Second Chance SEAL: The Girl He Left Behind (Sunset SEALs Book 2) Page 2

  “Fuck you, Renny. I seemed to remember you having trouble adjusting to your single life back in the day. I’m just out of practice, man. And for the record, if you tell another lady I’m getting divorced I’m going to take you down or pour sand in your fuckin’ bed. So lay off.”

  Renny was wiggling his eyebrows down to the other end of the table, connecting with some of Greg’s friends. “Suit yourself, but don’t be so touchy,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “It wasn’t your fault at all. All on her. A character flaw.”

  “So I’m discovering.” Damon shoveled more pancakes and chased them down with a newly refilled mug of black coffee.

  Several of the guys were telling stories about a recent fishing trip on the bay.

  “So all these guys are from LA then, or Florida?”

  “Some from LA, a couple guys from Sacramento, and Dieter over there is from Chicago, but he’s German. The guy at the end of the table is Greg’s brother, Brian. You want to keep your distance from that guy when he’s drunk.”

  “Anybody military or served?” Damon wanted to know.

  “Nah, I think it’s just you and me, Damon. Greg was going to try out, but he dropped, due to his eyes again.”

  Damon began to feel comfortable with the group. Nearly all of them appeared to be about thirty years of age, the same age as he and Renny.

  Greg leaned over and spoke directly to Damon. “I’m sort of on lockdown. Last year, one of Kaitlyn’s friends had a groom they sent to Alaska during his bachelor party, and he missed the wedding.”

  “Holy crap. We had a Team guy that happened to. Do you remember who that was, Renny?”

  “Yeah. Don’t remember his name. Never did get married to her, as I recall.” Renny shrugged, making a face to the groom.

  Greg shook his head. “Well, they had the party without the ceremony, and the bride and groom had to get married at the courthouse when he got back. But Kaitlyn didn’t want me to get any ideas.”

  “She sounds worried,” chuckled Renny.

  “Actually, it was her mother who made me promise every time I see her I won’t let it happen.” Greg gave a bright white grin to the two SEALs. “Like I said, I’m on lockdown. I love her, so I get to put up with this. I’m under strict orders. No strippers, no pole dancers, no naked orgies, and I have to come home on my own two feet, not carried.”

  “Shaken but not stirred,” whistled Renny.

  “Exactly.”

  Damon decided to mess with him a little bit. “So trannys and hookers are okay then?”

  Greg and most of his party erupted in laughter. He mimicked using a firearm. “Bingo.” And then he added, “He’s all right, Renny. You hangin’ out with us tonight? I like the way your mind works.”

  “Up to the kid here.” Renny pointed his thumb at Damon.

  “Sounds like fun. I got a few demons to exorcise. I might need some help with that,” answered Damon.

  “So I heard.”

  “Dammit, Renny. Who haven’t you told?” he spat back to his buddy.

  “That’s it, sport. My lips will be sealed from now on,” said Renny.

  “Then it’s settled.” Greg gave him a high-five. “Warning, Kaitlyn and some of her girlfriends are pretty distracting. I’d say it’s a good bet you’ll find what you’re looking for. And, if not, it will find you, for sure!”

  Damon was glad he’d packed one nice Aloha shirt and a long pair of jeans, even though it was warm. He wore his flip-flops. Renny drove them to the Crab Shack, which had a huge wraparound outdoor bar. Twinkle light-encrusted umbrellas decorated the tables. Instead of sawdust on the floor, like some of the haunts in San Diego, the patio was covered in crushed bleached white shells. He was getting used to the sound of the crunching beneath his feet.

  A small band played island tunes. In the corner, several kids played horseshoes and darts. Renny cruised by the outside bar, picked up two long-necked beers made at a microbrewery in Florida, handed one to Damon, and sauntered across the patio to a large group of men and ladies. Damon recognized Greg right away. Renny discovered Shannon sitting with a couple of her girlfriends. She greeted him warmly.

