Hot SEAL, Charmed
Parker Kincade
Hot SEAL, Charmed
SEALS IN PARADISE
USA Today Bestselling Author
PARKER KINCADE
Copyright © 2021 by Parker Kincade
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Dedication
To Delilah Devlin. Thank you for always having my back. I couldn’t do this without you.
To the SEALs in Paradise authors: Again and always, I am humbled and honored to be among you.
And to Liam. You definitely charmed my pants off.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Note from the Author
More SEALs in Paradise
Excerpt from Hot SEAL, April’s Fool
Prologue
Chapter 1
Excerpt from One Night Stand
Prologue
Chapter 1
About the Author
Also by Parker Kincade
1
“Are you sure about this?”
Liam Jamison glanced over his shoulder to find Ted “Bear” Black filling the doorway to his equipment cage. Unsurprised by the man’s presence, as well as the inquiry, Liam finished stowing his gear and dropped the lid to his footlocker. He could feign ignorance, but Liam’s days were numbered, and they both knew it. Hell, the whole team knew it. He hadn’t kept his decision to separate from the Navy a secret. He’d been contemplating the move for a year now.
“It’s a little late for that question, don’t you think?” Liam had anticipated this conversation. Color him surprised that Bear had waited to approach him until two weeks after the paperwork had been signed. Regardless of Liam’s changeable feelings on the matter, that particular ship had sailed the moment the ink marred the paper. His career as a Navy SEAL had reached its end.
Bear eyeballed him with the steady confidence of a man used to being in charge. “Are you sure?”
Liam knew his team leader’s don’t fuck with me tone well enough to keep his smart mouth in check. He went with the only answer he had. “As sure as I can be.” Which, in this moment, meant not sure at all. Liam wouldn’t toss that shit on Bear, though. Ask him again in an hour—hell, in ten minutes—and chances were excellent his level of surety would be different.
Quitter’s remorse. A real gut-wrenching, mind fuck of a thing.
Bear’s expression didn’t change. The guy didn’t speak. He didn’t so much as move a muscle. He stood, rock-steady and vigilant, and waited.
Less than a minute later, Liam sighed, the weight of the decision so heavy he couldn’t stop his shoulders from sinking the slightest bit.
The guys on the team were his family, his brothers. They might not agree with his choice, but they respected the move he’d made. Were even goddamn supportive, the bastards. If they’d been anything but, Liam could at least blame them for the acid churning in his gut. As it was, the guilt Liam felt for abandoning them was all his.
If it had been anyone else in front of him, Liam would’ve plastered on his trademark grin and turned the conversation in a different direction. But Bear had been there for him, for all of them, in their darkest hour. He wouldn’t disrespect the man by being untruthful now.
“Being a SEAL is the only thing I know how to do.” Aside from slinging drinks, a talent he’d acquired growing up in his family’s Irish pub—Tavern J—in Boston. “I don’t know how to be anything else, but after Ozzie…” Liam clenched his teeth as the images of that day played like some kind of distorted horror movie in his head.
Ozzie Westall had had it all. A loving, devoted wife. A son. A job he’d loved and was damn good at doing. Oz had represented the best of them. He’d been a larger than life, balls-to-the-wall kind of guy who hadn’t done anything halfway. And he’d died the same way he had lived—all out. Guns blazing, protecting his team, his country, while fighting for another country desperate to be free of tyranny.
Liam fought against the agonizing memory of that day. One moment Ozzie had been there, fighting shoulder to shoulder with them Afghanistan. The next, Ozzie was just…gone. Killed in action, leaving his wife Andi devastated. His son Jeremy, fatherless. His team without their brother.
Liam loved being a SEAL. He didn’t want to leave the teams, but losing Ozzie had done a number on him. Looking out for Andi and Jeremy this last year had been his honor, but it had also given Liam a front row seat to the grief, the carnage left behind when a teammate is killed.
Every tear Andi and Jeremy shed created a wound, deep inside Liam’s chest. Every anguishing sob had him re-prioritizing his life. Liam hadn’t been interested in settling down in the past, but he wasn’t getting any younger. At thirty-two, he felt the tug of his Irish heritage to put down roots. To get married and have a few kids—hopefully one or more, who would carry on the Jamison name. He wouldn’t risk putting his future wife and kids through what Andi and Jeremy had gone through—were still going through. So, when the time for him to re-up had circled around, he’d done what he had to do.
A heavy, comforting hand squeezed his shoulder, snapping Liam out of his thoughts. “Losing a teammate is one of the hardest things a person in our profession can endure. We lost Ozzie, but we will not lose you.” Tone rife with determination, Bear went on. “Whatever happens next, we are your brothers. You need anything, at any time, you reach out. We’ve got your back. Got it?”
Liam choked back the emotion itching his throat. “Got it.”
Seemingly satisfied, Bear released him and took a step back. “What will you do? Will you head back to Boston?”
