Still Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 10)

by Anne Marsh

  One that’s absolutely, entirely not my business. She doesn’t get to use me for my problem-solving skills. I don’t get to fantasize about happily ever after and growing old with this woman. It’s a fair exchange. We’re done with each other. Finito. Entirely, one hundred percent over.

  Okay. Ninety-eight percent.

  Or maybe just ninety. I need to leave myself a little wiggle room.

  “Money? It gonna be a problem?” Finn jogs me with his elbow.

  “Not worried about the money,” I say slowly, although I probably should be. Hindi didn’t come down here to clean me out—and it’s not like I’d touch her stuff. She earned it. She keeps it. Pretty simple in my book, and I don’t care if that makes me fucking traditional. It is what it is.

  “No insta-dissolution?” Finn practically bounces in his seat. Yeah, he’s had himself an idea. “Maybe you should try Vegas.”

  I take us out onto the highway. “Because you think they have drive-through divorce courts right after the drive-through wedding chapels?”

  Finn flattens his hand on my dashboard. Thank God. “You think Vali might go for that?”

  Vali’s more a ‘til-death-do-us-part gal—and it would be Finn’s death that would put an end to their marriage. If he ever so much as thinks of straying, leaving, or calling it quits on what they have, she’d disembowel him with a rusty spoon. Probably upgrade to a shovel or a fucking backhoe because she doesn’t do shit by halves. I don’t point this out, however. I go with the obvious.

  “You have to finish getting married before you can get divorced.”

  Finn flips me the bird. “I’m aware of that. But maybe we could take off and get married in Vegas. Get hitched by Elvis or something fun.”

  He shivers like a wet dog and Jack whines in sympathy, dropping his drooled-on bone into Finn’s lap as a consolation prize. I don’t even want to try imagining what wedding planning is like. If you’re gonna do it, Hindi and I did it right. No fuss—just swapped I dos without an audience or a whole lot of trappings. But we hadn’t discussed families. Hell, I still haven’t met Hindi’s parents. I know they exist and that they swap Christmas cards, but they’re a big blank on the Alvarez-MacCarthy family tree.

  Vali’s family, however, has been all over Angel Cay. They love Vali to pieces and she feels the same about them. There is absolutely no way Finn spirits Vali away for a secret quickie wedding. Vali would refuse, and if she didn’t, her Cuban-American, been-planning-the-wedding-since-Vali-was-five mother would have plenty to say about sacrificing her dream wedding for Elvis in Vegas.

  “Aren’t the wedding plans almost complete?” Not that I really want to know, but Finn’s my boy.

  He slumps back in his seat. “Yeah. Rocket’s on the launch pad. I think Vali’s mailing invitations this week.”

  Finn’s lack of attention to the details is slightly appalling. On the other hand, he’d do anything for Vali and maybe he’s just reduced this whole wedding to the essentials. Vali tells him where and when and he’s there.

  “You sure about the divorce?” Finn props his legs up on the dashboard in a piece of brilliant fucking gymnastics. Man practically has to contort himself into a pretzel, but mission accomplished.

  “We’ve been separated for six years,” I reply dryly. “And she did serve me with papers, even if her follow-through sucks. That’s not a recipe for true love right there.”

  Finn groans. “But getting married is so much damned work and you thought she was the one.”

  I can practically hear the capital letters. “I’m too old for her.”

  Finn whistles, a sound that approximates the whine of an incoming missile. He follows it up with a smack on the dashboard and explosion noises. Nice to know I can keep him amused.

  “I’ve got way too many years on her.”

  “You can’t get it up.” Finn slumps back in his seat in disappointment. “Got it.”

  Without taking my eyes off the road, I reach out and smack the back of his head. “Nothing wrong with my dick, but thanks for caring.”

  Finn groans. “Let’s not discuss your dick in any detail, ‘kay?”

  He’s the one who brought it up, but I agree wholeheartedly. Some shit just needs to stay private. “I’m thirty-eight. She’s twenty-eight.”

  “I know this answer!” Finn shimmies in his seat. I have no clue where the guy gets his energy. “Ten! The answer is ten!”

