Hot SEAL, Single Malt (SEALs in Paradise Book 9)

by Kris Michaels

  Gunner rolled his eyes. "A.J."

  "Yep. She opened up the day after I hired her, and we've never looked back. She's a damn good manager. The first day she opened, Delmont swung by to check on the place. He saw her inside, counting money and called for backup since he was off duty. Cops surrounded the place. They stormed the pub, broke the main doors and damaged a window.”

  “No shit.”

  His dad grinned. “Yeah, you’ve met her. Can you imagine? Well, after the dust settled and Delmont healed from his wounds, A.J. went to the mayor, promised she wouldn't sue the city if they repaired all the damage to the pub." His father chuckled. "The Walrus received a brand-new facia. I'd been saving up to replace those doors, but since I didn't need to do that anymore, we took the money and improved the porch, so people can sit outside on nice nights and have a drink without the hubbub of the pub overriding the conversation."

  "That was a great idea, Pops." Gunner nodded his head. “I like the idea.”

  "It was her idea."

  Until that.

  His dad shrugged and lifted his water glass to his lips. "I know you don't like her..." He took a drink and held up his hand silencing Gunner's response.

  Three times in less than twenty-four hours. What was with the people up here not letting him speak?

  "She's organized the shift schedule and maximized our profits by cutting out some of the things I let slide. No more freebies to the bartenders’ friends, unless its soda. Half-priced drinks are alright, so we at least make costs on the friends’ drinks. Some of the old timers didn't like it, but they sucked it up or left. Don't really miss those who did move along."

  "Good. I'm sure we can keep those practices going. You realize you don't need her now that I'm home. Give me a month or two to get my feet under me, and I'll be ready to take care of whatever you need." Gunner leaned back as the waitress delivered their drinks. She smiled and batted her lashes at him, but he wasn't in the mood to be impressed. He’d had enough of the female of the species today, thank you very much. He shifted in his seat, still feeling the echoes of pain in his balls. Ghost pain to be sure, but you just don't forget a thing like that. He lifted his drink and took a long pull on it.

  His dad took that moment to drop a bomb on his ass. "Son, she's bought into the business. She owns twenty percent."

  Gunner swallowed hard, pulling the liquor down without choking or spitting it back up. The expensive drink swirled like sawdust in his mouth. He had no idea his dad had considered selling a portion of the pub. Hell, not that it mattered, the Walrus was his dad's to do with as he saw fit, but if she was part-owner that meant... He glanced over at his dad. "How much time does she spend at the pub?"

  "Lives and breathes it, just like I do. Like you will if you’re still offering to take it over for me."

  Gunner closed his eyes. "Fuck. Me."

  "If it is any consolation, she's a nice person. Hell, she made me start exercising. We walk every day. She's got a family back in Texas. She was raised with solid values and morals. She’s grounded and a hard worker." His dad took a sip of liquor and a small smile spread across his lips.

  Gunner processed the information. "Where do you walk?"

  His old man shrugged, "Just around. She stops by, and we head out every day before we come into work. Together. Only had two cars today because I was in San Francisco."

  "Wait. Hold on. Where does she live?" Gunner knew the answer before he asked it, but damn it, he needed confirmation anyway.

  His dad had a smirk on his face. "Next door to you in the rental property."

  "Shit." Gunner took another slug of his drink.

  His father chuckled. "I think once you get to know her, you'll like her. I always figured she was the type you liked. Not that I would condone you mixing business and pleasure with the part owner of our business.”

  Gunner glanced over at his old man and narrowed his eyes. The smirk was firmly fixed on his Pops’ face. "She is as far from my type of woman as it gets. My preference for staying dry and undamaged removes her from any consideration."

  His dad taunted, "Big bad SEAL afraid of a five-foot-nothing lady?"

  Gunner gave a humorless laugh before he responded the jibe, "If you remember correctly, this big bad SEAL was taught by his old man to treat a lady with respect. I can't fight back. Which means I am defenseless. She is not an enemy I can defeat. I'm sticking with the 'do not engage under any circumstances' directive.”

