Assigned (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 3) Page 5

  I shake my head recalling the detailed notes he’d taken in class, including recording the lectures in case he missed writing something down. I don’t want to be a burden to him. In fact, I need the opposite: to contribute for a change. But it’s more than his worrying. Even if by some complete fluke, we end up as a couple before this “marriage” is over, I’d never put him in a position where Mason would have to be his only child. The risks to my health are too great to even consider carrying a child to term.

  Wait, what? I’ve barely laid eyes on the man since we signed our vows, and my brain jumps straight to kids? I can’t think about this right now. Or ever. I grab my shirt and slip it over my head. The moment I stand, my stomach cramps, so I curl over and grimace until the pain passes. If I am accepted to start this new medication, maybe my life will finally begin to change. Wouldn’t it be something to get these symptoms under control? A glimmer of hope sneaks its way into the gloom of the moment.

  While I might not physically be feeling the best, there’s a new spring to my step as I leave the office and head toward my car. After pulling onto the road, I flip the radio on and roll down the windows.

  Everything seems to be changing, for the better. And for once I’m not preoccupied by my disease or drowning in pessimism. Outside the windshield, the world is brighter. The sun warmer. The ocean bluer.

  The ocean. It’s always been a place where I felt free.

  My fingers tap to the beat of the music on the radio. With no real need to race home, I head toward Sandbridge. Too bad my surfboard, with its beautiful yellow hibiscus designs on a tangerine background, is back in Lucas’s garage. Doesn’t matter though, because sitting on the sand and soaking up the warmth will do fine. Just being by the water is enough.

  After parking, I hop out and make my way toward the water. Well, maybe not having my board does matter because those waves look amazing. Kicking off my tangerine Chucks, my toes dig into the soft grains.

  To my right is a canopy tent surrounded by young children. Most likely surfing lessons. I shift direction, curiosity getting the best of me. The big yellow banner attached to the front of the folding table confirms I was right. It’s a surf school for “Gold Star” families, whatever they are.

  “Where have I heard that term before?” A quick search on my phone brings up results and my heart lurches. A Gold Star family is one that has lost a member in service to our nation. They’re the loved ones left behind when a service member makes the ultimate sacrifice and gives their life.

  These are the children of service members who have died.

  “Can I help you?”

  My head jerks up from my phone to find an older man, his gray hair long enough that it covers his ears, waving at me from behind the table. After tucking my phone back into my jean shorts, I wave back. “No, sorry. I was just taking a walk and your banner caught my eye.”

  “Were you interested in signing your child up?”

  My eyes widen and it takes my brain a couple of seconds to make sense of his question. “Uh, no. I don’t have children.”

  “Oh. Do you surf?”

  “Love it. But nowhere near being a pro or anything.” Love it is an understatement, but I don’t have a better word for how I feel about surfing.

  The man laughs. “We could always use volunteers if you are interested. My name is Brian, by the way.”

  He extends the offer like it’s no big deal, but to me, it’s everything. Volunteering would give me a sense of contributing, of giving back. Make me feel like I am needed instead of being a burden. “Riley. And yes, I’d love to volunteer.”

  Brian hands me a clipboard with a packet to fill out. As I scribble in the information, the excitement pulses harder through my veins. This day keeps getting better and better. First a chance to join a new trial, and now a way to give back while doing something I love. It’s another step to becoming the independent person I want to be.

  Once I finish filling out the forms, I return the clipboard and thank Brian for the opportunity. I turn to leave and spy a small group of children standing in front of an instructor, who asks them what they know about surfing. The children call out different aspects and information they know. One of them mentions how his father surfed and follows up by telling the group how his father died.

  My throat tightens and my heart aches for the child.

  Then my mind wanders. Mason. Oh my God. That boy could easily be Lucas’s son.

  And Lucas could one day become that boy’s father.

  Tears prick my eyes. The breeze against my skin feels colder. I wrap my arms around myself.

  Lucas could die because of his job. A fact I never thought of before. One I’m not prepared to deal with. A cloud passes over the sun and I shiver in the sudden shade.

  So much for my postcard-perfect day.

  Chapter Five

  Lucas

  All the reasons not to do this come flooding in, as if my body chemistry sent them a blanket invitation to invade. My stomach shifts uneasily and I glance in the rearview mirror. Mason is busy playing on his iPod, completely oblivious. Maybe that’s a good thing. No reason for him to be upset or nervous about meeting Riley. I’ve got that covered in spades for the both of us. God, I hope I’m doing this right.

  My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “What was I thinking?”

  “Dad, how long until we see Uncle Tony?”

  Damn kid. Of course he had to bring up the other reason I’m a ball of fucking nerves. “Later this afternoon. But first there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Another SEAL?”

  Well, not sure what that says about my parenting. I shake my head. “No. Someone who lives with me now. We . . . got married.”

  Silence.

  I look into the rearview mirror once again. Mason’s lips downturn and he returns to whatever game he was playing a moment ago. I should’ve asked Lisa about how to break the news about my relationship status to our son, but talking to my ex-wife about joining the program isn’t something I’m ready to do either. Not when I haven’t even told my best friend yet that they found a match for me.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  I swallow hard, almost slamming on the brakes. Should’ve taken Mason out for breakfast and had this talk with him over waffles. Some place I could give him my full attention. “Riley will love you. You’re the best kid ever. Well, outside of Tony, of course.”

