Angelo: A Second Chance Navy SEAL Romance

by Carlisle, Lisa

  “Five.” His mother dished out more helpings of lasagna to anyone who had a spot cleared on their plate.

  Her Italian and Armenian heritage correlated to massive amounts of delicious food when they were home. He was definitely going to put on some weight if he ate like this. He’d have to make sure he got his daily training in.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful there.” His mother clasped her hands in delight. “A perfect Newport wedding on the ocean.”

  “With several hot single women, I hope.” Matty raised a speculative brow.

  Vince leaned back in his chair. “They’ll all look like supermodels to me at this point. Been a long time.”

  Angelo agreed with a grunt. Far. Too. Long.

  His dad sipped his wine and leaned back, staring at the glass as if analyzing his latest batch. “Anything you boys want to see or do while you’re home?”

  The three brothers exchanged glances. Matty answered for them. “Women.”

  His mom swatted him with a dish towel. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Come on, Marissa,” his father teased. “You think you’d be used to it by now.”

  “Sad, but true.” She nodded with a knowing smile. “I’ve heard more than my ears ever wanted to hear.”

  Angelo took another bite of lasagna. A woman would be a welcome distraction. One night with no-strings-attached could help release some of the tension that had wormed inside every nerve and muscle. No matter how often he stretched on a foam roller or sought mindfulness with deep breathing and visualizations, images of combat would intrude on his peace of mind like a snoring bunkmate.

  Yes, one night with a beautiful woman was a good plan.

  “Plenty of single women at a wedding,” Matty noted in a conspiratorial tone.

  Angelo raised his glass. “I’ve been warned countless times in the military to never volunteer. But I’ll be the first to sign up for that mission.”

  Catherine

  Catherine shouldn’t have checked her notifications. She was in a room upstairs at the wedding venue on Saturday afternoon with the others in the bridal party. They shared champagne, shrimp cocktail, and stuffed mushrooms before heading downstairs for the wedding ceremony.

  When her phone buzzed, she’d checked it out of habit. Maybe a bad habit. In this case, it did nothing to help her with her frayed nerves.

  Trent, the man who had contacted her about her work last week, had found her on social media. She had blocked him through her work email, but he had found another way to contact her.

  You haven’t responded to my letters or email. I am waiting. I’ve warned you about your research. You must stop the project.

  She shivered as if a thousand insects crawled over her skin. He’d have to keep waiting since she had no intention of answering per guidance from the security team at the university. They would handle it. Sure, a part of her felt badly for him, but that was up to a professional in a different field. Her focus was on the brain and on memory research in particular, not treating a patient who believed the government was trying to wipe his memories.

  Catherine pictured her two cousins and what they’d gone through when they were kids. What they’d suffered with numerous brain surgeries had inspired her to keep going through the years of intense studying to become a neuroscientist. She wasn’t going to let a stranger deter her goals.

  Besides, coming here to the wedding in Newport was supposed to be a fun weekend getaway, not more work. She turned off all notifications, shoved her phone into her purse, and returned her attention to her friend, the bride.

  Half an hour later, Catherine waited for her turn to walk down the aisle. Her heart beat and skin turned clammy. She dreaded the impending walk with dozens of eyes tracking her every step. Was it stage fright or was she still rattled by the intrusive contact?

  Probably a little of both.

  Relax, nobody is here to see you. They’re waiting to see the bride and groom. If the five-year-old flower girl can handle it, don’t you think you can too?

  True. She inhaled the scent of roses and ocean. Her gaze followed the trail of pink rose petals on either side of the grassy path leading to a white pagoda where the groom and groomsmen waited.

  Plastering on a smile, she stepped forward, focusing on the waves flowing in from the bay rather than the people staring at her. She counted her steps to steady her nerves—numbers were a surefire way to refocus. They were comforting. Which was why she loved math. It had rules. Structure. Before long she reached her destination. Pivoting past the groom, she took her designated spot opposite the groomsmen as they had practiced last night. She exhaled, the worst part was over.

