“Shit, Viking. You’re getting downright domesticated,” Ringer said, with a dry humor that had the guys snickering.
Eric joined in, seeing the humor. “I’m not home that much. And as long as I have someplace to put my clothes and something to eat…” he shrugged. “After nine years, I’ve decided that I might be sticking around San Diego for a while.”
The four guys who knew him best exchanged a look.
“I’ll keep my bike, because I like to travel light. And I don’t need anything fancy or new. Just something to transport my gear from point A to point B when my bike isn’t convenient. I’m open to suggestions.”
Cowboy covered his eyes with a hand, gave a sniff, and when he looked up, pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “Our boy is growing up.”
Eric punched him in the arm and he staggered.
The men laughed. Cowboy grinned, though he worked the arm as though it hurt.
Eric whipped out his phone to take notes. “All right, shoot. If you needed a dependable vehicle what would you buy?”
Barlow, the FNG, was the first to offer a suggestion, “I’d get a truck.”
That got the ball rolling and he entered their suggestions in his own shorthand, planning to research them all before making a decision.
Finally Pretty Boy, Cowboy and Ringer pulled out and Eric climbed into the DPV with Barlow and Rooster.
“Why do you really want a car, Viking?” Rooster asked.
He remained silent a moment. “I’ve taken advantage of my friends more than long enough. I need to take responsibility for my own shit. Also, I’m doing more diving, and I’m planning on doing some surfing.” He could almost see Rylie on a board. She was good in the water. “So I need something I can load my gear into. I used to rent a vehicle when I needed it. Now I want my own.” And as easy as Rylie was on his Indian, she admitted she was more comfortable in her car. He’d get a used vehicle. Maybe three or four years old. He knew how to work on them.
“All right, Barlow. Pull out and let’s see you catch up to Nick. I want to see how you handle this baby.”
Two hours later Barlow drove into camp, much better at handling the DPV, and parked it in the storage area with ten or twelve others.
They all three piled out of the desert patrol vehicle with the typical stiffness of having been riding in it for half a day.
“Jesus, I’m hot, sweaty, and could eat the ass end of a buffalo,” Rooster said.
Eric tugged his helmet off and shook his head like a dog shaking off a bath. “I could eat the other end. Let’s go get some chow, then hit the showers.”
In the mess hall the cooks piled food on their plates. They joined a table clustered with other team members and fell upon the chow like hungry wolves.
Once his belly was full, Eric sipped his Gatorade, replenishing some of the fluids and electrolytes he lost sweating out in the heat.
And once again, he wondered why they were here to begin with. They’d done shooting and navigational drills where they were dropped into different locations and had to find their way back within a certain time frame. All things they’d done countless times in the past. It did give each team time to work with their new team members and test the guys, but nothing they couldn’t accomplish working up to a mission.
But it wasn’t his place to question the head shed.
Pretty Boy sat down next to him. “How’d it go with Barlow?”
“He’s ready.”
“Have you heard anything about your promotion since you got back?”
“Yeah. It’s on hold.”
Nick’s dark brows rose. “Any reason why?”
“No. L.C. Yazzie called me in to tell me it was on hold and he’s still pushing for it. He didn’t know what the holdup is.”
Nick’s frown deepened. “It’ll come through. You’ve earned it. Think we’re gearing up for another desert deployment?”
“Jesus, I hope not. I’d rather be dumped ass-deep in the jungle than fry my ass in another barren, hot sandbox.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me, bro.”
And now they’d both found women who cared about them… He read he same thing in Nick’s distant look.
CHAPTER 15
The hollow sound of hammering thudded through the house, broken up by the high-pitched, discordant whine of saws coming from one of the rooms downstairs. They were knee-deep in the Bryant project, and Rylie was grateful, because it kept her mind occupied. Most of the time.
She walked from room to room with the project manager, opening windows to see which ones had issues and needed to be repaired or could be adjusted. Every day the house was locked up, moisture seemed to cause issues.
While going through the motions she wondered what Eric was doing. Some of the training they did was dangerous, and it only took one mistake for someone to be injured or killed. It didn’t happen often, but she still worried. Knowing about what he did hadn’t proved a comfort when her father was deployed, and it hadn’t proved one now.
While she was flagging the last window on the second floor, a familiar voice came from the doorway. Her heart fell as her father entered the large master suite. He’d never come to a site before, and she couldn’t believe he showed up now.
Every time she saw him the hurt rushed back in. “Has something happened?” she asked when he reached her.
“I’d like for you to unblock my number. I’ve been trying to call you.”
“About what?”
“Just to know you’re okay.”
She spread her arms, the gesture saying it all.
His jaw tightened. “Stop being a smart-ass.”
“You rarely called to see how I was while deployed, Jack, and now you’re suddenly concerned?”
