Still Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 10) (11 page)

“Maybe you should talk shit out with her,” Finn suggests. “Because you’ve got history together. That stuff matters. Not so sure you’re gonna go on your way happy if you just get a divorce as quick as you can.”

“I’m not sure the fine state of Florida does anything quickly.” Hindi filed in New York the first time. Maybe we should go back there? I put that shit on my mental to do list. I’ll get to it when I get to it. Right now, it feels right to just let the fuck go. Truth is, I
am
on the far side of thirty, and I feel it. Not so much in my body—thank Jesus all my parts, including my dick, still work—but somewhere in my head. My heart. Not the fucking organ, but it’s the emotional stuff. Most days, it feels like I’m camped out in the middle of an iceberg and that’s wrong. Way too screwed up that I’m hanging back, watching life, but not ready to jump in. I’m one big ice cube bobbing up and down on the waves, and I’ll probably collide with Greenland at some point and that will be that.

Except that when I’m around Hindi, I’m not cold.

I’m on fire.

But that’s just lust. She’s hot and I’m not blind. I’m just admiring the really great view.

“You think she dated while we were split up?” I ask because, yeah, I’ve wondered about it. She’s hot as fuck and so full of life. What guy wouldn’t want to do her? Chastity would require a major miracle, and we both believed we were divorced. Free to go about our business with whomever we wanted.

Finn snorts. “Fuck if I know.”

“Yeah.” Cover a whole lot of territory with that word, too. Guess I could Google her, see what I could find out. As a reality TV star, I’m betting her dating life is fair game. Hell, that one time I visited her in New York, my face—and my ass—ended up plastered across more than one site. It doesn’t feel right, though, checking up on her. We’d said our goodbyes, and she’d have got on with her life. Not like I wanted her alone and hurting.

When I look at her now, I just see my Hindi. Don’t see those missing years and damned sure don’t want to fill in the blanks. As far as my dick is concerned, time hasn’t passed at all. My head has moved on, but my dick is planted in the past. Rest of me, though? Being career military leaves a mark. My body has scars on it, inside and out, and while I earned them serving my country, I don’t look like an underwear model. Not sure how I’m gonna stack up against Hindi’s usual crowd. Woman fucking designs underwear, so she’s seen a lot of banging bodies. I know what to do with what I’ve got, but I’m no pretty boy. Nor am I interested in the dating game or stripping down in front of a new woman.

Fuck.

When did I get so old?

“None of my business what she did or didn’t do,” I say finally, because I can just tell that Finn’s itching to say something. We’ve got another twenty miles before I can ditch his ass at his front door or Vali’s. Jack curls up behind us, enjoying the backseat. I don’t begrudge him. He’s earned it.

Finn actually takes a minute to respond. Must be working through one hell of an answer. “Think that’s the best idea,” he says slowly. “I mean, she thought the two of you were over. Not like she was cheating on you if she did see other people.”

Fuck, but I’m tired. “Water under the bridge.”

Finn nods. “So only question now is whether you want a retread. Because she’s hot, she’s here, and it sure as fuck seems like she’s still under your skin.”

Hindi is somewhere, that’s for sure.

“Are you suggesting I do my ex-wife?”

“Not like she’s actually your ex, right? You’ve got some time before everything’s official?”

“You think she’s gonna want to play house with me while we wait for our dissolution?”

Finn blows out a breath slowly. “Noooo. But I think you should look at the possibilities. You’ve got some time to kill, and it sounds like you’ve also got some unfinished business of the non-paperwork variety.”

“Are you Ms. Lonely Heart now?” I snap. “Last I checked, you’ve had exactly one serious relationship, and I know for a fact that you did just about everything you could to screw it up.”

Finn may have met Vali when he pulled her out of a ditch (which was guaranteed to win him points in the heroic rescue department), but she hadn’t recognized the long-term potential in him for ages. She’d once told him that he was like a loaner car—beat up, dinged and dented from serial bad drivers, and easy to share with girlfriends. Yeah. It took him a
long
time to dig himself out from that one, and then he’d compounded his mistake by agreeing to pose as Vali’s fiancé. It’s hard to go from fake to real. Ask me how I know.