  “Which means I’m on the dark side of thirty, rushing toward forty,” I point out. “And she’s just getting started. We rushed into marriage when she was practically a baby.”

  “Cradle snatcher,” Finn says, his face twisted in mock disgust. “My moral values are way higher. Can’t believe we’re friends.”

  “You’d believe anything.” Not far from the fucking truth anyhow. Finn’s too laidback to get pissed, but I don’t feed my team bullshit or lines. You gotta be able to trust your guys when you’re out there in the field. Fuck. Not like I want to distrust any of them when I come home, either, which is probably why this mess with Hindi burns so badly. She was my girl and I was her guy, but guess we should have spelled out what that means.

  “Maybe you should talk shit out with her,” Finn suggests. “Because you’ve got history together. That stuff matters. Not so sure you’re gonna go on your way happy if you just get a divorce as quick as you can.”

  “I’m not sure the fine state of Florida does anything quickly.” Hindi filed in New York the first time. Maybe we should go back there? I put that shit on my mental to do list. I’ll get to it when I get to it. Right now, it feels right to just let the fuck go. Truth is, I am on the far side of thirty, and I feel it. Not so much in my body—thank Jesus all my parts, including my dick, still work—but somewhere in my head. My heart. Not the fucking organ, but it’s the emotional stuff. Most days, it feels like I’m camped out in the middle of an iceberg and that’s wrong. Way too screwed up that I’m hanging back, watching life, but not ready to jump in. I’m one big ice cube bobbing up and down on the waves, and I’ll probably collide with Greenland at some point and that will be that.

  Except that when I’m around Hindi, I’m not cold.

  I’m on fire.

  But that’s just lust. She’s hot and I’m not blind. I’m just admiring the really great view.

  “You think she dated while we were split up?” I ask because, yeah, I’ve wondered about it. She’s hot as fuck and so full of life. What guy wouldn’t want to do her? Chastity would require a major miracle, and we both believed we were divorced. Free to go about our business with whomever we wanted.

  Finn snorts. “Fuck if I know.”

  “Yeah.” Cover a whole lot of territory with that word, too. Guess I could Google her, see what I could find out. As a reality TV star, I’m betting her dating life is fair game. Hell, that one time I visited her in New York, my face—and my ass—ended up plastered across more than one site. It doesn’t feel right, though, checking up on her. We’d said our goodbyes, and she’d have got on with her life. Not like I wanted her alone and hurting.

  When I look at her now, I just see my Hindi. Don’t see those missing years and damned sure don’t want to fill in the blanks. As far as my dick is concerned, time hasn’t passed at all. My head has moved on, but my dick is planted in the past. Rest of me, though? Being career military leaves a mark. My body has scars on it, inside and out, and while I earned them serving my country, I don’t look like an underwear model. Not sure how I’m gonna stack up against Hindi’s usual crowd. Woman fucking designs underwear, so she’s seen a lot of banging bodies. I know what to do with what I’ve got, but I’m no pretty boy. Nor am I interested in the dating game or stripping down in front of a new woman.

  Fuck.

  When did I get so old?

  “None of my business what she did or didn’t do,” I say finally, because I can just tell that Finn’s itching to say something. We’ve got another twenty miles before I can ditch his ass at his front door or Vali’s. Jack curl
s up behind us, enjoying the backseat. I don’t begrudge him. He’s earned it.

  Finn actually takes a minute to respond. Must be working through one hell of an answer. “Think that’s the best idea,” he says slowly. “I mean, she thought the two of you were over. Not like she was cheating on you if she did see other people.”

  Fuck, but I’m tired. “Water under the bridge.”

  Finn nods. “So only question now is whether you want a retread. Because she’s hot, she’s here, and it sure as fuck seems like she’s still under your skin.”

  Hindi is somewhere, that’s for sure.

  “Are you suggesting I do my ex-wife?”

  “Not like she’s actually your ex, right? You’ve got some time before everything’s official?”

  “You think she’s gonna want to play house with me while we wait for our dissolution?”

  Finn blows out a breath slowly. “Noooo. But I think you should look at the possibilities. You’ve got some time to kill, and it sounds like you’ve also got some unfinished business of the non-paperwork variety.”