  Damon pulled on his beer and scanned the room. A few older couples hung to the outsides of the patio, but the center section was packed with men and women in their twenties and thirties. Some were dancing. Some, like in the group with Greg, were seated on picnic tables and stools, while some were eating dinner. The music was light and happy. The band had a steel drum, and the singer’s tenor voice was fresh and upbeat. The heat of the day was wearing off, beginning to turn nippy. He abandoned Renny, who was preoccupied with Shannon anyway.

  He stood at the fringes of a circle of men he recognized from his breakfast and tried to listen to their banter but found he couldn’t hear. When the band stopped, he finally caught a few words. They were talking about going fishing and football, just as Renny had told him they would.

  He noticed how pale his arms were in comparison to the other men he stood next to. He was going to have to fix that as soon as he could.

  A group of four ladies made their way over toward Greg and the other men.

  Damon felt like a teenager. Renny was right. He’d been married to Charlene for nearly four years, so he did feel rusty just going up to a lady and talking to her. Examining his hands, he noticed, to his horror, he’d left his wedding ring on, so he slipped it off and stored it in his front jeans pocket.

  He was examining how the pale spot on his 4th finger was such a telltale sign, just as Greg put his arm around him and began introducing him to the four new ladies. Each one was more beautiful than the previous one. Greg tried to get the attention of the fourth lady, who was watching Renny and Shannon. When she turned at Greg’s instruction, he recognized her immediately.

  His mouth became parched, his tongue nearly stuck to the roof. He worked on his composure. When their eyes met, her smile and the twinkle in her eyes instantly vanished.

  “And this little lady is Martel. She’s one of my bride’s best friends and a real Florida gal now, but she comes from Northern California too.”

  Damon couldn’t move.

  “I’m not sure she’s ever met a genuine Navy SEAL, Damon. I was hoping you’d make her first time memorable,” Greg whispered.

  Martel began a step backward and looked to the floor.

  “Whoa! Hold on there, little lady. He doesn’t bite,” the groom said. “Damon, say hello to Martel.”

  He knew exactly how her hand would feel as he shook it tentatively, which made him curse himself. He firmed up his handshake and vowed to act like an adult, for Chrissakes.

  She’d filled out nicely in the nearly ten years since they’d last seen each other. Her dark hair hung long over her shoulders, even though he tried not to gawk. He knew she had a diamond stud in her belly button because he’d kissed that darned thing dozens of times. He inhaled, which was another stupid idea. Her familiar scent filled him with all the memories of their fledgling romance when she was so new to sex. After all these years, he still felt the guilt of taking her virginity from her just before he ran away to his enlistment. It was something he was forever ashamed of. He’d used her. And he’d never forget the look on her face when he did it.

  Ever since, he’d tried to brush it aside and couldn’t. It wasn’t just the guilt, but something else he couldn’t put his finger on. Something dangerous, just like those reminders of how he’d awakened her with soft kisses to her abdomen. And, he’d wondered just about every day whatever had happened to her. In his string of romances and one-night stands, she was the one girl, if he ever saw her again, he wanted to apologize to. It didn’t age well, either. His thirty-year-old self now understood the depth of the violation he’d caused to this gentle soul who’d been so avid to please him. He’d been too dumb and stupid to understand it at the time.

  She looked like an angel. Maybe not quite as wholesome as she did when she was not-yet-twenty, but an angel all the same.

  S
he glanced up at him briefly and then lowered her eyes again, examining her toes.

  Greg had been watching the two of them and their strange interaction. Damon knew the groom had a sharp radar. He wasn’t helpful. “Damon here is—”

  “Don’t. Just don’t, will you?” he barked at Greg, his voice sharp, stopping the groom from blabbing about his upcoming divorce. He made a mental note to have that private conversation with his new friend, even if it got him disinvited to the wedding.

  “Okay, okay. Well, I’ll leave you to get acquainted then,” Greg said, chuckling and shaking his head as he left in search of the bar.