  "Hell son, who said anything about engagements?"

  His dad laughed at the middle finger he flipped at him. He was sooo glad his father found this situation funny. That old saying, 'a friend of my enemy is my enemy' would fit here. Just whose side was his dad on? His pops was having a bit too much fun with the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  Chapter 5

  A.J. stood at the far end of the bar. It was Friday night, actually Saturday morning, and the place had once again been packed. Lately, the majority of the new clientele tipped the scales heavily toward the female persuasion. The reason was currently standing behind the bar washing glasses. He'd spent the night working and flirting. The bar had been lined two deep with people, mostly women.

  Silas had explained that Gunner wanted to get involved in the day-to-day operations. He had jumped in with both feet, but instead of taking on a management role right away, as she assumed he would want to do, he'd asked his father to start him at the bottom of the rung. So, he took the place of the barback they'd fired for stealing. A.J. had watched him for the last three weeks. Gunner Kincade was intense and intelligent. He'd worked hard learning everything that August and Tessa, their two full-time bartenders, taught him. He cleaned, mopped, and stayed diligently attentive behind the bar anticipating what the bartenders needed. He held running conversations with everyone who came in the doors. Both bartenders were comfortable with him pulling drafts, mixing simple cocktails and running the till.

  As if a silent pact had been drawn up and signed in blood, A.J. avoided any place that Gunner occupied, and Gunner went out of his way to keep clear of her. She didn’t blame him. God, she was still mortified by the coffee fiasco. It took her days to stop seeing his genitals every time she looked at him. Worse, he knew. Her eyes would slip sideways and she’d blush. He’d respond with a look of disgust that she caught in her peripheral vision.

  Tonight, she was closing. August had an appointment early in the morning with one of his kids, so he'd left as soon as the crowd started to thin. She watched from her perch at the end of the bar. Gunner handled the bar like he'd been doing it for years. Tonight was the first night he'd break down the bar, do inventory and restock by himself. Unfortunately, the nightly task of balancing the drawer against the new drink tally system was non-negotiable. The bar manager always did it. After closing when everyone else had left and they’d locked up, she would count the till out with him—just the two of them. Perhaps if she stayed seated until he left the pub, she'd avoid doing something catastrophic or utterly inept. She peeked at him from under her lashes from time to time, but he ignored her completely as she sat quietly, pretending to work on her tablet.

  He wore a company t-shirt that threatened to shred if the muscles in his arms and chest bulged any further. His beard was fuller now, and she'd seen his unguarded smile a million times as he worked behind the bar. She hated that any chance those smiles would be directed at her was between null and nill. It bothered Silas that they didn't get along. Get along. She mentally snorted. She wouldn't mind being friends with Gunner just so Silas's worries would settle, but every time she closed her eyes, flashes of him ripping that shirt open, or visions of her voyeuristic under-the-towel-episode sprang to mind. Her face heated at the mere thought of his body. In spite of the disastrous repercussions, if she'd been handed a magic wand to wipe out those twenty-four hours, well, she wasn't sure if she would. Gunner Kincade was a little bit like poison. He got under your skin and slowly numbed you to anything else surrounding you. He made her body feel thing
s she shouldn't feel and infected her mind so that he was at the center of the majority of her thoughts. Yeah, he was poison all right, and she'd take it willingly any time he offered. Unfortunately, Gunner had made it perfectly clear that would never happen.

  He'd finished the small amount of work he still had behind the bar and opened the till. He hit the tally button, and the electronic device spit out drinks, inventory usage, and money totals. The electronic system tied into the dispensing machines ensuring accurate pours that were charged correctly. It was one of the first things she'd recommended to Silas after she took over management of the bar.

  Gunner walked his drawer over along with the documentation. An electronic copy would also be sent to the new inventory system that had just been installed so A.J. could disperse the records to the accountant and have them on a moment’s notice if they were ever inspected. He set the drawer down and turned on his heel without a word.

  "When are you going to stop punishing me for making a mistake?" A.J. asked as she arranged the tape he'd brought over.