Color flared in his face and his jaw tensed. “Your grandmother took good care of you while I was gone. If anything had happened, she’d have notified me.” He looked toward the open window behind her. “I’m going out of town for a week. I’ll be in Washington for some meetings at the Pentagon. I’d like to be able to call you when I get back to check in.”
She took her phone out of her back pocket and changed the settings so his number was no longer blocked. “Is that all?”
“Damn it, Rylie. I apologized to you.”
“No, you didn’t. You made excuses. They weren’t good enough.”
His eyes went molten with anger.
“Is there a problem?” Melissa Bryant stepped into the room. The ice in her tone threw water over the fire. When Jack turned to face her, he was once again composed.
“No. Not at all. My father just stopped by to let me know he’s going out of town.”
“Mr. Stewart,” Melissa said, stepping farther into the room.
He wasn’t in uniform, so she wouldn’t know from looking at him he was military. Or would she? Rylie didn’t bother to correct her.
“Dad, this is Melissa Bryant, the owner of this house.”
He turned to face her, his features carefully composed. “Beautiful home.”
“It will be even more amazing once your daughter finishes working her magic. I’m already seeing some of that outside and in.”
Melissa moved forward with the regal bearing in her step that earned her the nickname Contessa. “Your daughter is a real talent. You must be very proud of her.”
“I am.”
Did she hear a defensive note in his voice?
“But you don’t really have any idea what she does, do you?”
He didn’t. He wasn’t interested in what she did because he believed what he did was all-important.
He eyed Melissa, his expression blank. “She remodels homes.”
“Not exactly. She creates works of art while she’s making living spaces more comfortable and pleasing. You’re welcome to tour the house and see some of the work.”
“I don’t really have time. Maybe when I get back.”
Melissa raised one haughty brow.
Rylie moved to the door. “
I need to do a quick check on my crew outside. If you’ll excuse me for just a minute, Melissa.”
“Of course. I was close by and couldn’t resist stopping by to see how things are going. I’ll entertain your father and meet you in the great room.”
She left the two of them and made her way to the front entrance, where two men were installing the doors. She stood back and again admired the iron design she commissioned for the arched transom window above the doors, which mirrored the clematis growing against the back wall. It was perfect.
The baritone sound of a motorcycle engine blended with the higher pitch of the saws. Rylie’s heart rate rocketed, and she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see her father standing behind her. His timing was always impeccable, and she’d never been able to get away with anything around him. Which could cause her and Eric some major problems.
She worked her way over several drop cloths to the kitchen and walked outside in the shade of the Porte Cochere. She barely noticed the new beams already installed across the roof, all her attention on the stocky man with dark hair and a round face who swung off the motorcycle, a Harley instead of an Indian.
Disappointment landed like a heavy boot atop her excitement. It was one of the workmen instead of the man she wanted it to be.
She paused beside the planter that ran between the outer supports of the Porte Cochere, destined to be the herb garden Eric suggested. The bottom bricks had been stuccoed to match the house, and the top left terracotta, and mortared in the same pattern as the design around the windows.
She walked around the side of the house to check out what the outside crew was working on now the roof was repaired and the Porte Cochere finished. The workers had moved around to the front and were now constructing temporary scaffolding to both paint the ceilings and replace the woodwork. Several areas of new plaster shone a grayish white along the side of the house, where a damaged wall had already been repaired and left to dry.
It occurred to her that she wasn’t standing outside watching the men because she was needed, but because she was avoiding her father. And how long could she continue to do that?
No longer than she could continue to avoid telling Eric who her father was?
When he returned from training, she’d tell him. She had to.
Though she couldn’t read how Eric felt about her, she knew she was falling for him, her feelings deepening every time they were together. If he was going to dump her, now would hurt, but she might survive the break without being too emotionally scarred.
Or that was just what she told herself?
With a sigh, she turned and went back inside.
She heard Melissa’s husky laugh and followed the sound to the great room. Since the workers weren’t using the front door to haul in materials, the terracotta tile floor had been cleaned and sealed, and the handmade tile she chose for the fireplace was already installed. Since the beams hadn’t been stripped from this room, they were in the process of installing the canned lights before the room was painted. All that was lacking before the paint job was the arrival of chandelier she ordered refurbished so the electrician could reinstall it.
Her father and Melissa looked striking together as they stood discussing the newly renovated fireplace. Melissa’s makeup was perfectly done, her hair dark and styled. Though Jack’s hair was threaded with gray, he was still in good physical shape because he ran every day, and lifted weights a couple of times a week. With his broad shoulders and heavy, masculine features, he provided the perfect contrast to Melissa’s slender femininity.
“Everything okay?” Melissa asked her brows rising.
“Yes. The crew should finish the beam work outside today. How do you like the wrought iron piece for the transom window?”
“I think it’s perfect. The design reminds me of the clematis outside.”