  She wasn’t going to look at him, but the awkwardness had to be filled. He sucked it up.

  “Hi, Martel. Well, this is a surprise,” his voice cracked, annoying him. He was an idiot to continue to hold her hand, so he dropped it quickly.

  “No kidding. A SEAL, huh?” she said as she quickly studied his face and then cast her eyes downward again. “So you made it. I always thought you would.” She continued to study her pink toes. He vaguely remembered her toes used to turn him on a bunch too.

  Christ! Get a grip.

  “Yeah, well, some guys do dumb things. I’m a sucker for getting blown up and jumping out of airplanes. It suited me after all.” He shrugged. “Who knew?”

  “Makes perfect sense,” she said as she let her chocolate eyes fall on his face. He noted a bit of hardness there she was trying to mask.

  Of course, why wouldn’t she be mad, hurt or both?

  He used to get lost in her chocolate brown eyes and was leaning toward her in spite of himself.

  “I—I don’t know what to say, Martel.” The truth was, he had a lot to say, but he didn’t want to say it. Then he noticed she had broken out in a sweat, little beads of perspiration hovering in the fine hairs above her upper lip. Her ample chest, alluringly helped by some undergarment that was completely invisible, developed reddish marks he knew to be from nerves. She was shaking like the first time he’d kissed her—her first real man kiss, not like the boys she was used to. He’d never told her he had been as scared as she was when he did it.

  He cursed his insides, his courage failing him. This was not at all the way he expected to react when he saw her again.

  “You look the same. Older, more muscles, Damon, but the same. Your face is harder.” She stumbled on her next words. “I wasn’t prepared for this.” She squinted as if the sound of her own voice stung her.

  “Yes. What are the odds?” He knew it was stupid. Completely stupid. He shook out his hands at his sides.

  “Martel—”

  What was he going to tell her? Was his fucking apology going to just spring out like his dick did sometimes? All he would do was violate her all over again. He hated that thought too.

  “Damon, I’m not feeling very well. It was nice seeing you again.”

  She was lying, but she was brave. Her hand stuck out, and he did the gentlemanly thing. He accepted the shake.

  “Yes, it was nice. You look great, Martel. You really do.”

  He knew it sounded like a consolation prize. He just couldn’t get the right words. He hadn’t had enough alcohol to get loosened up.

  She glared at him and turned to go, after extracting her hand forcefully.

  Brian, the groom’s brother, approached before she uttered her final good-byes. He grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face him. Damon didn’t like the way his hands were too familiar with her.

  “Martel, remember, you promised me a dance?” he said.

  “Oh, thanks, but I’m not feeling well and was just leaving.”

  “Nonsense! I’m not taking no for an answer,” Brian insisted, winking at Damon.

  Damon wasn’t laughing, and neither was Martel.

  Before she could protest, Brian had pulled her onto the dance floor, where his arms wrapped around her tiny waist like an octopus. With fucking suction cups. Brian drew her into his intimate space, her body pressed hard against his, as he moved her around the dance floor in full control and for his own pleasure, not hers.

  All Damon was able to do was watch the two of them. Had he just missed his shot to defend her? To demonstrate he was a better man today than way back then?

  He thought perhaps he had.

  But no mission ever worked out exactly as they planned, something he’d learned during the years of training and the deployments to unstable parts of the world. He was more prepared now for the unexpected. He also understood he was being given the chance to right the wrong he’d done to her, if she’d let him.

  She didn’t look for him when the dance was completed but walked straight to the pretty lady in the hot pink dress he guessed was the bride. They hugged and kissed and then Martel slipped inside the building and was gone from sight.

  He’d been lukewarm about attending the wedding. Seeing Martel again had never been part of the plan. But suddenly, he knew there wasn’t anything in the world that could keep him away.

  Chapter 2

  Martel climbed into her red Fiat, but before starting the engine, she laid her forehead against the padded steering wheel.

  Why? Why now?