  A humorless laugh drifted over to her. "A mistake?"

  That question wasn't fair. She lifted her head to look at him and was surprised that he was actually making eye contact with her. "Yes, a mistake. Kicking you in the...kicking you was a mistake. One I apologized for many, many times." She put her pen down. He'd never actually accepted any of her attempted apologies. Something else that bothered her. She'd been raised to forgive those who hurt her if they were truly sorry. She shook her head with a small motion and finished almost to herself, "Everything else was a series of..." she blew a long breath out, "...I don't know, mishaps or unfortunate happenings."

  "Are you always so accident prone?" Gunner leaned against the back of the bar with his arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles, appearing nothing short of masculine perfection. A.J. blinked at him. What had he said? Oh. "No. I guess you bring out that specific trait."

  He cocked his head and stared at her. "Why did you move to Half Moon Bay?"

  Gunner didn't change position, but the tone of his voice changed. It didn't seem as cold. Maybe that was wishful thinking, but it was the most they'd talked to each other since “that” day. "My ex had a problem dealing with the fact that I broke up with him." She lowered her eyes. The bastard had almost killed her before she'd been able to grab a liquor bottle and break it over his head. She'd been able to crawl to the phone and call the cops before he regained consciousness. "He's currently serving fifteen years in the Texas State Penn for attempted murder."

  Gunner’s eyes snapped up to hers. “Wait, he tried to kill you?”

  She nodded. If only that was the end of the story.

  "I'm sorry that happened to you. So, you moved here looking for a fresh start?"

  A.J. glanced at him trying to judge the sincerity of his comment. He hadn't moved, but she couldn't detect any mockery.

  She decided to tell him the truth. "My ex has a checkered past. His near and extended family has been in and out of the state penitentiary for a variety of crimes—assault, armed robbery, and his oldest brother was convicted of stalking. My family and friends warned me not to get involved with him, but…” She chuckled but it wasn’t funny, it was sad. So damn sad. She should have listened, but at the time, she thought she loved Marcus. “After he was arrested, his brothers tried to intimidate me. They never crossed the line that would allow me to charge them for harassment or stalking, but for months his older brothers followed me. They showed up where I was, taunted and threatened me when there were no witnesses. The night they cornered me and suggested I kill myself, so they didn't have to do it, I broke." She glanced over at him and shrugged. "If I stayed, I have no doubt they would have driven me insane or killed me." She wiped at a tear that threatened to fall. "Or they might have gone after my sisters. There were insinuations, never outright threats, but enough that I worried. I knew it was only a matter of time before they did something. So, I loaded up my car, said goodbye to my family and in the dark of night I pulled out of town heading west. I worked my way here. Spent a couple months in five or six different bars working as a bartender. Once as an assistant manager. I managed the largest bar in our town. Well until Marcus tried to kill me there. I lost my job because he was inside the bar after closing. Against company policy. Never mind that he broke in." She shook her head trying to dislodge the thoughts. Taking a firm grip on herself, she continued, "Anyway, I saw the ad your dad put in the paper and answered it. And presto, you have my story in three minutes or less."

  She left out the fact that Marcus’s brothers had shown up at the first two places she’d found work. She didn't look at Gunner, busying herself instead with counting out the drawer. She'd told Silas her story before he'd hired her. If Marcus's family followed her...well, Gunner deserved to know she had a past and it wasn't pretty, but he didn’t need to know everything.

  "Is that the reason you freaked out when I laughed and walked up the stairs?" The closeness of his voice spooked her. She jumped as she swept her eyes up to him.

  She opened her mouth to say yes but couldn't. She shook her head. "I don't know. Do I still look over my shoulder? Yes, but it is getting less frequent. My past still haunts me. Is that the reason I kicked you? I don't honestly know. Maybe is the best answer I can give."

  His dark brown eyes held hers for a long moment before he nodded once and put his hands on the bar on either side of the cash drawer. "If you ever see those bastards, or even think you might have, you let me know. You never have to worry about them again."

  Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would you do that? I figure I'm pretty much nothing to you."

