The things I miss the most, though, are those little freckles that covered her nose and cheeks and even dotted her arms. They kept her looking a little younger than her age was changing her to be.”

  My heart hurts listening to him talk about her, but I’m glad he is. “She sounds lovely.”

  “Yeah, she was. Damn, I miss her. That kid was my shadow. I took her everywhere. Even my friends got used to her coming with us most places. She had a quick wit and liked to bust my friends’ chops. It kind of made her one of the guys a little bit.”

  I readjust and prop myself up on an elbow to look down into his eyes. It’s dark so I can’t really see the light blue irises that I know are there. I want to soothe his hurt, be a balm for his broken heart but I have no idea how to do that, especially since I can’t do that for myself. So I do the next best thing. I lean in and brush my lips tenderly along his and then pull away in case he doesn’t want the same. His hand, which had been resting on mine since he started talking about Briana, shifts up into my hair so he can apply pressure to bring my mouth back to his. The gentle kiss changes only slightly when he runs his tongue lightly along my lips, begging entrance. I open and allow my tongue to greet his. He slants his head a little bit to make it a perfect fit. I’ve never had a perfectly synchronized first kiss that�
��s both sweet and sexy. It’s been my experience that kisses like this only happen after you have time to learn that with someone, but somehow this man I just met is giving me the most perfect kiss of my life. When we finally break away, he surprises me by quickly rolling me to my back and resuming the kiss again, this time a little deeper, a little hungrier, but not overly aggressive. Dear Lord, he’s perfect. I’m making out on a beach with a sexy specimen of a man who’s kind, thoughtful and all-around amazing.

  He breaks the kiss and pulls back a little before pressing a quick peck to my lips, almost like a punctuation mark. “Best kiss I’ve ever had,” he shares in a gravelly voice. “Which is why I have to stop now. I don’t want to push you, and my body is begging for something more.”

  “I’m sorry.” I cringe, feeling bad.

  “Don’t be. Seriously, best kiss.” He pecks me again and this time I can’t help myself, I grip his shoulders before he can pull away and open my mouth for him to dive back in. This time our kiss becomes frenzied, changing directions and nipping at each other’s lips, going deeper. My heart is racing and my body is coming alive, every secret nook and cranny of my being is lighting up like it hasn’t in a long time, or maybe ever, and my control is slipping. My fingernails scrape gently against his scalp and he groans. That must pull him out of the moment because he jerks away from me. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be going after you like that,” he apologizes.

  My fingers slip from his neck and run down his smooth jawline, across his goatee. “I don’t remember the last time I felt that…alive,” I confess. “I didn’t want to stop.”

  “Me either, but I need to get you back to your room safely and head home. Best day I’ve had in a long time, sweetness.”

  “Me too.”

  He helps me up and folds the sheet. We wander back to the hotel, allowing the surf to cover our feet as we stroll. This time he walks me all the way to my room. The kiss he gives me by the door is reminiscent of the first one on the beach and a wonderful way to end the evening.