I swallow, surprised by his honesty. “You weren’t lying about traveling everywhere, were you?”
He laughs, shakes his head, and then leans his back against the spot where his hand just was.
“No girlfriend then? You’d be rolling paint at her house if you had one.”
Biting his lip, he blinks slowly. “Well played,” he replies. “I saw how the military broke families. I’ve avoided as many relationships as I possibly could because of that first-hand knowledge.” His face changes, then. Almost like the guard he keeps in place wilted a touch by telling me something personal. I can tell he wasn’t lying before, he doesn’t talk about this kind of stuff. “I like to keep things simple now.” He drums his fingers on the stone behind him.
After an awkward pause he tells me a story about how as a young child he rode a subway alone to school when he was in Japan. I marvel at his tale. With my interest, he continues to tell me tales of his amazing life. His bravery transcends that which most would label brave. His stories are surreal given my limited experience with traveling. He can tell I’m eating up every word because he keeps talking, keeps my mind spinning. Sometimes he uses his arms when he talks and he reminds me of Thor, or some WWE wrestler because he looks so big in here—like maybe a horse or a bear found its way into a house on accident.
I serve the salads on large plates and set them on the table. He watches me move, and I’m a little less self-conscious as time passes. I still hate him and what he stands for, but I guess he’s not the most horrible of company. Especially when he’s telling me cool stories.
“Grab a couple napkins from the holder behind you, Tahoe, and give me a month to decide” I ask almost on an impulse, trying my best to keep a grin off my face.
He nods, turns and grabs the napkins, and smiles, his face aimed at the floor, all the way to the table.
Chapter Four
Tahoe
The water is so fucking clear and warm compared to the west coast. Diving is much easier when that’s the case. In order to keep up on my dive qualification, and get paid for it, I have to do a major dive every so often. Today, the lot of us went out and did a dive with full gear. I’m always surprised by how tired I am after a long day of diving. While I’m suspended in the water, my flippers on, it’s like I’m as light as a feather. I’m at peace in the water, a quality that most SEALs have, but some don’t. Some hate the fucking water with a passion. They are the ones that struggle through BUD/s training and only the strongest will make it through. It’s the end of the day, and our sleek, matte gray boat is carrying us across the glassy water back to our docks.
As we pull closer, I see her sitting on one of the old wooden docks to the left, tan legs a mile long, bare feet kicking the water back and forth. She sees us, but she doesn’t see me—can’t distinguish who is who while we’re all wearing the same black wetsuits and gear. She brings a hand up to shield her eyes from the setting sun as she seeks me out.
“Your puppy looks lost, Tahoe,” my teammate Aidan remarks, mirth tainting his observation.
I shake my head as I walk up the deck of the boat, dripping water as I go. “Aren’t dogs supposed to obey?”
He replies, “Puppies don’t. They chew up everything in sight for months. My buddy got a lab and that thing ate the legs off a goddamn table!” It’s like a light switch with most of us. We’re finished working. Now we can talk about dogs, puppies, and beautiful, unnerving woman who sit on docks. I merely shake my head at his analogy.
“Leash trained, then. Job well done, Tah,” my friend says. It’s a joke meant to make me laugh, but it makes my empty stomach swirl with unease. I’ve never been around a woman quite like Caroline before. I thought the innocence was a front, a gimmick to make a man interested. I tested it a few times and came on to her hardcore—full on Tahoe wants to fuck, but while her body responded—her cheeks pinked, her breathing harried, and her eyes widened, she didn’t act on it. No, she wasn’t sure what to do with any of it.
“Shut up, bro. She doesn’t do what I say. She doesn’t do anything I want,” I remark, sliding the shoulders on the wetsuit down. On a second thought, I make a snap decision to lie. I tell him how she sucks amazing dick. We’re grown men and yet I feel the urge to hide the fact I’m spending so much time with a woman in a platonic way. Like maybe they’ll realize I really am truly fucked up and belong in Florida instead of in San Diego with my best buddies. San Diego Tahoe would have a different meaningless brunette every day of the week.
He leans against me as he shimmies his own wetsuit down, like a sticky second skin. “Ah, so the truth is finally freed. All it took was a little southern dime piece to tell you no snakes in the grass. I’ll write it in my calendar,” he growls, lowering his voice as we approach said dime piece. His sentiment isn’t entirely untrue. She’s not telling me no for the reason he thinks. Caroline isn’t answeringanyof my questions.
