SEAL's Promise - Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01 (6 page)

“So, it will wait for her, then. Maybe in the meantime you can use it.” He tried to smile, but the blush on her face and the fullness of her belly were too powerfully distracting. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was the first pregnant woman he’d been within ten feet of.

Ribbons of jazz came from the house.

“I can just put this in the back yard, if today isn’t a good day. I can come back another time to put it together, but I have time to get it done today, if you’re willing.”

“I hadn’t even gotten to thinking about what she would play with once she’s walking. You do know they have to be born first, start crawling, and then walk, in order to use an outside playhouse?” Her frown marks were easing, and a small, very tiny smile formed on her lips as she told him nonverbally she appreciated that he’d thought of the baby. He liked that he’d been able to think of something she hadn’t yet.

So far so good.

She opened the door, gesturing him inside. He knew where the door to the back yard was, through the master bedroom at the back of the house. Once inside, he saw her unmade bed, the glass of water by the nightstand. A book was lying face down on the table.

“Did I wake you from a nap?” he asked as he walked past the bed.

“No. I was getting a snack and heard your truck pull up.” She opened the sliding glass door and allowed him to walk in front of her into the yard.

She’d planted flowers along the edge of the lawn, ones which had not been there when he visited Frankie before their last deployment. The day of the funeral, he hadn’t followed the others to her house for the reception, preferring to linger a little longer at the cemetery. He’d had private thoughts he wanted to share with his Team buddy.

The yard looked happier than he remembered. He was glad to see Shannon had maintained everything like before Frankie was gone. He’d seen a number of wives fall to pieces, not that he blamed them. But Shannon had moved forward and seemed steady.

He knew she must be hurting inside, but because of her dislike for him, hid it well. He decided perhaps he could change that a bit. Maybe he could bring her a bit of relief.

He laid out the pieces, putting the screws and washers on a corner of the box it came in. He crosschecked the parts to the manifest and discovered there were several bags of screws missing.

He began tracing his footsteps across the lawn.

“What are you looking for?”

“I think I may have dropped a few things. Any tiny bags of screws or wooden dowels?”

“I’ll go look, but I didn’t notice any.” She disappeared from the screen door, returning a few minutes later carrying a glass of ice water. “Nope. Not a thing.” She slipped out through the slider and stepped down onto the concrete patio in her bare feet … with those hot pink toes he was having such a hard time ignoring.

“Here,” she said holding out the glass.

“Thanks.” He drank the whole thing, a bit of the cooling water sluicing down his neck and into the ribbing at the top of his T-shirt. He took a mouthful of ice and began crunching it as he handed the glass back to her.

Shannon watched him, expressionless, and said nothing.

He put together what he could, and figured he’d find the fasteners for the rest later. A couple of times he put the wrong side out. He cursed at the instructions, and decided they’d probably been translated from Chinese. At one point he discovered there was an important triangular-shaped piece missing, one supposed to hold up parts of the roof. Just gone. He had one side, but not the other. The clerk at the store said everything was there, even though the box was opened, but now he could see the young man had lied.

A couple of times, the angle of two panels he’d screwed together was compromised, and collapsed. If he’d been home, he’d have destroyed the whole thing, kicked it around, bent and broken it further, and tossed it in the garbage. But this was Shannon and Frankie’s house, and this was for their baby, and dammit, he was going to get this done.

So much for playing hero. The pieces were so messed up he didn’t know where to start. He sat down and concentrated on them, hoping a solution would present itself, like magic.

Fuck it.

When he was about to give up, he heard the sliding glass door pull open again, and this time out walked Frankie’s dad, with his tool belt on and a red canvas hand tool caddy in his left hand.

“Shannon said I should come and do a rescue on this mission,” Joe Benson said with a beaming smile T.J. found comforting, though he didn’t want to admit defeat.

“Yup. I do believe we have a problem, Houston.”

“Well I’m good at fixin’ problems. Let’s see what you got there,” Benson said as he squatted down to peer at the roof and corners.

T.J. turned his back to the house and began showing Joe what he’d figured out, but he felt Shannon’s eyes on him.