  The rest of the bridesmaids followed and then came Diana, wearing a beautiful, princess-like strapless dress and beaming with happiness, clearly relishing this moment. Catherine had heard many versions of her dream Newport wedding during their time rooming together at MIT. When Diana had met Ryan during trivia night at a local pub two years ago, she had no doubt her friend had found the one.

  Catherine watched the two of them exchange vows and reflected on how different her path had gone from Diana’s since their graduation. She didn’t share those dreams of a happy ever after. Dating had taken a backseat as she pursued a Ph.D. program studying the biology of the brain. What few relationships she’d had were short term and devoid of passion. Perhaps that was for the better. Her friends had been tormented by relationships, spending countless hours analyzing some guy who was usually soon out of the picture. Now that she worked at a university in Providence, she didn’t have time to waste on the nonsense surrounding relationships.

  She glanced out at the wedding guests. Did she know anyone? When she spotted a man seated on the groom’s side, she stifled a gasp.

  Angelo DeMarchis.

  It couldn’t be him. No… Not here, not now…

  Was it, though? She couldn’t be sure from this distance and she wasn’t about to stare.

  How many times had she fantasized about running into him? As the years went on, she’d long since accepted a romantic reunion was not going to happen. She lived in Providence and he could be deployed anywhere in the world. But, now ten years after he’d enlisted, he was seated at her friend’s wedding in Newport.

  Whenever she’d heard news about the troops, she thought of him. Was he still in the Navy? Was he safe? She was not prepared for this. All those cute fantasies she’d had when she was younger shattered, replaced by a sweaty-palm fear. She stared at her bouquet of calla lilies and clutched them more tightly.

  Calm down. You’re getting worked up over nothing.

  Maybe it wasn’t Angelo after all. This was just a byproduct of her nerves. This guy had a beard and his dark hair was longer than the crewcut she remembered. She’d thought she’d seen him around Rhode Island countless times before only to be let down when she discovered it was a stranger.

  Which option did she want—for it to be him or not?

  Catherine blinked slowly before glancing at him again, ready to accept that she’d projected his face onto yet another stranger. He smiled at her and she quickly averted her gaze. The men beside him had to be his two brothers and his parents. She’d only met them a couple of times but recognized them. No doubt this was Angelo.

  Damn.

  Images of their last night together returned. That unforgettable night when they’d kissed—and had gotten so close to doing so much more. She’d put on the brakes and had questioned her actions countless times since.

  The anxiety of walking down the aisle minutes before now seemed like a piece of that multi-tiered wedding cake. Time slowed down. She no longer heard what the justice of the peace was saying.

  What would she say to him after all these years? Her body shifted into overdrive, heart pumping wildly. Should she go for a casual tone, like they were long-lost acquaintances? Or, a bit more reserved, yet not aloof. Seconds ticked by like a swinging pendulum while her mind raced over what might happen next.

  For someone s
o analytical, who didn’t just have plans, but many backup options for a multitude of scenarios, nothing came to her.

  Nothing.

  Chapter Two

  Angelo

  Angelo took his seat beside his family at Ryan’s wedding. The setting sun draped the sky in golds and oranges over the Narragansett Bay. He inhaled the ocean air, and the salty scent comforted him. Damn, it felt great to be here, surrounded by the sea rather than sweltering in a desert or freezing on a cold, barren night in the middle of nowhere.

  Minutes later, the band played, signaling the beginning of the wedding ceremony. Angelo turned back with the other guests to face the historic estate, now a seaside retreat and popular wedding site. A flower girl walked out from behind the brick building and tossed flower petals. Following her came the bridesmaids, all wearing rose-colored dresses.

  Matty nudged Angelo and whispered, “Look at the hotties.”

  He glanced at the handful of women lined up. A brunette looked familiar. At this distance, he wasn’t sure.

