Hot SEAL, Cold Feet
SEALs in Paradise
Becca Jameson
Copyright © 2020 by Becca Jameson
Cover Artist: Elle James
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Newsletter
Acknowledgments
About the Book
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Also by Becca Jameson
About the Author
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Acknowledgments
I'd like to thank Cat Johnson for the use of her heroes from Hot SEAL, Dirty Martini, Hot SEAL, Tijuana Nights, and Hot SEAL, Runaway Bride. It was kind of Clay, Zack, and Nick to stop by McP's and help my hero out! It was also kind of her bartender, Ray, to keep obnoxious fans at bay while they guys met on the back patio.
About the Book
He’s a former Navy SEAL in financial straits.
* * *
She’s a bar owner in need of a bouncer.
* * *
Perfect, right? Hardly.
* * *
When Jodi finds out her new bouncer is none other than Tucker, the man currently starring on a reality television show, she isn’t happy. She doesn’t want the publicity. Plus, she thinks he’s a fool. Who marries a stranger on television for money?
* * *
Tucker isn’t happy either. He’s in over his head in a farce of a marriage, but he needs the money the network is paying him. It’s nobody’s business why he’s working a night job in a bar at the same time.
* * *
Too bad the heat between them is incendiary. Hooking up is a huge mistake for them both, but some risks are worth it...
Chapter 1
“You cannot actually be serious.”
Tuck turned his head toward the woman standing several yards behind him, her hands on her hips, head cocked to one side, eyes narrowed. She would’ve looked seriously pissed if it weren’t for the fact that the corners of her mouth were lifted in a disbelieving smirk.
She was definitely fierce though. Not the sort of woman who backed down from a challenge. Her dark eyes were a deep piercing brown that said “don’t fuck with me.” He doubted many people did. She was wearing tightly fitted jeans that hugged her body and showed every curve from the waist down.
If she turned around, he had no doubt he would be graced with the view of a very fine ass. He couldn’t say for sure what her chest might look like, however, since she had on a loose-fitting, black T-shirt with a royal blue bar logo in the corner. Bridgman’s Bar to be exact. The one Tuck was currently standing in. The one where he was getting the lay of the land from his new boss, Bill Bridgman.
“Jodi,” Bill hissed. “What the hell?” He threw his hands up in frustration.
Jodi tipped her head back, giving Tuck a view of her long neck. Her hair, a mess of dark brown curls, was piled up in a messy clip on top of her head, but several locks popped free as she laughed sardonically toward the ceiling before lowering her gaze. She glanced at Bill first, rolling her eyes, before shifting her gaze toward Tuck. “Dad. Seriously. Please tell me this is not the new bouncer you hired.”
Tuck flinched at the way she said “bouncer” as if it were a dirty word reserved for flunkies who happened to be graced with large bodies and strength. He was graced with an above average frame and he was physically in better shape than most humans, but he certainly was no high school dropout. He was a Navy SEAL for God’s sake. Or he had been.
“Jodi,” Bill stated sharply, louder this time. “What’s gotten into you? I told you we were hiring a new security specialist. I even told you he would be here this afternoon to tour the bar. I’ve never seen you so inhospitable.” Bill was in his early sixties. He had a full head of white hair cut short and a clean shave.
Jodi shot her father another annoyed look. “Yep. You told me you were hiring a bouncer. One we can barely afford, mind you. You did not, however, mention it would be Tucker Lawler. Do you have any idea who this is?”
Well, fuck me, Tuck thought, stiffening. He’d been lying low for the last few weeks, applying for local jobs from inside his apartment slash prison cell—at least that’s what it felt like most days. He had not ventured out much, so until now, he couldn’t be sure if many people would recognize him. Apparently so. At this point, it would seem he was one for two. And it shouldn’t surprise him that Jodi recognized him while her father did not.
In any case, he didn’t like the way she was dismissing him as if he were nothing more than dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. He half expected her to shake off her tennis shoe and shudder, backing up a pace. He wanted to tell her to mind her own business and fuck off, but he bit his tongue instead. He needed this job. If she blew it for him with her judgmental attitude, he was going to be seriously pissed.
He gritted his teeth, trying to decide how he wanted to handle this situation.
Before he could think how to explain his predicament to Bill, Jodi continued, her head still cocked toward her father. “Tucker here is on that ridiculous reality television show filmed at that beach house. You know the one, Dad. Cold Feet.”
Bill shook his head. “Never heard of it.” He glanced toward Tuck, one half of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Is that true? You one of those Hollywood stars trying to get your big break?”