I catch her eye, finally, and she smiles, her pink lips tilting to one side. “Don’t bust my balls. Caroline does that enough for ten people. She owes me a decision today,” I remark, aiming my words his way. Checking my watch, I confirm it’s been exactly a month today. A month of me trying to get a read on her, 30 days of trying to get into her pants, two fortnights and two days of challenge and entertainment, of house projects and laughs and stupid arguments.
“You need to seal that fucking deal. I need to get in the air. I’m surprised Leif didn’t break ground on a new airport. We’re all itching for sky diving.” The same time they sent me here, to Bronze Bay, Florida, they opened up several other small SEAL bases in coastal states. San Diego and Virginia Beach are still the main bases, but our reaction times are quicker now that we have smaller ones staffed around the U.S.
“These things take time. You know that. This is taking even less time because we’re handling the deal in first person instead of a middle man coming in here and complicating everything that much more.” I clear my throat. “She’s going to agree to it. We’ll be jumping by next week.” As I say those words, I let my gaze find Caroline. My teammate slaps me on a wet shoulder and heads for the office. I veer in the opposite direction, toward her still sitting on the dock.
Dropping my flippers next to her flip flops, they splash water on her ripped jean shorts. She doesn’t complain or squeal like a typical woman would. The pockets of her shorts are hanging out, exposed against her thighs. With her sun kissed skin and white tank top, she is my favorite definition of Florida. “They let you in here,” I say, joking. When I told Caroline she could come in to my work to talk about the airport arrangements, I made sure I put her name on the approval list.
“They did take my driver’s license and gave me this badge thing,” she says, holding up a lanyard and a plastic card. “Like I’m going to steal secret intel or something,” she scoffs, turning her eyes to the setting sun. “You stole this beach. I learned to walk here, you know?” Caroline nods to the right, toward a long section of beach that now sits untouched. We bought all of the land, including the beach when we established our base here. “The question is, why did they let you in here?” Her gaze rises to meet mine. Crystal blue. Her eyes are almost see through in this light—the color of a pale blue, fluffy cotton. She raises one brow, urging me to answer.
I pull my arms out of the sleeves and push the wetsuit down my torso until it’s resting low on my hips. “Because I always get what I want,” I reply. She studies my tattoos for a moment and then turns away like she’s committing a crime by looking at my bare body. These southerners have rules I’ve never heard of before. It makes me smile.
Leaning back on her elbows she says, “You can use our airport. I came to tell you that. Not because you always get what you want, because it’s a sound business decision. My dad is clearing out hangar five for you. If you need more space than that, let us know. I’m sure three would work as well, though that one is a little closer to my house than I’d like.”
“Yes!” I exclaim, jumping in the air. When I land, Caroline startles and then gasps. “Excellent. Thank you,” I say, my enthusiasm surprising both of us. Maybe because it took more convincing than I thought it would, maybe because I count any victory as something to be celebrated.
“Don’t kill me, dear Lord in heaven, you about scared me to death. You can sign the paperwork the next time you’re over my way.” She pulls her feet from the water and perches her heels at the edge of dock and hugs her knees up to her chest.
Sitting next to her, I scoot until my wetsuit covered leg brushes against hers. “Aren’t we going to your house right now?” Almost every day ends at her house. It’s become an unspoken routine. “I was going to put up the lighting fixture in the living room area.” I started following her around to convince her, sexually, into giving us the airport. It was a challenge and this is such a small town there really wasn’t much else to do. As I got to know her better, it turned into something else entirely. A friendship founded on opposites. “It was the last thing that needed to be done. I need to finish it.” It’s the hanging chad of house projects and I’ve taken more ownership of her place than I had any right, but it’s given me something I didn’t know I needed. Companionship.
Caroline shakes her head and turns her face my way. “We’re going out tonight. I owe you one real date, remember? Then you can be free of me. No more doing me any favors to win my good graces. You sign and the deal is finished. We’ll be business partners at the airport, but I’ll stay out of your way and you’ll stay out of mine.”
Pride is an awful thing. Right now, it keeps me from demanding a friendship and her attention. It’s also what won’t allow me to give up. “You’re going out on a date with me?” I ask.