  Nah, he was probably imagining that once again. How many times had he thought he recognized someone during deployments? Human nature, probably. Trying to find a familiar connection in strange surroundings.

  Throughout the ceremony, his gaze returned to the bridesmaid standing in front of the bay. Even at this distance, she was a vision under the setting sun. Her dark hair was pulled up with loose curly tendrils framing her face and her hair shone with a reddish hue under the sunlight. Although she wore the same rosy-pink dress as the other bridesmaids, it hugged her curves in a way that made him take a closer look. Oof, yes. She was the one.

  The ceremony ended, and one of the groomsmen extended his arm for her to take a hold of. Angelo scowled. If they were together, that would kill any chance he had. He studied their body language to see if there was any sort of familiarity between them, anything to indicate they were a couple. No, they both appeared stiff, not quite comfortable with each other. A good sign.

  As soon as he saw an opening, he would make his move before somebody else moved in. Like his brothers. He glanced at his watch. If the wedding party took photos after the ceremony, she wouldn’t return for some time.

  She didn’t. Angelo kept an eye out for her during cocktail hour and once they entered the reception area for dinner. He didn’t see her until he returned from the restroom. She was standing on the side of the dance floor with the rest of the bridal party as the bride and groom were introduced.

  He returned to the table where his family was seated with a younger naval family who had recently relocated to Newport. While they dined on a New England style seafood dinner, complete with clam chowder, boiled lobster, steamed clams, and cornbread, his parents gave the younger family tips about the base and raising a family in Newport.

  “No finer place to sail,” his dad said.

  “And the schools are very good,” his mom added. “Several programs for the kids.”

  Matty nudged Angelo and Vince and nodded to the head table. “Which one of you suckers is next?”

  “I didn’t dodge bullets overseas only to get hit by one back at home,” Vince replied in his characteristic dry tone.

  “Must be you, Doc,” Matty said.

  Him? Angelo tried to picture himself as the groom in this setting, saying vows to his bride in front of the bay. The image was blurry, static.

  “Not going to happen.” He leaned back in the chair. “Doesn’t fit the lifestyle.”

  “True,” Matty said.

  Vince nodded.

  Throughout dinner, his mother gushed about her sons to acquaintances.

  “Tell him where you’ve been.” His mother nudged Angelo’s arm after chatting with a man with graying hair.

  “Ma, you know we’re not supposed to talk about that.”

  The man chuckled. “If you tell me, you have to kill me, right?”

  Angelo suppressed a groan. How many times had he heard that one?

  Matty cut in, “We’d rather have a drink with you.”

  Angelo glanced at his youngest brother. He was most at ease in social situations, while Vince was more reserved, more fascinated by technology than people. Angelo had definitely taken on the leadership role, feeling a responsibility to take care of them. That mindset had carried over to the SEALs where he took care of others as their corpsman.

  “You’re all active duty now?” The man asked. “Impressive.”

  “Yep, we followed our dad into the Navy,” Matty said.

  “Marines,” Vince clarified.

  “You know the Marines fall under the Department of the Navy,” Matty said, repeating their often-resurrected debate.

  “That doesn’t make me a sailor.”

  “That doesn’t make you a SEAL, either.”

  Angelo laughed. Branch rivalry. Sibling rivalry. They’d never run out of fodder.

  Matty turned to his father’s friend. “Angelo is a corpsman and Vince is an EOD tech.”

  “And Matty works with puppies,” Vince teased, before taking a swig of beer.

  “K9s,” Matty clarified. “And they’ve saved many of our asses out there.”

  “True,” Angelo agreed. A recent close call with an IED had been detected by a K9. Too close. But there were the other times where his team wasn’t as lucky. He shuddered as a hot flash swept through him.

  One memory seeped in. A situation that turned devastating in a flash. The lights, the gunfire, the smell of combat. His heart pounded, and skin flushed from the memories. He gritted his teeth, forcing away sounds of explosives and visions of blood.

