Damaged Desires: A Frenemy, Military Romance

by LJ Evans

  “You need to get yourself together, Nash. Before it’s too late,” Tristan said, zipping the bag, heading toward the stairs.

  “Me? I need to get myself together?” I said, moving two steps in her direction. She was the last one to talk. She didn’t sleep, barely ate, and was functioning only enough to take care of Hannah. She was a walking zombie without emotion unless she was looking at her little girl.

  Dani jumped off the counter and stepped in between us. “Whoa. Just stop before one of you says something you’ll regret. Tristan, I got this. I’ll stay and take care of Molly. Nash can go deal with the consequences of his dumbass male ego.”

  Silence settled down over all of us. Guilt hit me like a thousand-ton brick because I couldn’t help Tristan with either of her problems. I couldn’t go with her to New York or take care of Molly. I had to drag my fucked-up ass back to Virginia Beach, see the shrink, and hope to God I hadn’t screwed up my Navy career beyond repair.

  Dani

  FINALLY // BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

  “Your eyes, so crystal green

  Sour apple baby, but you taste so sweet.”

  Performed by Halsey

  Written by Frangipane / Kurstin

  Molly ran up and down the beach, barking at the waves, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. She had more energy than I could even fathom, but she was sweet and mostly well-mannered. She begged for food and sat in your lap, but that was the worst of it.

  We’d never really had a dog growing up. I wasn’t sure why, when I thought about it. Even with Dad in the Navy, we’d stayed at the house outside Wilmington. Mom and Dad had wanted us to have a stable home life in one location. It had certainly made it harder on their marriage. And maybe, at the end of the day, that was why we hadn’t had a pet. Four kids had been enough to keep Mom’s hands full.

  Molly finally found and brought back the stick I’d thrown, shaking her fur, and I grimaced as I was coated with water and sand. She barked, wagging her tail with such ferocity I thought she might take off in the air. I smiled and threw the stick once more.

  When I’d returned to the beach house the day after Tristan left and Nash took off for Little Creek, the dog had acted like she’d been left alone for a lifetime, whining at the basement door and at the baby’s high chair. It was as if she’d sensed a change in the air. The tension between Nash and Tristan had never gone away before she’d left.

  It was different than the tension I felt whenever I was in the same room with him. Theirs had been the stress of unspoken words; mine was all desire. As if something inside me ached to be closer to him. But I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself. Not only because Mac would kill us both, but because Nash knew exactly how to charm a woman’s panties off. I didn’t plan on being one of his long list, regardless of how good he looked shirtless.

  The memory of him in the armchair with Hannah on his bare chest was seared into my brain. The harsh red scar stretching from the base of his neck and trailing along his collarbone, blending in with the swirling black and colored ink that twisted over his skin—only the SEAL Trident obvious, the rest a mix of objects and words that I didn’t know how to read. The tattoos and scars were layered over defined muscles, cuts you rarely saw except in bodybuilders.

  That image had been following me into my dreams over the last two weeks. It was a welcome relief to my nightmares but still had me waking with a body shaking. Desire and need coursing through me instead of fear.

  The physical reaction I had to Nash made me feel like I was fifteen all over again with a crush on Bee’s boyfriend, Zane, the senior basketball hero who everyone at the school adored. Tall, lean, dark, curly hair with a great smile. He’d always been nice to me, even when I was exactly the awkward teen Bee had accused me of being.

  That Dani—the insecure Dani who wasn’t sure she’d ever be anything more than a joke—had glowed like a sunflower turning toward the sun when Zane had talked to her, flirting a little and making Bee frown. They weren’t moments I was proud of when I thought back on them. You don’t flirt with your sister’s boyfriend. But I hadn’t built up a wall against Bee then, and we had often struck out at each other. Sisters who loved each other but also didn’t know how to get along.

  Having the same physical reactions to Nash as I’d once had in my childhood to another off-limits male didn’t exactly make me want to be in the same room with him. They weren’t feelings I wanted to succumb to, especially when the man was fighting his own set of demons.