Finn beats out another symphony on my dashboard. “How long’s it gonna take?”

If the ball is in Hindi’s court, the divorce ought to happen about when I turn eighty. “If we both show up on time and sign shit at the first available opportunity? Three months from start to finish. If we find shit to fight about, could be as long as a year.”

“So spend some time with her, have sex if you’re both feeling it.”

“We’re getting a divorce, not dating. Both words begin with the letter D, but they’re different end games.” I keep the
dumb ass
to myself as I turn off the highway and down the private road that connects Search and SEALs’ private island with the rest of the Florida Keys. Finn’s vocabulary isn’t the real issue here.

“I know.” Finn leans forward, staring out the windshield like he’s expecting the Promised Land to come into view. Must be expecting Vali at his place tonight, lucky bastard. Vali’s a good woman. “But I can’t remember the last time you hooked up with anyone.”

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of my sex life.” I consider slowing down just to fuck with him, but I get his eagerness. He’s got everything waiting for him at his place—why shouldn’t he want to get there fast?

“Sex is awesome.” Yeah. The big grin splitting Finn’s face is plenty of testimony. “You should try it. Put out some and loosen up.”

“Some of us don’t think with our dicks.” Okay. I don’t. That apparently makes me a minority of one, because Finn snorts.

“You’ve got unfinished business. I can sense it.”

So what if the attraction’s still there? I need to stay the hell away from Hindi Alvarez. Which is, of course,
exactly
why I told her
she
was in charge of our divorce. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson from her first attempt at breaking up with me.

I stop the Jeep in front of Finn’s place. The lights are on in his bungalow, and doughnuts to dollars, Vali’s waiting for him. And it’s not that I’m jonesing to be married or quite as settled as Finn and Vali are, but they’ve got something and I’m not such a closed-off dick that I can’t admit it. They fit together, and more importantly, their lives fit together. When he walks through that door, he’s got someone waiting for him and Vali’s really fucking special. No rescue in the world could beat that feeling. I mean, I love my job and together we make the best team… but there’s got to be more to life. Someone more.

Finn’s found someone to rescue him from loneliness, and I’m jealous. Yeah. Not a nice feeling to own up to, but it’s the truth. Finn deserves every moment he gets with Vali, but I’d like a shot at that too. Someone to rescue me. To fill the emptiness and make me feel alive. And that’s a tall order, not one I can just waltz up to the next woman I meet and place. I mean, I’m like
that
guy, the one who phones in a Chinese take-out order large enough to feed an entire SEAL team (and we have big appetites) and then wants the delivery boy to somehow fit all those cartons and bags in the teeny-tiny milk crate strapped to the back of the delivery Vespa. Some shit’s gonna get left behind or fall off on the way. I’m asking for way too much.

And while I’m riding the bad metaphor train, Hindi and I were the right order at the wrong time or place. Chow mein at breakfast or stone-cold egg foo yong. The potential for an awesome, kick-ass meal was there, but we got the timing all wrong and ended up in the trash—and I kinda want a do-over.

I’m not going to say I want a second chance—more like a second moment. Another night. Just a few more minutes with the two of us naked before we split for good and head in different directions. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, but Hindi’s gonna take some convincing. She’s the one leading the charge on the divorce front, so any counter-charge I make needs to be well thought out.

Yeah. I got that handled. I’m the king of planning, the guy who makes Sherlock Holmes look like a disorganized, impulsive schmuck. Plus, the lovely state of Florida is on my side—we’ve got weeks and weeks before we can pull off any divorce.

“I’m gonna make a plan,” I tell Finn.

“Sex plan?” Humor lights his eyes, the bastard.