  No, not now. He couldn’t let the dark thoughts creep in now. He left the table to get some fresh air. A sliver of the moon and the first few stars twinkled in the darkening sky. He gulped in the sea air. Snap out of it. You’re home. He attempted to breathe through it, but the band playing “’Til There was You” echoed in his ears.

  Angelo strolled from the venue, needing to clear his head before he rejoined the ceremony. He followed the four-count breathing technique he learned in the SEALs to stay calm under stressful situations Breathe in through the nose for four seconds, hold for four, exhale for four, hold for four.

  He spent a few minutes strolling on the grass away from the venue. The music grew more faint as the calming sound of the ocean wrapped around him. When he felt ready to return to the celebration, the notes of Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” grew louder.

  There she was. Alone.

  The bridesmaid stood outside the reception hall, staring at her phone. The light from it gave her location away in the shadows.

  This was his chance to talk to her. He strode over to her. A moment’s hesitation could cost him, just like it could on the battlefield.

  “Great wedding, isn’t it?”

  She glanced at him for a flash before avoiding his gaze and muttering, “Yes.”

  Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea. Not only did she not seem interested, his uncomfortable memories lingered like perspiration after a run.

  Once again, he was struck by how familiar she looked. Asking ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ would sound so cheesy that he might as well join the platter of goat cheese and cheddar that were served as appetizers.

  He glanced inside. Couples were dancing. Yes, that was it. A dance. He wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Silence ticked like a grenade. Why had he barked out that invitation without even introducing himself? Damn, those memories had rattled him, killing any attempt at being smooth. He wouldn’t blame her if she shot him down like he was hit by an RPG. What a rock.

  “Sure.” She smiled and stashed her phone into her purse.

  He exhaled. He hadn’t blown it after all. They entered the reception area. The lights had dimmed to a softer, more romantic glow. She stashed her purse beneath a table. Not a very good strategy to keep thieves from snatching it, but he’d keep an eye out on her behalf. Maybe he was being overcautious a
nd should just force himself to enjoy the moment.

  He offered her a hand. When she took it, a sizzling sensation rippled through him. Why? He couldn’t identify why it affected him and that was unnerving.

  The song ended. Shit, if a fast one followed, he’d have to make a quick exit. He wouldn’t be the awkward, ambling guy making an ass out of himself.

  A slow Shania Twain song played. Nice, he could work with this. He led them onto the dance floor and wrapped his free hand around her waist, moving them into the dance. A light floral scent tickled his nostrils, not overpoweringly heavy like how some women doused themselves, but enough to tempt him to inhale more deeply. He kept his urge in check.

  Other parts of his body had different urges in mind, ones more difficult to ignore. She felt so good in his arms. If holding her in a dance felt this good, having her in bed would be incredible. He fantasized how that would play out. Before he got an erection, he searched for something else to divert his attention.

  Combat. No. Hell no. Images had already paralyzed him enough tonight.

  You’re holding a beautiful woman in your arms, the one you’ve had your eye on all night. Don’t blow it.

  He exhaled, staring out the open door to the ocean to force the remaining tension out of his limbs. “I’m Angelo. Friend of the groom’s family. What’s your name?”

  She faltered, and he held her closer to break her fall.

  “Whoa, heels and a dress. Never understood how women could walk in them.”

  Catherine

  Angelo didn’t recognize her? What. The. Hell?

  Catherine’s mind swarmed with racing thoughts as she tried not to let it show how he’d affected her. She kept her eyes averted, focusing on other couples dancing around them or the band exacerbating her torment by repeating, “You’re still the one.” She focused on moving her body along as he led them in this dance, while trying to ignore the heat zinging through her body.

  The night had morphed from semi-awkward to utter shit. First, Trent had contacted her on social media. And then—Angelo. Emotions roiled through her as the past crashed with the present. After he’d first pulled her close, she’d barely been able to breathe with having him so near, the heat from his body doing strange things as it warmed her. At least, she could keep from meeting his gaze while they danced. In this closed space, his proximity would be too intense.