  “Are you Ms. Lonely Heart now?” I snap. “Last I checked, you’ve had exactly one serious relationship, and I know for a fact that you did just about everything you could to screw it up.”

  Finn may have met Vali when he pulled her out of a ditch (which was guaranteed to win him points in the heroic rescue department), but she hadn’t recognized the long-term potential in him for ages. She’d once told him that he was like a loaner car—beat up, dinged and dented from serial bad drivers, and easy to share with girlfriends. Yeah. It took him a long time to dig himself out from that one, and then he’d compounded his mistake by agreeing to pose as Vali’s fiancé. It’s hard to go from fake to real. Ask me how I know.

  Finn beats out another symphony on my dashboard. “How long’s it gonna take?”

  If the ball is in Hindi’s court, the divorce ought to happen about when I turn eighty. “If we both show up on time and sign shit at the first available opportunity? Three months from start to finish. If we find shit to fight about, could be as long as a year.”

  “So spend some time with her, have sex if you’re both feeling it.”

  “We’re getting a divorce, not dating. Both words begin with the letter D, but they’re different end games.” I keep the dumb ass to myself as I turn off the highway and down the private road that connects Search and SEALs’ private island with the rest of the Florida Keys. Finn’s vocabulary isn’t the real issue here.

  “I know.” Finn leans forward, staring out the windshield like he’s expecting the Promised Land to come into view. Must be expecting Vali at his place tonight, lucky bastard. Vali’s a good woman. “But I can’t remember the last time you hooked up with anyone.”

  “I didn’t realize you were in charge of my sex life.” I consider slowing down just to fuck with him, but I get his eagerness. He’s got everything waiting for him at his place—why shouldn’t he want to get there fast?

  “Sex is awesome.” Yeah. The big grin splitting Finn’s face is plenty of testimony. “You should try it. Put out some and loosen up.”

  “Some of us don’t think with our dicks.” Okay. I don’t. That apparently makes me a minority of one, because Finn snorts.

  “You’ve got unfinished business. I can sense it.”

  So what if the attraction’s still there? I need to stay the hell away from Hindi Alvarez. Which is, of course, exactly why I told her she was in charge of our divorce. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson from her first attempt at breaking up with me.

  I stop the Jeep in front of Finn’s place. The lights are on in his bungalow, and doughnuts to dollars, Vali’s waiting for him. And it’s not that I’m jonesing to be married or quite as settled as Finn and Vali are, but they’ve got something and I’m not such a closed-off dick that I can’t admit it. They fit together, and more importantly, their lives fit together. When he walks through that door, he’s got someone waiting for him and Vali’s really fucking special. No rescue in the world could beat that feeling. I mean, I love my job and together we make the best team… but there’s got to be more to life. Someone more.

  Finn’s found someone to rescue him from loneliness, and I’m jealous. Yeah. Not a nice feeling to own up to, but it’s the truth. Finn deserves every moment he gets with Vali, but I’d like a shot at that too. Someone to rescue me. To fill the emptiness and make me feel alive. And that’s a tall order, not one I can just waltz up to the next woman I meet and place. I mean, I’m like that guy, the one who phones in a Chinese take-out order large enough to feed an entire SEAL team (and we have big appetites) and then wants the delivery boy to somehow fit all those cartons and bags in the teeny-tiny milk crate strapped to the back of the delivery Vespa. Some shit’s gonna get left behind or fall off on the way. I’m asking for way too much.

  And while I’m riding the bad metaphor train, Hindi and I were the right order at the wrong time or place. Chow mein at breakfast or stone-cold egg foo yong. The potential for an awesome, kick-ass meal was there, but we got the timing all wrong and ended up in the trash—and I kinda want a do-over.

  I’m not going to say I want a second chance—more like a second moment. Another night. Just a few more minutes with the two of us naked before we split for good and head in different directions. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, but Hindi’s gonna take some convincing. She’s the one leading the charge on the divorce front, so any counter-charge I make needs to be well thought out.

  Yeah. I got that handled. I’m the king of planning, the guy who makes Sherlock Holmes look like a disorganized, impulsive schmuck. Plus, the lovely state of Florida is on my side—we’ve got weeks and weeks before we can pull off any divorce.