  I finished the jog on the beach, which had replaced my time at the gym, and returned to the house determined to do something more than dwell on my past and a man I shouldn’t want.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  I had the music blaring as I grated the last bit of cheese to put on top of the pan of enchiladas I’d made, following Mom’s recipe. I wanted to freeze a few things for Tristan so, when she got home, she wouldn’t have to worry about dinners for a while. Even though I royally sucked at cooking, Mom had promised this would be simple, and it had been. Messy, but simple.

  I was still in my running gear. Yoga pants, sports bra, and a tank that barely covered it, but it had been pointless to change. Who was going to see me?

  I was belting out Selena’s “Boyfriend” as I turned around to put the block of cheese back in the fridge and screamed at the body that stood leaning in the archway.

  “Holy shit,” I said, resting my hand on my heart. “What the hell, Nash?”

  He didn’t respond; he just took me in like he always did. As if he were cataloging every item I was or wasn’t wearing, along with every single mole and beauty mark. My heart didn’t slow down; instead, it picked up the pace at his gaze. I returned it, like I always did, a silent challenge. He had Molly, the really bad watchdog, cuddled in his arms against his uniform. The T-shirt and his cammies clung to his muscles, showcasing them. The expensive boots on his feet stated his profession in case his uniform, his build, and his attitude hadn’t already given it away.

  When I’d studied his face, with its square jaw coated with dark stubble and eyes so dark a green they appeared black, it was his eyes that shot darts into me. Poisonous darts of liquid sex, making my body tremble with just a look. Damn him.

  “You’re cooking,” he said, lips quirking at the corners. “I thought you never cooked.”

  Had I told him that? Had he filed away all of my words the same way he seemed to catalog my looks? The majority of times Nash and I had been together, we’d been surrounded by others: Mac’s mess of Navy friends, my entire family, or Tristan’s family. There’d only been the one time we’d truly been alone when we’d accidentally run into each other at a bar in D.C. We’d talked about nothing specific over the round of beers I’d bought—much to his chagrin. I’d promised he could buy the second round. A second round we’d both known was dangerous with the fire licking between us like a flame curling its way up the first logs in the grate. It had been a good thing when I’d been called away with a crisis in Matherton-land.

  Molly squirmed, and he put her down, patting her, his long hands running over her body, and I was suddenly jealous of a dog. Molly took off, probably to find her favorite toy to leave at his feet like she’d been leaving it at mine for two weeks.

  “There’s cooking, and then there’s cooking,” I said, emphasizing the words with finger quotes. I made my way to the fridge to put away the cheese, and it drew me closer to him, the spell of his body teasing mine just like every time I was anywhere near his orbit.

  “What are you doing back?” I asked.

  “Nowhere else to go at the moment,” he said. He hadn’t budged from his position leaned up against the wall, but when Molly dropped a rope toy at his feet, he bent, picked it up, and tossed it into the other room. Her nails scrabbled on the wood floors as she went to retrieve it.

  I turned back to the counter, swallowed the rest of the whiskey I had in my glass, and then finished cleaning the counter and the cheese grater.
>
  “What did the psychologist say?” I asked, and when I turned around, I caught a glimpse of an emotion I hadn’t seen before on his face. Hurt and loss mixed together. He didn’t respond.

  I poured myself more whiskey and waved the bottle in his direction. He nodded, and I reached for another glass to pour one for him. I left it on the counter, taking mine to the kitchen table where I had a solitaire game laid out. Another task that kept my brain occupied in the quiet of the house.

  He tossed the toy for Molly again before he picked up the drink and sat down across from me. “Have you heard from Tristan?” he asked.

  I nodded, moving a red queen on top of the black king I’d just turned over.

  “Why? Haven’t you?” I asked.

  He ran a hand over the top of his hair, colliding with his sunglasses. He placed them on the table. “She isn’t returning my texts or calls.”

