Luke
“First Female Navy SEAL Unhinged.” The headline accompanies a photo of Little Dempsey with the guy from last night in a headlock. She looks certifiable, and sort of hot. I stifle a grin because it’s bad press. Horrible press. Aarabelle is probably scratching paint off the wall pissed mad right now. I would be. She looks like she’s handling business, and maybe that’s what the media needs to see to finally leave her alone. Doubtful. This is a huge deal. I set my phone down on the pool deck table and meet my dad’s gaze. I shake my fist in the air animatedly, and shrug. He approaches.
“It’s Sunday, are you having anyone else over?” Mav asks, eyes dropping to my phone. “Dempsey told me you and the guys stood up for Aarabelle last night.”
“Doing the right thing downrange and at home,” I say, banging my bare chest mockingly. “Do you want me to invite Little Dempsey over?” I ask, raising both brows, trying to read my father’s face. My mom walks over and his hand reaches out to pull her close to him. “Dad’s trying to run my adult life,” I tell my mom.
She looks up at my dad, her eyes lighting like a flame. My dad looks back at her just as goo-goo eyed. “Are you giving him a hard time?” she asks him.
I stand from my chair. “I’ll see if she’s busy. We leave for Marana tomorrow.” I clear my throat. “Guess I can give her the rundown on what to expect.”
“Windsor, can you tell Jonas to expect a visitor on your way back with a couple sparkling waters?” Dad smiles at mom.
“Am I cooking for another?” Mom asks, looking between me and Dad. “A woman? Is it true? Are we meeting your girlfriend, Luke?” My sister laughs loudly before splashing her friend in the pool behind our parents. It’s a beautiful lazy Sunday. Cherishing these slow, peaceful days is one of my favorite things. My life is hectic and full. Do I really want to invite someone new into this sacred space?
“Not that way,” Dad replies. “Dempsey’s daughter.” He goes on to explain the harrowing rules about the no relationship clause the PR woman set about for female inclusion into the Teams. He reminds her that rules about officers and enlisted fraternizing don’t apply in our situation. I can invite anyone from the Teams that I want.
My mom claps her hands. “Oh, I love Aarabelle. She’s such a beautiful girl. I was talking to Natalie about how nervous she was going through training.” She sighs. “She makes me proud to be a woman.”
It’s obvious ol’ mommy dearest hasn’t seen the news headline today. I smirk and pick up my phone. I have Little Dempsey’s number from last night. We exchanged digits in case she needed anything.
“She’s on my Team,” I tell Mom, casually. Dad rarely tells her anything about our work lives. Now that he’s getting to the end of his career, he probably speaks even less than that. “Dad wants me to be her friend.” I grin at the juvenile sentiment. “So no one picks on her at recess.” Mom purses her lips, eyes narrowed. She’s reading in between the lines. Almost as if she knows I wanted Little Dempsey to come over without Mav ordering me to invite her. Swallowing hard, I adjust my swim trunks and play at casual indifference. “Or during workup,” I add a more truthful excuse so my mom eases her glare.
Dad ruffles my hair, his dimples on full display. “Fuck off, son.” He walks away laughing and cannonballs into the bean-shaped pool, his tattooed back disappearing in a huge splash of water next to Marley and her friend. The girls shriek because he got their hair wet, but giggle when he surfaces and ask him to play Marco Polo.
Balling my fist at my side, I pull up Little Dempsey on my phone and fire off a quick text. My address. Then one more text with the code word for Jonas at the gate. Why am I nervous? This is the same as if Dagger or one of the other guys were to come over to hang and for dinner. This is my bubble. The personal space that I don’t let anyone else inside of. My family. My safe place regardless of everything else happening in my life or the world. My mom walks on the open patio area that’s open to the house. Glass walls raise and lower to give more privacy when we’re not using the outdoor space.
Aarabelle:What does this mean. Is that where I leave the duffle bag with unmarked bills?
I can’t suppress my grin.
Luke: My house. I’m having people over.
The smile falls off my face as I realize that was a lie.
Luke:Casual dinner and pool. Bring a suit.
Aarabelle:K. Only because Marissa left for work this morning abandoning me. I’m leaving CJJ PR right now and there are paps outside. My mom is trying to do some damage control, but if I drove home now, they’d follow me and never leave. I have to go straight there.
I tap the phone against my thigh as I think of what to reply with. Friendly. How I’d talk to a friend, but tempered.
Luke:The mugshot on the front page this morning was epic. I have a gate so they won’t follow you in at my house and take more flattering photos.
Aarabelle:Shut up, Hart. A gate?
Luke:Don’t judge.See U soon.
My heart races in an unfamiliar jagged beat that confuses me. What is happening? Just another Team guy…girl. I walk into the house and my mom is headed back with two drinks in her hand. She has on a long bathing suit cover up with her hair pulled into a long ponytail. Windsor Hart has my whole heart. I love my mom so much.
“Aarabelle will be here for dinner. You need me to run to the store to pick up anything else?”
Her blue eyes twinkle. “No, no. I have everything I need here.” She goes up on her toes to kiss my cheek before sauntering back out into the sunny day.
I check my phone one more time and then I pace the foyer.
* * *
“I can’t wear this butt floss, Hart. Not in front of Instructor Hart for Christ’s sake!” Aarabelle exclaims, holding up the bikini to examine it. It’s one of Marley’s suits, brand new with tags still on it. She keeps them at my house for instances such as this.