“I thought it would project a kind of symmetry to have the iron flowers here and the live ones at the back as you step out. In fact, I’ve added subtle design elements that carry the vines and flowers theme throughout the house.”
Melissa prowled the room and paused before the firework to run her fingertips over the new tilework. “This is fine work, And I love that touch of terracotta along the edges.” She looked up. “The clematis is blooming now, and you were right, the scent carries into the bedroom upstairs.”
“I’ve told the landscapers not to do anything to discourage it. It adds a pop of color against the back wall and a touch of romance with its fragrance.”
She’d taken Eric’s suggestions to heart because they were so perfect for the exterior of this particular house. “There will be a cactus garden outside along the back wall. I’ve chosen several colorful varieties that bloom. And the planter the men built outside the kitchen will provide fresh herbs, a Spanish tradition. I’m thinking about adding some hot pepper plants, too. They’ll add a pop of warm color to offset the different shades of green and require next to no care.”
She tried to ignore her father’s silent presence and asked Melissa, “Is there anything you’ve seen so far that you’re unsure about?”
Melissa pointed up at the ceiling. “Are you replacing the chandelier in here?”
“I’m having the original one cleaned, rewired and adding some bling to it. Let me show you what it will look like once it’s done.” She whipped out her tablet and scrolled through the designs in progress. “Here it is.”
Melissa laughed. “What a creative idea! And it matches the vines on the door.”
“To replace it would have cost upwards of four thousand dollars. Renovating it cost half that, plus the flowers were fashioned out of stained glass by a local artist I know, so it will essentially be a piece of art.”
“It will be a one-of-a-kind light fixture.”
“How would you feel about using the money we saved on the chandelier for a water feature out back?”
“A water feature?” Melissa’s brows rose. “I know you’re putting in an outdoor kitchen and a pergola, but I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Just to divide the entertainment space from the back garden and add another dimension to the space. The sound of water is always relaxing.”
“It would be.”
“I’ve drawn the plans for it, and I’ll meet with the contractors to see how he can construct it. And what about using beaten copper in the design to tie the color of the terracotta tiles inside the house to the exterior structures?” She scrolled through her drawings again found it and handed Melissa the tablet.
“I’m also adding some of that to the hood over the stove in the kitchen. It’s a beautiful material.”
Her father moved close to look at the design with Melissa.
“I didn’t realize you can do something like this, Rylie.”
“Part of being an interior designer is knowing the qualities of different materials used in construction and how they can be manipulated to create any structure, or look, or mood our clients need.”
His gaze rested on her face for a moment before he said, “Melissa, would you mind very much if Rylie walks me to my car so we can have a few moments? I’ll be driving to the airport from here.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” She offered her hand. “It was very nice meeting you, Jack. Good luck with your trip.”
“Thank you.”
Rylie led the way down the entrance foyer and out the front door.
“I didn’t realize how much goes into what you do, Rylie. It takes all those small details to bring the whole project together.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Melissa is very impressed with you.”
“I’m glad, because she has a reputation for not being the easiest client to work with. So far we’ve seen eye to eye on all those details, although that might change the further into the project we get. I’m trying to add modern touches to lighten the interior of the house and make it more comfortable for her.”
“It’s a beautiful house. As she said, you’re turning it into a wor
k of art.”
He’d never complimented her like this before.
They walked the length of the extensive front portico with its arched openings to the car.
“How much longer will you be working here?”
“We have six more weeks before the crew will move on to another project. I have another house that’s in full swing right now as well.” She glanced at her watch. She’d have to leave before lunch to get there.
His brows met in a frown. “You carry a great deal of responsibility with these projects.”
“There’s a lot of money on the line for the company I work for. I have to stay on top of things.”
They reached the car and an awkward silence fell between them.
Her father had always been an enigma to her. He worked so hard to maintain the distance between himself and everyone else. There were only a few people he socialized with, and even fewer outside the military.
The three women she knew he’d dated had never been able to break through that reserve. And they’d eventually disappeared from his life with as little fuss as they entered it.
He’d been careful to maintain a distance between them and Rylie as well.
How lonely it must be for him to be so locked down personally. Had he always been like this, or had the failing relationship between him and her mother caused him so much pain he’d drawn inside himself?
She wanted to shatter his reserve into a thousand pieces. “I’m dating someone, Dad. It’s serious.”
“How long?” he asked.
“A while now.”
She couldn’t begin to read how he felt.
“Are you going to introduce him to me?”
“He’s out of town at the moment, but when he gets back I’ll arrange something.”
“I’ll call when I return from Washington,” Jack said as he opened the car door.
She nodded.
“You’re nothing like your mother, Rylie.”
Was that supposed to be a compliment? She felt the need to defend the woman who had given birth to her, in spite of remembering very little about her. “If she was such a disappointment to you, why did you stay married to her?”
Hot SEAL, Taking the Plunge Page 10