“I honestly don’t know where I’ll end up.” His preliminary job searches hadn’t resulted much in the way of prospects. “My specific skillset doesn’t seem to translate well to the outside world.”
“Your service record is impeccable. Coupled with that inhuman IQ of yours, you should be able to do whatever you want.”
“If only I’d gone to college instead of joining the Navy,” Liam mused. “Most companies want proof of intellect by way of a degree.” Liam had no interest in correcting his lack thereof. Sure, he’d maintained a perfect GPA in high school, in spite of his non-existent study habits, but school had done little more than bore him to death. If it hadn’t been for football—and the cheerleaders who hadn’t minded passing him around—he might’ve gone legit bonkers.
Nope. No way. Liam could think of plenty of other things he’d rather do than go to college. Not even the prospect of screwing college cheerleaders could entice him. His one-nighters were ending with his SEAL career. New leaf, and all that.
“Private security might be the way to go,” Bear said. “If you want to stick around, California has no shortage of rich and famous who would pay good money to hire a guy with your qualifications. I have a few contacts. I could—”
Liam held up his hands. “Whoa. Slow down. I appreciate the input. At some point, I might even take you up on those contacts, but for right now, I just want to…I don’t know…take some time off? Figure out what life is like on the other side? I feel like I haven’t slept in fourteen years.” Since the day he’d joine
d the military.
“We still have you for a couple of days yet, so don’t think you’re gonna turn lazy on us.” Bear reached out. “And as for the rest, you’ll let us know where you land…? Keep us in the loop?”
Liam grabbed Bear’s hand and pulled him in for a back-slapping man hug. “I’ll do it. And don’t worry so much. I’m Liam “Lucky” Jamison, remember?” Liam forced a grin at the despised nickname. “Charmed since in utero.” According to his mother, a coin, and a pot of Colcannon. “Everything will be fine.”
He’d made the right decision.
He had.
Liam’s cell phone rang as he exited the compound and broke into a jog. Over an hour late to meet the guys at McP’s, Liam couldn’t believe it had taken his friends so long to call to hurry him the fuck up. Certain of the grief about to assault his ears, Liam didn’t bother to check the caller ID before he answered. “Keep your panties on. I’m on the way.”
The offended feminine gasp on the other end of the call stopped him in his tracks. Shit. Liam closed his eyes and turned his face skyward, praying he hadn’t just demanded what amounted to chill the fuck out to his mother. He’d been raised better than to tell his mom what to do with her panties. Or even mention her panties. Or think about her wearing pant…God, Liam revised his prayer, kill me now.
He drew in a breath, preparing to check the screen when the woman saved him the trouble.
“My undies are firmly in place, thank you.” The haughty words conflicted with the humor in her tone.
“Haven.” Relief deflated Liam’s chest. He couldn’t have kept the grin from his face if he tried, which he didn’t. The warmth of her Irish accent caused a burst of genuine affection to hit the center his chest. As his oldest friend, Haven Somers ranked as one of the three women who meant anything to him—the other two being his mom, and his older sister, Sasha.
Liam had met Haven on St. Patrick’s Day, during an extended spring break family vacation when he was twelve. He suspected the trip was an excuse for his dad to visit every Irish pub in the country, which had suited Liam fine. As a pre-teen, he’d thought it was cool as hell that he could legally hang out in a bar even if his parents had to be there with him. He’d earned some serious street cred with his buddies back in Boston afterward, that’s for sure. But the best thing to come out of that vacation wasn’t the bragging rights from his adolescent pub crawl.
It was Haven.
Arriving on St. Patrick’s Day for what was meant to be a quick overnight stay in Killarney, his family had gone into O’Somachain’s, a local pub known for being one of the oldest in the area. Within seconds of walking through the door, Liam had come face-to-face with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Welcome to O’Somachain’s,” she’d said. “That means Somers, which is our family name. I’m Haven and I’m eleven. My family has owned this pub for generations.” Liam could still hear the pride in her voice. And he could still see the way her gaze had quickly narrowed, as if sizing him up before she’d asked, “Wanna play a game o’ darts?”
Liam had never played before, but he damn sure hadn’t turned down the opportunity to add playing darts with a girl, in a pub to his reputation.
They’d played for hours while the adults sang, told stories, and celebrated ole St. Patty. Their parents had gotten along so well, Liam’s dad decided they would spend the rest of their vacation in Killarney. For the two weeks, his family stayed, and Liam and Haven had been inseparable.
Not frilly and prissy like the girls back home, Haven had been a breath of fresh air his almost-teenaged lungs hadn’t known they’d needed. She’d filled each day with Irish outdoor adventure. She’d showed him all the best places to hike and fish. They’d roamed the countryside—on foot, on bicycles, and on horseback. They’d kayaked the surrounding lakes.