He kind of liked it.

Chapter Eight

‡

S
HANNON WATCHED HER
husband’s hard-bodied friend while he worked outside, struggling to wrestle pieces of pink and light green plywood, painted to look like the sides of a gingerbread house. He first read the instructions, and then quietly aligned the pieces, searching for fasteners, which, all too often, seemed to be missing. He looked for holes that weren’t drilled.

By now Frankie would have given up, but in the hour that Shannon watched T.J. curse and nearly throw the pieces over the fence, she’d also seen him quell his anger, tell himself he could do it, and then sigh back into it. Until another problem arose.

Unable to bear the sight of his frustration any longer, she called her father-in-law. Joe was a regular guy and was never shy about helping out, especially if it required any carpentry or woodworking. And he was the most patient man she had ever met. Their personalities were total opposites, but standing side by side, though Frankie was nearly a foot taller, she could see they were father and son, no question.

“Be glad to help,” he said, and then appeared at her front door within twenty minutes. Just in time, too, because Shannon could smell defeat brewing in the yard.

“He’s getting awfully frustrated, Dad. He thinks there are screws missing, and maybe some wooden pegs.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Always are, sweetheart. I got plenty,” he said as he jiggled his tool kit. “Or they don’t put the holes so they align, or give you the wrong sizes. I’m sure we can work it out.”

Within two hours the little playhouse was constructed, complete with new trim around the eaves for extra sturdiness, which Joe had recommended. The two men worked well together, and on several occasions T.J. burst out laughing at whatever Joe had said. She heard Frankie’s name several times.

It occurred to her that it did Joe good to have another man Frankie’s age to share the work on that playhouse, and if Frankie were here, Joe would have been doing this alone. But with T.J. he’d found a kindred spirit.

Or maybe it was the grief that brought them together. Whatever it was, it was working.

Shannon admired their handiwork. The two men were practically slapping each other on the back. Extra holes had to be made, and one piece was hand-cut to fit in where a piece had broken. “You guys want sandwiches?”

“I’m actually starved,” T.J. said.

“I am too,” said Joe.

“You want to come in or eat outside?” Shannon asked.

The men looked at each other and shrugged. “Whatever’s easiest,” T.J. answered. “Makes no difference to us.”

She threw a wet towel at T.J., which caught him right across the kisser, eliciting a delicious pearly-white grin. She worked to restore her icy demeanor, but broke out in a brief laugh as she commanded, “Clean off the table and I’ll bring the food.”

Seated around the round glass-top table while they ate, the men continued to discuss their work. “You know, we work well together. No arguing or fighting. Kinda like working with the Team guys, like Frankie.” T.J. caught himself, sighed and fell back into his chair. “I’m sorry, Joe. Couldn’t seem to help myself.”

Shannon had thought the same thing. She’d seen Frankie doing things with his buds on Team 3, but even that held a healthy dose of swearing, jousting and horsing around. The mission was always accomplished, no matter how much irreverence there was. She also knew that Frankie could be sensitive and very stubborn. T.J., for all his bad-boy qualities, had remained more focused on the task once Joe overcame the two key obstacles.

Stop comparing. Not fair.

Why was she doing it, anyway? The baby kicked as she brought the dishes into the kitchen. Joe was right behind her, carrying the rest of them. “You know, it’s good to see you laughing again, Shannon,” he said as he set things on the counter. He slung an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her to him.

“Thanks, Dad.” She hugged him back. Then she placed one of his palms on her belly so he could feel the baby. “She wants to come out and play with you, Grandpa.”

Joe was overcome. “Ahhh,” he growled and wiped a tear from his eye. “She feels strong, Shannon. She does this a lot?”

“I have no comparison, but yes, I think she’s very active now.”

“That’s the way Frankie was. His mama wasn’t getting any sleep in the end.” He pinched her nose. “Make sure you rest up, kid. You’re going to need it.”

T.J. had come from the restroom and was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, bracing himself with one muscled arm pressed against the top of the archway, hips slung at an angle. Though he was a good ten feet away from them, Shannon could see a tinge of envy there, and she picked up that perhaps he was holding himself back.