  "It's true we got off on the wrong foot, but you're important to my pops, and you're good for him and the Walrus. All that makes you something to me." Gunner spun and went through the process of locking up the bar. She smiled as she looked down at the cash drawer. It was flimsy, but it felt like an olive branch. She'd take it.

  Chapter 6

  Gunner lengthened his stride as he rounded the curve about a mile from the house. He'd run the circuit he'd mapped out twice today. Things were actually looking up. He was learning his dad's business from the ground up. Sweeping, mopping and cleaning wasn't his idea of taking over a business, but he did know in order to be successful at anything you started with the basics, and there was no way he'd ever walk in assuming he knew how to run the Walrus.

  His feet hit the pavement with the same, steady, consistent stride. The motion and repetition were soothing, and the lack of any cars or hazards on the road allowed him to think. His conversation last night with A.J. was...enlightening. He was simultaneously furious that anyone would lay a hand on her, or any woman, in anger, and happy that she'd been open enough to tell him the truth. The anger at her situation was the reason he'd extended his run this morning. Well, that and the fact she thought she was nothing to him. Fuck, he'd avoided her initially because of the walking disaster mode she'd perpetuated, but over the last three weeks, he'd observed her—from a distance, because his safety was a paramount concern around the woman. It would appear the 'normal' mode for A.J. Ericson was professional, efficient, friendly, and sexy in a confident, understated way. Her clothes weren't too tight or too revealing, yet there was no denying her banging hot body. At work, the woman wore four-inch heels. A smile spread across his face. She was a firecracker and took absolutely zero shit from anyone, customer or staff, yet she was a complete professional. Her dark auburn hair was always pulled back into a thick ponytail, and he'd felt those expressive green eyes track him when they worked the same shifts.

  Somehow, he always knew where she was when she was in the pub. At first, he could chalk it up to self-preservation, but as the days flowed into weeks, he acknowledged it was because she intrigued and attracted him. Which was hard to admit. He did not want to like the woman, but he did. Respected her even. The conversation last night had acted like a fissure to the surface for his repressed emotions, allowing his feelings
to bubble toward the surface. Elements of desire were present. Since the night he walked out of the water and saw her standing by Delmont he’d desired her. His need to protect her from those who had hurt her in the past had also seeped out, and that was dangerous. Desire by itself was something he knew how to handle. He was the self-anointed king of no-strings relationships. Those urges to put her in a safe place and guard the door? That was going to get his ass in some serious trouble.

  He rounded the corner on the final stretch about a half mile from his house and poured out all the energy that he had left, sprinting at a full out run. The world narrowed to his breathing and pace, all thoughts and worries disappeared as the most basic functions took over. A runner's high. He reined in his pace as he passed his house. His lungs and legs burned but in a good way. Walking to normalize his heart and breathing he passed the house A.J. rented and walked down the small access road. He stutter-stepped when he saw her standing on the edge of the beach, but mindful of the new and tenuous truce they'd called, he continued.

  She turned her head when he approached. The shy smile she gave him was new, and he liked it. "Good morning."

  She glanced at her watch. "Good afternoon."

  He chuckled. "I must have run longer than I thought." He put his hands on his hips and considered his next words carefully before he spoke, "Thank you for telling me about your past. I know it couldn't have been easy."

  She shrugged and turned away. "Marcus was one of the worst mistakes of my life."

  Gunner glanced at her. "One of the worst?" He tried for levity, "There's more?"

  She gave a dry laugh and nodded. "Yeah, once upon a time I kicked this guy in the balls. Found out after the fact he was a pretty decent person. It ruined my chances of getting to know him."

  He stood beside her and gazed out on the water, not knowing how to respond to that comment. It was calm and cool today, which was the weather fifty percent of the time in Half Moon Bay. The other fifty percent fog, rain, and even cooler temperatures battled for dominance. In the distance, he saw a boat cutting through the waves of the unprotected water. She turned to go back toward the houses. He stopped her with his words, "You didn't ruin your chances. I'm pretty sure that guy has forgiven you."