Their families had eaten dinner together at the pub each night. After the food had disappeared and the pints flowed freely among the adults, Haven had taught him the finer points of playing darts, while he’d taught her how to swear like an American. On one particular night after the pub had closed, Haven had demonstrated and taught him the art of pulling a proper Guinness from the tap, a skill he still used to that day.
Liam hadn’t known it then, but that stop in Killarney would lead him into a going-on-twenty-year friendship with the coolest chick he’d ever met. His friendship with Haven wasn’t traditional in any sense of the word. He hadn’t actually seen her in person since that vacation when they were kids. They’d had to put in the effort to stay in touch. E-mails, phone calls, video calls, text messages. He’d taken on extra chores and washed more dishes at the Tavern J than he wanted to think about in order to afford the international cell plan his parents had allowed him to have. Even so, keeping her in his life had never felt like work.
Haven wouldn’t expect or require an apology, but he offered one anyway. “Sorry about that. I thought you were one of the guys.”
“The guys, huh? Now, I’m curious. Do a lot of men in America wear panties? Wait.” Haven groaned. “Don’t tell me. The mental image would ruin every one of my American superhero fantasies.”
Liam resumed the trek toward his vehicle, his pace much slower than before. “I do not need to hear about that. Please keep the dirty details of your men-wearing-spandex fetish to yourself.”
Thinking about Haven and sex, or Haven having sex, somehow made him mental. It wasn’t so much the actual act he objected to—Haven was a grown woman. She could do whatever, or whoever she wanted. His issue came from the knowledge that when Haven had sex with a guy, that guy then had the power to hurt her.
He’d never felt the miles between them more acutely than during those few times her heart had been broken. Her tears, the distance keeping him from pummeling the asshole who’d caused them…those were the things he objected the hell out of.
“Change of subject, then,” she declared firmly through her laughter. “You said you were on the way somewhere. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“It’s never a bad time for you. You know that.”
She hummed. “Unless you’re in super-secret agent mode.”
Liam nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Super-secret SEAL mode. But yeah. Okay. There is that.”
Haven might tease about his job, but he knew she worried. He kept in touch with her as much as possible when he was deployed. Which usually meant a text or phone call before he left and a text or phone call to let her know he was alive upon returning.
“Or if you’re in the shower,” she continued.
“Not impossible, but also not an ideal time. Agreed.”
“Or if you’re taking a—”
“Annnd game over,” he declared, louder than necessary. He knew her well enough to know that sentence was headed nowhere he wanted to go. He needed another redirect, fast. “Let’s start again, shall we?” He cleared his throat. “Hello? Haven! Oh my God! I was just thinking about you. How’s my favorite girl?”
“Oh, please.” Her delicate snort teased his ear. “You know that shite doesn’t work on me. Save it for your next one-night stand. Your charm is wasted here.”
“Ahh, there’s my sassy wee Irish pixie.” His Irish accent needed work, but he got the result he intended when Haven erupted with laughter. Liam rubbed the center of his chest, her voice easing the heaviness that had plagued him there for the last month.
Not for the first time, he wished he’d been able to talk to Haven about his decision to leave the Navy. The perfect opportunity had presented itself when he’d called to check in a couple of weeks ago after returning from a quick mission to Afghanistan. When he’d tried to broach the subject, his throat had just … closed up.
Haven had been his biggest supporter when he’d decided to join in the first place. And she’d all but burst with excitement when he’d made it through BUD/S and joined the SEALs. Liam didn’t want to let her down. He could handle a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with Haven’s disappointm
ent when she learned he’d quit. Not while his future was so uncertain.
“Since you told me to keep my panties on, I guess you’re not goin’ to meet a date.”
“You know me so well,” he mused. Probably too well. “I’m meeting the guys at McP’s. I’m still on base though. Heading to my truck, in fact, so I’ve got time to talk. What’s on your mind, pix?”
“Ah, the infamous McP’s Irish Pub. Where pints and panties go to die. Big night planned then?”
Liam laughed. As a known hangout for the Navy SEALs stationed in Coronado, McP’s crowd always included a variety of women looking to bag a SEAL for a night. He would know, since he’d partaken in his fair share over the years. “Nah, not tonight, unfortunately. Dinner and drinks. A few hours, max. It’s a school night.” A thought occurred, and he checked his watch. After so many years of doing the math, Liam automatically recognized that it was one in the morning in Ireland. Well past closing time.
“Are you bein’ called out again?” She sounded panicked.
“Not yet.” Not ever again. “I still have to report for work, pix, just like always. What’s going on with you?”
“You said you’d take me to McP’s once, remember?”
Liam slowed his pace even more, confused by her wistful tone. Something wasn’t right. “And I will,” he said slowly. “If you ever get your butt to the US.” She’d better hurry, though. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be in Coronado. A few weeks from now, he could be anywhere, doing God only knew what. Not that she knew that. Damn it. “Are you all right, Haven?”
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