“Do you kiss and tell?” I know he doesn’t—and not just because, as discussed, Vali would disembowel him with the nearest sharp object. He loves her and their business is just that—
theirs
. Still, he hums, whistles, and generally smiles like a happy loon after he and Vali have shared some quality time together. A really happy, getting-some, just-got-laid loon. Yes. I’m jealous.

Finn slaps me on the back as he opens the door. “Good point. Kick ass, man. I’m rooting for you, but you don’t need to share the details, ‘kay?”

“None of your business anyhow.”

Finn grins and slams the door. “Gotcha. If you need sex tips because you’re so goddamned rusty, I highly recommend
Cosmo
. Sure, it’s a chick thing, but it’s the best enemy intel you’ll find. Girls talk about anything. Downright scary. Plus, they’re all convinced a guy can’t find a clit without a diagram and written instructions. You got any questions, that magazine will answer them and then some.”

“Vali been complaining?” I call after him.

Finn just waves and disappears inside his bungalow. Yeah. I can practically hear clothing start hitting the ground. I put the Jeep in drive and cover the two hundred yards to my own bungalow. There are no lights on at my place, and I’m damned certain I have no one waiting for me. That’s going to change.

I park and go inside, already planning.

Hindi Alvarez is my new personal mission. We’re going to date. To spend quality time together. Talk. And
then
we’ll have sex. Hot, dirty, sweet, nasty, intimate sex. Yes, I fucking Google the dating part and I may spend way too much time on the
Cosmo
site. I need all the intel I can get. You just need to remember one thing.

This isn’t love. It absolutely, positively isn’t.

It’s good old-fashioned lust—with a side of… something.

Yeah. I hear me, too. It’s that
something
that’s gonna bite me on the ass and make me beg for more.

Rohan

B
y the time I pull up outside Hindi’s rented bungalow the next day, I’m second-guessing the plan. My track record with relationships is shit, so today is not a sure thing. I am not the king of seduction, because I’ve never spent time convincing a woman to go to bed with me if she wasn’t all in. The way I see it, however, Hindi and I haven’t spent much time together. We had a week on Angel Cay, and we spent most of that time fighting or fucking. And while getting her naked still tops my to do list, we need to get to know each other. Again? For the first time? Not sure which it is, but Finn’s right. Why
not
take advantage of our time together now? Not like it’s a second chance, but it’s something.

Nerves provide a kick of adrenaline, making my stomach churn. Should have popped a Tums. In the military, the instructors like to talk about tactical breathing. Breathe right and you can race into a burning building, take down an armed opponent, or stay calm in close combat. It’s like a fucking magic trick. I breathe in through my nose.
One two three four.
Hold it.
One two three four.
Push the air out my mouth.
One two three four.
Hold it.

Like insta-Valium, right?

Yeah. No such luck, but I head up Hindi’s walk and knock on her front door anyhow. And then I stand there. Waiting. Usually, I’m really, really good at waiting. Once again, it’s a skill set I’ve acquired courtesy of Uncle Sam. Today, however, I’m impatient to put my plan into motion.

Lilah pops out of nowhere, camera in hand. “Hey, pretty boy,” she croons.

Yeah, I turn and look behind me. Wouldn’t you?

She laughs and snaps my picture. I frown, so naturally she fucking does it again. It’s like she lives in opposite land, where all the normal kindergarten rules don’t apply. She doesn’t use her words, doesn’t say please and thank you, and doesn’t share her toys. Nope. She snaps and hugs the ten-thousand-dollar piece of hardware closer, just in case I decide to snatch it out of her hands and make a permanent statement about my dislike of unauthorized photography. She’s not stupid.

“Pretty sure you need my permission to use those,” I point out. Hindi’s not answering the door, so I knock again, a little harder.

“Public space,” she rejoins. “No expectation of privacy.”

“Bigger and stronger,” I counter. “Expect to lose your camera.”

“Maybe the pictures are for my own personal use.” Lilah shoots me a wicked grin. “Like spank bank material.”