  “Dad. He’s a grown-up.”

  “Says you,” I say and Mason giggles. Some of the tension in my shoulders dissipates at the gleeful tone in my son’s voice. “Anyway, Riley isn’t a stranger. I grew up with her. We went to school together.”

  “Oh.” Mason’s face contorts, brows furrowed, and he exhales loudly. “Does Mom know?”

  “Haven’t gotten around to speaking to her yet.”

  And it won’t go over well. Not when Riley was a point of contention during our marriage at times. During some fights, Lisa accused me of being closed off because of the way my high school girlfriend had broken my heart. While some of it may have been true, most of the time I’d just learned to compartmentalize too well because of my job. To shut off emotions because I didn’t want to deal with them.

  I clear my throat. “Bud, I don’t want to stick you in the middle, so can you do me a favor and keep it on the down low for now? Let me tell your mom.”

  He nods, a tiny smirk on his face. “Your funeral.”

  Damnit. Should’ve kept Martinez and my son separated from day one. Never knew personality and sarcasm were contagious and long lasting. But when it comes to Anthony Martinez, who knows what he spreads into this world?

  I shake my head. God help Inara and any future kids they have. For sure there will be a lot of parent-teacher conferences due to language and attitude, thanks to their father.

  We talk the rest of the car ride home, though it really feels more like a cross-examination with all the questions Mason keeps throwing at me.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I think my son knows more about my new wife than he does about me. “Why don’t you ever ask me this many questions about myself?”

  “Cause you’re my dad.”

  “So?”

  Mason shrugs, then tucks his iPod into his pocket as I kill the engine. We both sit in the car, staring at the front door for a few minutes, trying to build up the courage to face the unknown that lies on the other side. After unbuckling my seat belt, I look back over my shoulder. “Ready, bud?”

  He nods and squares his little shoulders.

  We hop out of the truck and meet at the walk path. Mason holds out his hand and I grab it before we continue toward the house. Once inside, he looks around as if expecting Riley to greet us. Thing is, I didn’t tell her I was picking my son up.

  Didn’t tell her about the barbeque we’d be attending later either. And that she’d be meeting my teammates. I couldn’t figure out how. I kept coming up with different scenarios in my head and none of them went well. Then time ran out. Hopefully, she doesn’t get mad, but wouldn’t blame her if she did. This is all so new, and it’s . . . Riley . . . so I’m at a loss about how to act. Still wrapping my head around this whole program and how they assigned my high school girlfriend to be my wife. Talk about a mind fuck.

  “Luc, is that . . .?” Riley comes into the main area from the kitchen wearing a pair of stone-gray joggers with a light-blue top, an oversized aqua mug in her hand. Her blond hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, as if she just tumbled out of a well-used bed. God, she looks sexy. I try to say something, but my voice seems stuck in my throat. She glances from me to Mason and smiles. “Um, hi.”

  After clearing my throat, I place a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Mason, this is Riley. And Riley, this is my son, Mason.”

  Riley comes closer and extends a hand, which Mason takes into his own. “Nice to meet you, Mason. Your dad told me a bit about you.”

  “Does your family really own a horse ranch? How many horses do you have? Does it smell like poop?” Mason blurts out.

  My eyes widen. So much for worrying about my son being anxious. Seems like informing him about Riley’s family has given him something to focus on. Though, quite curious where the poop question came from . . . oh, wait . . . Tony. Gotta be. Sometimes I wonder why I ever allow my teammate to babysit.

  Riley kneels down so that she’s at eye level with Mason. “Yes, my family has a horse ranch with about twenty horses. Sometimes it does smell like poop, but not in the house. Well, you sort of get used to it, so maybe.”

  Mason’s face scrunches up. “You get used to smelling horse poop?”

  Riley chuckles and nods. “Yup. After a while, you don’t even notice it.” Then she stands up and looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes that I got lost in growing up. I worry that I’ll see a storm brewing in them for not telling her about bringing Mason over, but she offers me a smile. “Made some waffles if either of you are interested.”

  Mason takes off his jacket and hands it to me, then follows Riley toward the kitchen. “Okay, but we shouldn’t eat a lot, since we have to go to Bear’s house this afternoon.”

  My new wife stops dead in her tracks and spins around, pinning me with a glare. Apparently throwing in the barbeque is a bridge too far on the surprise front. “Mason, why don’t you go take a seat at the table while I talk to your dad for a moment?”

  What I wouldn’t give to rewind the clock and walk back out the door. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I straighten, then start to close the distance between us. Except Riley holds up a hand, palm facing me, and I stop in my tracks. Then she points to the front door. “Outside.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We need to talk and I’m not doing it in here.” She indicates the kitchen with a head nod.

  Fair enough. Gotta give her credit for not chewing me out within earshot of my son. Growing up, Riley certainly didn’t care which of our friends was around when she read me the riot act, which she did on a couple of occasions. She could have a short fuse. Like her dad.