“You want to feel the baby?” she asked him.

He shook his head with a small shrug.

“Oh, come on, T.J. Get yourself over here.” Joe stepped aside and Shannon walked slowly to meet T.J. halfway. Carefully he extended his palm, and she placed it against the lower right side of her belly. The warmth of his hand caused the baby to jump again, and they were rewarded with a kick and what felt like hiccups.

He stared at his hand, and she could see him soften and transform. When he looked up at her, she saw his need and his pain, which mirrored her own.

“Well, I’d best be going,” Joe barked, collecting his things.

T.J. took a step back and jammed his hands into his front pockets. “Yeah, I’ve got things I need to do, too. I’d say we did well, Joe. And Shannon, thanks for lunch and all the ice water.” His smile was gentle.

Joe and Shannon hugged, and then T.J. gave her a gentle embrace. Her belly rubbed against his lower abdomen, and she was surprised by a rush of intimacy. She felt T.J. hesitate to pull away. “You got anything else you need, give me a call, okay? I’m not as good as old Joe here with the hammer, but I can figure out most things.”

She found herself saying, “Thanks,” but felt the exchange was unfinished.

Joe was out the door with T.J. behind him when she decided to call, “T.J., there are a couple of things I think Frankie would want me to give you,” she said to his back. She saw him stiffen, saw him share a glance with her father-in-law, and then hesitate, holding the door open.

“Bye, you two,” Joe nodded and took off down the walkway with his toolkit.

T.J. closed the door behind him. Shannon suddenly felt awkward and shy about being alone with him. Something had shifted.

“We need to talk,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the living room and the brightly flowered overstuffed couch Frankie always said looked like it belonged in a hippie museum.

She sat an arm’s length away from T.J., curling one leg underneath her. It was getting harder and harder to find comfortable positions as her belly grew. Placing her arm along the back of the couch, she rested her head there at an angle and looked up at T.J., who was focused on her eyes and nothing else.

“I’ve been missing Frankie a lot today,” she said, looking away, unable to look at his face as she said it. Her shyness was coupled with a tiny shiver of danger, making her heart beat harder and sending the baby into another acrobatic routine.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispered. He placed his hand over hers on the back of the padded couch, and rubbed her fingers. She saw no smile on his honest face. He knew what she was feeling. “Come here, Shannon,” he barely whispered, waiting for her to make the next move.

She found herself leaning up against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, as his long fingers massaged the top of her spine and lazily dove into her hair, sending warm ripples from her scalp over the rest of her skin surface. Her arm had wrapped around his body, her other hand rubbing over his shoulder muscles. She was aware of his heat, the smell of him, which was all male, the sound of his breath as his chest rose and fell, the way her cheek felt pressed against the granite of his pecs. She allowed herself to wallow in the muskiness under his chin.

Then he tipped her face up to his, and he kissed her. Need sparked like a match in a dark room. How she’d missed the tender kiss and touch of a man! She’d told herself she needed to learn to live without it for now. But it flared up anyway.

She accepted his lips on hers, accepted his tongue that waited for an invitation before plunging into her mouth. It filled the vacant and hollow places of her loneliness. His moan flamed her passion, opening to him, and drawing him in deep. She was starving for him in every sense of the word. A tiny alarm bell off in the distance was ringing, but she put it out of her mind.

He kept one large, callused palm under her chin, rubbing her lips with his enormous thumb. His eyes were sharp with what she easily recognized as arousal, though he was masking it. He was also showing her a hint of something deeper.

He waited for her to speak, to give him an answer, put a label on what was happening between them. She’d been doing a lot of telling herself this and that, thinking about how she should feel, how she should be holding things in check, especially with the responsibility of carrying Frankie’s child.

But she discovered her body ached for T.J. Her own needs were relegated to the place of someday, and became paramount. She missed intimacy with Frankie, the way it was so obvious he loved being with her. She missed the way he enjoyed her body, the way their lives had entangled and grown like two distinctly different vines covering the same trellis.