Tuck shook his head. “No, Sir. Not even close. I—”
He didn’t get to finish that sentence because Jodi interrupted. “He married this crazy, whiny woman on the show, Dad. And now he’s raking in the money because social media is eating this up. They even extended the stupid show to continue following his train wreck of a marriage to the star of the show, Katia. I’m not sure which one of them is more deranged.” She shifted her gaze to Tuck, tipping her head down again and staring at him, challenging him to refute her explanation.
He couldn’t, of course. For one thing, he was under contract with the network. For another thing, nothing Jodi had stated was inaccurate. Oh, wait, except the part about him raking in money. If he were, he wouldn’t be standing here today trying to get a job he desperately needed doing something he was far overqualified to do.
Bill slapped his hand on his thigh and chuckled, apparently amused. “Well, I’ll be. We’ve got us a star working here.” He sobered slightly as his eyes drew closer. “Your show gonna affect your work here, son?”
“No, sir.” Tuck was bewildered by the man’s apparent lack of concern where it came
to Cold Feet. “Contrary to your daughter’s belief, I’m not making a significant amount of money to appear on the show, and I need this job.” He shot her a glare this time, daring her to continue arguing.
Too bad she was so cute. Jodi Bridgman was the kind of woman who hid her beauty under baggy T-shirts and a sharp tongue. Even though she was probably breathtaking when she let her hair down and lost the chip on her shoulder, he doubted many people had ever seen that side of her.
There were a few seconds of silence, during which Tuck feared Bill might change his mind and send Tuck out the door, and then Bill’s phone buzzed in his pocket and the older man extracted it, fumbling for a moment to swipe the screen. “I need to take this,” he apologized. As he stepped away, heading toward the door Jodi had presumably come from, he looked at his daughter. “Please continue showing Tucker around the bar. He starts tonight.”
Great. Just great.
Jodi sighed, her shoulders falling. “So which is it then?”
“Which is what?” Tuck braced himself for whatever she was going to say next, knowing it was going to be good.
“Either you’re certifiable for being on that show, or you’re making a shit ton of money doing it. It has to be one or the other. Neither explains what you’re doing here in my family’s bar looking for work. We’re barely holding our heads above water here, and you look expensive.” She grazed her eyes up and down his body. The only thing she did not do was cross her arms.
What the fuck did she mean when she said he looked expensive? Tuck met her gaze. “Honestly, Ms. Bridgman, it’s none of your business how much money I make or why I want this job. If you really intend to judge me from what you’ve seen on television or read on social media, I can’t stop you. Or…you could set aside your preconceived notions and look at the facts.”
She continued to stare at him. “And what would those facts be?”
“I’m a Navy SEAL who served two tours. I was based near here in Coronado. One of my specialties was infiltrating behind the enemy lines to ensure who my target was before taking him out. You,” he pointed at her in particular, “have a serious problem that could cause you to lose this bar. You need to find out who’s dealing under the table here. I’m the man for the job. But if you’re so worried about what I do off the clock, I’ll leave now.”
Several seconds ticked by before Jodi inhaled long and slow. “I don’t want to trade one problem for another. You can’t bring cameras in here. This is my family’s bar. I won’t have it become part of some ridiculous reality TV show.”
Tuck decided it was his turn to narrow his eyes at her. “For someone who thinks Cold Feet is the dumbest show ever to air on television, you sure do know a lot about it. Were you watching the latest episode in the back before I got here, or do you enjoy the livestream from my apartment?” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, shit. That’s right. The livestreaming isn’t very interesting right now since I’m currently here.”
Suddenly, Jodi’s entire demeanor changed. She grinned, and then she started laughing. When she finally managed to pull herself back together, she asked, “Are you at least going to explain to me why a chiseled, sexy hunk of man who recently left the SEALs with brains and wit is starring as the groom on a stupid reality show?”
He jerked back a few inches. Shocked. It took him a moment to respond. The hard-nosed woman who’d entered this room with her fists raised to fight him was now soft and teasing and cute. The dimples on her cheeks made her seem almost human. Her eyes were dancing with humor.
Another lock of curls fell across her cheek, and he watched as she tried futilely to tuck the hair behind her ear. Part of him was mesmerized by her transformation and wanted to reach out and brush those curls off her cheek himself. He wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked.
Was this even the same woman? The one who called him deranged and certifiable? The one who now called him a “chiseled, sexy hunk of man”? Wait. With brains and wit?