  “So, you just thought showing up at her house was the way to go?”

  “Don’t start. You’re as bad as Mac.” He glowered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I promised him, and I damn well mean to keep that promise,” he said, his voice full of emotions you didn’t normally get from him. Molly seemed to take his tone to mean he was done playing, because she laid down at his feet. The dog was a traitor. Just like my body.

  “Does she get a say in it?” I asked him.

  He ignored my question and waved a hand. “What are you playing?”

  “Um. Solitaire.”

  “That’s not how you play Solitaire.” His lips quirked again.

  “It’s Demon Solitaire,” I said with an eye roll, trying to hide the shake in my hands from being near him.

  “Is this what you’ve been doing for the last two weeks? Cooking and playing Solitaire?” And this time, his lips turned up into a full smile, his white teeth in his tan face gleaming, eyes twinkling.

  “No. Well, yes, but I’ve done other things, too.”

  “Like what?” he challenged.

  “Why do you care, Otter?”

  That wiped his smile away, and my heart twisted. The timer went off, I pulled the enchiladas out, coated them with the cheese I’d grated, and put them back in the oven for a few more minutes. When I turned back around, he’d changed seats so he was in the chair next to mine, and he was moving my cards.

  “Don’t screw up my game,” I told him.

  He chuckled, a low rumble, deep from his chest, and I wondered what it would feel like if my hand was on his skin. Would I feel the movement all through my body?

  “It’s just moving red to black and number to number. How hard can it be?”

  “There’s a strategy to it,” I said, moving over but not sitting down in the chair I’d vacated. “See, you’ve totally screwed it up.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t be able to move that whole stack now because you’ve blocked it.”

  “I feel like you are taking this way too seriously. Is this like your family and poker?” He smirked.

  “No. Poker is way more serious.”

  “So, if I were to do this, you wouldn’t care?” He brushed two of the piles so they mixed together, and I cringed.

  He chuckled, and I was close enough that the energy coasted over my skin, littering it with goosebumps. I turned back to the oven, taking out the pan. The enchiladas didn’t look half bad for my first attempt. My body tingled a warning, but I still almost dropped the entire dish when I placed it on the counter, because Nash had moved so that he was right beside me.

  “Jesus. Is your goal to give me a heart attack tonight? How did you move without me hearing it?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Sniper training. Stealth is my mode of operation.”

  I stared for a minute. I hadn’t known he was a sniper. SEAL, sure, but it took much more than brute force to be a sniper. The list of requirements was long, including a lot of brainpower. Nash having brains as well as looks was almost too much to consider. I moved away from him. Brains in men was always a turn-on for me. It was what had attracted me to Russell. He was smart. Ridiculously smart.

  “How many people are you planning on feeding? Is there a party of twenty coming?” he asked.

  “No, I’m freezing it for Tristan. You know, making sure she has something easy when she gets back.”

  His smile was wiped away. “That’s pretty nice of you.”

  “Whatever you’ve heard about me not being nice, it’s all lies. I can be very nice,” I said, grabbing plates from the cupboard. “I’m so nice I’ll even share some of this with you.”

  “Are you sure you made enough, I mean―”

  I threw the potholder at him, and he caught it deftly.

  I dished us up, and he took the plates from my hand and put them on the table while I got out the silverware.

  “This doesn’t look right,” he said as he sat down. I moved my plate from the chair next to his to the opposite side of the table. He didn’t object or make any snide remarks about my moving away again, but he watched me the whole time.

  “What doesn’t look right?” I asked, frowning at the enchiladas. They looked perfect. I was pretty darn proud of my first attempt, considering my normal cooking disasters. I could barely make a grilled cheese without burning it.

  “I mean, where’s the rest of it?” he asked.

  “Rest of what?”

  “Rice, beans, salad, chips. The rest of the meal.”