  We step out into the cool April morning. A soft breeze envelopes us, the smell of wet grass filling my nose. No sooner do I turn my eyes skyward when Riley growls. “What were you thinking?”

  I turn to face her, but before I could get a word out, she steps closer, poking me in the chest. “You blindsided me. How is this fair?”

  Defensiveness wells up in my chest and the best defense is a good offense. I push back instead of backing down. “The paperwork included the fact I had a child, and it was mentioned when you moved in. If it was a problem, you shoulda told the committee.”

  Her faced turns red. “That’s not what I mean. A heads-up would’ve been nice about both meeting your son and going to Bear’s house, whoever that is.”

  I quirk a brow. “Who said you were invited?”

  Her mouth opens and closes, no sound coming out, and she takes a giant step back. She turns to face the door, then back to me, hand flailing about in the air. “Mason . . . I thought . . .”

  While it was cute to rattle my new wife, something I used to do when we were younger as well, there will be hell to pay once she realizes what I’m doing. And that moment just arrived, courtesy of the grin I can’t stop from spreading across my face, no matter how hard I try.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” She places her hands on her hips. “How do you know I don’t already have plans?”

  “I don’t. And if you do, that’s fine. Don’t have to come along.” Might be easier if she didn’t. Breaking the news to everyone is going to be nerve-wracking enough, let alone having her there. And Tony will surely ride her last nerve the way he jokes around. I sigh. I know she’s right about how I handled this. “Didn’t think this through well enough.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Try working the hours I do and balancing a new wife and a child.”

  Riley straightens. “Figured you were just hiding out at work. You’ve hardly been around for a week and a half. Sort of got used to having the house to myself.”

  “Hiding? You wish. This is my life. Part of the reason Lisa left in the first place.” My throat tightens at the admission. But I refocus my attention, watching my new wife for any tics, any sudden movements. “Why’d you sign up to get married if you were just looking for a roommate?”

  And again, not the best move. Riley’s face goes from red to a deep crimson. There might even be smoke coming from her ears, but I’d rather keep my distance than lean in closer to look. Instead of biting my head off, she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Definitely never expected that.

  “Lucas, I’d appreciate it if in the future you inform me about events we need to go to. And a heads-up on when Mason normally comes over as well. Not that I would ever object, but I wouldn’t want to be caught walking around the house naked.”

  My breath catches in my throat as a mental picture begins to form. My dick begins to grow in my jeans. While I certainly noticed Riley’s beauty—because it was hard not to—I’d done a decent enough job not picturing her naked. Until now. Now I can’t picture anything else. “You walk around the house naked?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No. But I have darted from the bathroom to my room and vice versa without any clothes on. It takes four steps to go from one to the other.” Riley slaps my arm. “You better not be picturing it.”

  “Kinda hard not to.” Our eyes meet and something passes between us, something hot.

  Before either of us can say another word, the front door opens. Mason stands in the doorway staring at us. “Can we eat now?”

  Riley smiles at him. “Absolutely.”

  Before she walks off, I grab her wrist. “Listen, you’re right. I’ll be more forthcoming with the schedule as best as I can. Things come up unexpectedly at work, so can’t do much there. And sometimes with Mason as well. Part of being a parent. I’ll do what I can, though.”

  “Thank yo
u.” She quirks a brow at me. “Is your friend’s name really Bear?”

  I chuckle. Mostly because when anyone meets the burly, redheaded giant who looks like a Special Forces terminator, the last thing expected would be that his name is Henry. “No, it’s a nickname. But it’s what everyone calls him. Even his wife. Well, unless he’s in deep shit.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The three of us sit around the table, eating, and answering all the questions Mason throws out. I sit back and take a swig of my lukewarm coffee, watching Riley and my son interact. She’s a natural with kids. And the way she thought about stepping outside to argue, then recentering herself when she got angry . . . she certainly has changed from the teenage girl I’d known.

  And loved.

  Shit. Can’t go there. Won’t go there. She left me once already, and just because she’s good with my kid doesn’t mean anything. She could easily walk right back out the door tomorrow. Doesn’t matter she gave me her word, especially not if deep down inside, she believes what her father told her all those years ago, that I would never be able to take care of her.

  Granted, I’m a long way from the poor kid I was growing up. I know firsthand how money doesn’t buy love and passion, something Riley probably doesn’t understand since she never had to suffer in any way growing up in the big mansion her family owned. What hardship has she ever known?

  Then the vision of that studio apartment I picked her up from floats through my mind. Something still doesn’t add up there. I’ll figure it out eventually, though.

  *

  Maybe I shouldn’t have had two cups of coffee. Certainly isn’t helping with my nerves. I scan the driveway and the area in front of Bear’s house as we pull up to the curb, a sense of relief flooding me that Tony’s car isn’t there. How I want to kick myself for feeling this way, but I need some extra time to prepare. My best friend certainly isn’t going to make this meeting go well. He’s a notorious jokester and he also knows my history with Riley, stories shared during those ominous moments during war when we welcomed any reprieve, even if it meant talking about our broken hearts.