Tuck licked his suddenly very dry lips. “Sorry, ma’am. I can’t tell you anything about the show. I’m under contract. I’m not permitted to discuss it with anyone.” This was his standard memorized response for anyone he might meet on the street who begged him for information.
Her smile grew and then she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. We desperately need to clean up this drug problem in the bar, and it would seem you’re more than qualified to do it. The faster we catch the dealer, the sooner we won’t need your services anymore. I’m not kidding when I say we can’t afford a bouncer. Dad likes to pretend everything is peachy around here, but I’m the one who keeps the books. We’re barely in the black.”
Tuck nodded. “I’ll try to solve your problem as quickly as possible.”
Chapter 2
Tuck had been assured he could go on with his life, get a job, do normal things. As long as he met the requirements of his contract with the production company, New Millennia Media, he was golden.
Granted, the confines of his agreement were pretty tight. Most people in their right mind wouldn’t have signed on to do this show. Jodi wasn’t wrong about that. Tuck hadn’t hunted out this job at all. He’d never heard of Cold Feet until one of his good friends from BUD/S training had contacted him a few months ago and begged him to fill a hole in the show.
Tuck had been dragging himself through life for several months when he got that call from Nick Nelson. His final tour with the SEALs had ended a few months prior, and he’d done nothing but mope around since then. Nick had known Tuck was depressed, bored, unemployed, and available. He had also known Tuck needed money.
Tuck hadn’t hesitated, jumping on the opportunity, not giving a shit what the show was or what would be required of him.
That was ten weeks and a lifetime ago. He’d been contracted to finish the last two weeks of Cold Feet as the projected groom when the previous actor was basically voted off the island, so to speak.
Tuck was not an actor. He’d never once considered doing anything remotely like this. He was, however, in need of cash, and people would do lots of crazy things for money when pressed against a wall.
His contract had stipulated that he would get five thousand dollars to finish out the two weeks of the show and a bonus twenty-five grand if he actually married the bride.
Katia. Jesus. What a joke. He’d known from the moment he’d arrived that Katia was only in it for the money. She’d been far more desperate than Tuck to get married. She hadn’t even cared to whom. After the first groom, Carl, had been booted for bringing, of all things, date-rape drugs on the show, Katia had begged Tuck’s friend Nick to take his place. Nick was in a new relationship with Dani, the woman he’d been half in love with for over a decade, so he’d turned down the opportunity and called Tuck.
That was how Tuck had gotten into the mess. Five grand had sounded like a windfall. After a few days when he’d realized Katia intended to play the game however necessary to get the other twenty-five grand, Tuck had decided what the hell. Thirty thousand would go a long way toward easing his financial burden.
And then, at the last second, the stakes had gone up…
“How much longer is this reality show going to go on?” Jodi asked, spinning around behind the bar.
Yanked from his ruminations, Tuck lifted his gaze. “One more month.” When the show had ended, the producer had offered them a new contract. Another fifty grand to stay married for ninety days. They’d had to move into an apartment together that the network provided and allow cameras to run in the kitchen and living room twenty-four seven. This livestreaming was apparently so popular with the show’s followers that New Millennia Media had jumped on the opportunity.
“Are you going to stay married to that woman?” Jodi asked, incredulous.
Not a snowball’s chance in hell. He lifted his brows instead of voicing his thoughts. “I told you I can’t disclose details about the show. Not to anyone.”
Jodi sighed, mumbling, “Who the hell would I tell?”
Oh,
just everyone on social media perhaps?
As Jodi continued giving him the grand tour of her father’s bar, Tuck learned that Jodi was thirty years old, an only child, and her mother had died of breast cancer five years ago. She lived above the bar with her father, which might have made Tuck judge her if it weren’t for the fact that until recently, he too had basically lived with his mother. The entire time he’d been with the SEALs he had spent his leave at his childhood home. He’d never thought twice about it. His father had run off when he was two years old, so he didn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been just the two of them.
He swallowed back his nostalgia as he thought about that house. He’d been forced to sell it as soon as he left the SEALs, and he’d been bumming space on a few friends’ couches until moving into the fake apartment setup with Katia.
Jodi was speaking again, and he jerked his attention toward her. She was pointing out where all the exits were. An important detail considering someone was coming and going from the bar with a stash of drugs on them. He hoped to God he was only dealing with black-market diet pills. So far, that was all the police knew about. Coincidentally, he was all too aware of their effects since most of the bridesmaids on Cold Feet seemed to be taking the damn things too. Every one of them had mood swings no one could begin to keep up with. It took him all of two days to figure out why.
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