  Shit. He was right. I hadn’t even thought about what should go with the enchiladas. They did look odd sitting on a plate all by themselves. I laughed. “Well, at least she’ll have part of a meal.”

  His eyes went to my lips, and it took my laugh and my breath away. I got up and grabbed a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry, returning with them. “Here, you big baby.”

  He scooped out a bunch, placing them on his plate before digging into the enchiladas. “Hey, these are pretty good,” he said after he’d swallowed his first bite. I’d watched every move. His fingers on the fork. The chew. The swallow. The Adam’s apple moving up and down. How could he possibly make something as mundane as eating look sexy?

  I took a bite, and I felt him watching me just like I’d watched him. He was right, though; they were pretty good. I poured myself another glass of whiskey. He hadn’t touched his yet.

  “How many of those have you had?” he asked.

  “Don’t let taking care of Hannah go to your head. You aren’t a dad, and you most certainly aren’t mine.”

  “Thank God,” he said, and it was loaded with double meanings. “I just wanted to know if I was going to have to clean up puke or not.”

  “Hardly. I hold my liquor pretty well.”

  “That’s what every drunk ever has said,” he replied, his lips doing that damn quirking at the corners again. Infuriating. He was gorgeous, sexy, and maddening. And now, on top of all that, I knew he was smarter than he ever let on, which made it even more impossible to ignore the signals my body was receiving from him.

  “I could still beat your ass at poker,” I said without really thinking about it.

  “I’m sure you could,” he said with a straight face, but I wasn’t sure if he was saying it sarcastically or literally.

  “Do I need to prove it?” I asked, and he raised his eyes to mine, those poison darts sinking into my skin.

  “I feel like you being drunk would be the only way I’d have a chance at beating you if you’re as good as Mac.”

  “Ha. I’m better than Mac,” I told him, which was the truth. My brother had way too many tells—especially if Georgie was around. Then, his tells were even more pronounced with the distraction she caused him.

  “Challenge accepted,” Nash smirked at me.

  I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t stay in the same vicinity with his sexy eyes and sexy skin and sexy smell. God, maybe I was drunk if I was thinking about his smells. Something earthy and spicy all at the same time. I should just
pack my bag and leave. There was plenty to do at home as Mom got ready to hold Mac and Georgie’s wedding in the backyard the following week.

  “I don’t believe Tristan has poker chips,” I said as a way of getting out of it.

  He shook the bag of tortilla chips. “We have these. They’ll work.”

  Our eyes met again for the hundredth time. I’d laid down the half-ass challenge, but he was calling me on it. Was it a bluff? Would I walk away? It went against my grain to back down—something I’d let myself forget off and on this year. Something Bee and others thought I’d done by walking away from Washington, especially when I’d left without another job and with no reason to leave other than I couldn’t stand to stay.

  “Fine, but when I’ve taken them all away, don’t complain about having to find something else to snack on.” I hadn’t meant it sexually, but the look he shot me went straight through me, all the way down to that very place that would love to be his snack.

  I took my plate and piled it with the chips.

  “Make sure it’s fair, Dani.”

  My name rolled off his tongue and made my entire body quiver. Stupid body. “You’re the one who cheats, not me,” I told him, referring to the time he and Darren had beaten Mac when they were all on the USS George Washington.

  He laughed again. He’d laughed and smiled and grinned more in the few minutes he’d been in the kitchen than I’d seen him do in a long time.

  “Mac deserved it,” Nash said. “He was such an egomaniac, promising no one else would win if he was playing. He needed someone to take him down a peg or two.”

  “Says the Navy SEAL,” I tossed back. “SEAL and egomaniac are synonymous.”

  He didn’t respond because he knew it was true. I made sure our chip counts were as close to even as possible when using tortilla chips instead of poker chips. While I was divvying them up, Nash poured more whiskey into both our glasses.

  “To keep things really fair, I think we need to redefine the rules of engagement. Like you drinking two for every one of mine,” he said.