  “I’m gonna make a plan,” I tell Finn.

  “Sex plan?” Humor lights his eyes, the bastard.

  “Do you kiss and tell?” I know he doesn’t—and not just because, as discussed, Vali would disembowel him with the nearest sharp object. He loves her and their business is just that—theirs. Still, he hums, whistles, and generally smiles like a happy loon after he and Vali have shared some quality time together. A really happy, getting-some, just-got-laid loon. Yes. I’m jealous.

  Finn slaps me on the back as he opens the door. “Good point. Kick ass, man. I’m rooting for you, but you don’t need to share the details, ‘kay?”

  “None of your business anyhow.”

  Finn grins and slams the door. “Gotcha. If you need sex tips because you’re so goddamned rusty, I highly recommend Cosmo. Sure, it’s a chick thing, but it’s the best enemy intel you’ll find. Girls talk about anything. Downright scary. Plus, they’re all convinced a guy can’t find a clit without a diagram and written instructions. You got any questions, that magazine will answer them and then some.”

  “Vali been complaining?” I call after him.

  Finn just waves and disappears inside his bungalow. Yeah. I can practically hear clothing start hitting the ground. I put the Jeep in drive and cover the two hundred yards to my own bungalow. There are no lights on at my place, and I’m damned certain I have no one waiting for me. That’s going to change.

  I park and go inside, already planning.

  Hindi Alvarez is my new personal mission. We’re going to date. To spend quality time together. Talk. And then we’ll have sex. Hot, dirty, sweet, nasty, intimate sex. Yes, I fucking Google the dating part and I may spend way too much time on the Cosmo site. I need all the intel I can get. You just need to remember one thing.

  This isn’t love. It absolutely, positively isn’t.

  It’s good old-fashioned lust—with a side of… something.

  Yeah. I hear me, too. It’s that something that’s gonna bite me on the ass and make me beg for more.

  Rohan

  By the time I pull up outside Hindi’s rented bungalow the next day, I’m second-guessing the plan. My track record with relationships is shit, so today is not a sure thing. I am not the king of seduction, because
I’ve never spent time convincing a woman to go to bed with me if she wasn’t all in. The way I see it, however, Hindi and I haven’t spent much time together. We had a week on Angel Cay, and we spent most of that time fighting or fucking. And while getting her naked still tops my to do list, we need to get to know each other. Again? For the first time? Not sure which it is, but Finn’s right. Why not take advantage of our time together now? Not like it’s a second chance, but it’s something.

  Nerves provide a kick of adrenaline, making my stomach churn. Should have popped a Tums. In the military, the instructors like to talk about tactical breathing. Breathe right and you can race into a burning building, take down an armed opponent, or stay calm in close combat. It’s like a fucking magic trick. I breathe in through my nose. One two three four. Hold it. One two three four. Push the air out my mouth. One two three four. Hold it.

  Like insta-Valium, right?

  Yeah. No such luck, but I head up Hindi’s walk and knock on her front door anyhow. And then I stand there. Waiting. Usually, I’m really, really good at waiting. Once again, it’s a skill set I’ve acquired courtesy of Uncle Sam. Today, however, I’m impatient to put my plan into motion.

  Lilah pops out of nowhere, camera in hand. “Hey, pretty boy,” she croons.

  Yeah, I turn and look behind me. Wouldn’t you?

  She laughs and snaps my picture. I frown, so naturally she fucking does it again. It’s like she lives in opposite land, where all the normal kindergarten rules don’t apply. She doesn’t use her words, doesn’t say please and thank you, and doesn’t share her toys. Nope. She snaps and hugs the ten-thousand-dollar piece of hardware closer, just in case I decide to snatch it out of her hands and make a permanent statement about my dislike of unauthorized photography. She’s not stupid.

  “Pretty sure you need my permission to use those,” I point out. Hindi’s not answering the door, so I knock again, a little harder.

  “Public space,” she rejoins. “No expectation of privacy.”

  “Bigger and stronger,” I counter. “Expect to lose your camera.”