  She’d spent the past five years proving to herself that moving clear across the country to Florida was the best way to forget him. She’d finally gotten to the stage where she didn’t look for him in a crowd.

  Why was it all coming back again?

  He’d hurt her. He’d mishandled the trust she placed in him, dashing off to chase dragons and never once coming back to Sonoma County to even attempt to look her up. Not that she was waiting for him. She would never trust a man again like she’d trusted him. Never.

  It left her certain she could not rely on her own instincts when it came to men. And here, tonight, as angry as she’d told herself she was vowing some kind of satisfying revenge for his despicable behavior, it was damned hard to pull away. But she had to. She’d never stoop that low or let him see the pain he’d caused. Admit the gallons of tears she’d shed before she learned to live with the fact that she’d never see him again. The emotional rollercoaster in the aftermath of his sudden leaving and the vacancy he left behind made her feel like he’d robbed her twice.

  Yes, it was all his fault.

  It was painful to recall the year she spent along the Oregon coast, staying with new friends until she could bring herself to get back in school. She got her teaching credential nearby in a small town close to Medford and considered settling in a little town near McMinnville where her mother had gone to school. The days were pleasant and the nights cold, but after having difficulty finding anything other than a preschool teacher or daycare worker, even with her Masters’, she took fill-in teaching assignments, hoping to be hired for something larger than a twenty or thirty percent job-sharing situation. And then one day, she watched a TV program about the beaches and sunshine in Florida—a place as far away from that tough year in Oregon as she could travel.

  The Gulf was to be her second chance. She told herself every day it was her lifeline. The old hurts of the past would just disappear with each swim in the bay, with every walk on the beach, and with the inhale of the calming sea breeze. She was restored, refreshed, her lungs filled with freedom and future, and she found that strong, successful, and confident woman she always knew she was.

  But here Damon was, inserting himself into her life again. By accident. Not on purpose, which was the real problem with it all.

  Her body was glad to see him even if her heart was sore and bleeding and her brain screaming ‘Run! Run away now!’

  If she wasn’t in Kaitlyn’s wedding party, she’d do what her brain was trying to convince her was the only way to protect herself. But her fellow teacher and friend, who had helped nurse her back and been there while she cried herself dry, deserved more than her desertion. Kaitlyn was one of those women who showed empathy and compassion without knowing every detail of her life’s drama. She was grateful for her kindness and patience. And for her discretion no
t to pry where she wasn’t welcome. Some things just couldn’t be said, maybe ever.

  Martel was dreading the wedding and the reception now more than anything else she’d ever done. Maybe she could talk to Greg or whisper to Brian that she didn’t want Damon there. Let the men in their circle of friends handle it for her. Or maybe it would be best to just tackle it head-on and tell him how uncomfortable she was around him.

  Martel sighed, raising her head to watch couples walk from the restaurant hand in hand. Her beautiful dress and the makeup and hair appointments she was so looking forward to indulging herself in were just pieces of equipment to prepare herself for battle. If she collapsed, if she let him take away this too, she knew she’d regret it the rest of her life. And maybe she should just let him have what he so richly deserved—a boiling well-crafted piece of her mind. A sharp, pointy end of her opinion she could hurl like a spear. She could do it publicly, if she had to. As long as it didn’t ruin Kaitlyn and Greg’s wedding.

  She drove home, following along the little two-lane freeway, the vein in the archipelago along the beach cities of Madeira Beach, Treasure Island, St. Pete’s, and Sunset Beach until she reached her beach bungalow, her refuge. She threw her purse and keys on the kitchen table, kicked off her shoes, and walked through her tiny living room to the sliding glass door and the beach beyond. The white sand looked almost fluorescent in the moonlight. The moon was doing a fan dance with big puffy clouds hinting at some midnight rain like a Rubenesque model.

  As long as the sun came up tomorrow, like in the musical score, everything would be okay. The beach had a way of healing the impossibly wounded.

  It was too cool for a midnight walk on the beach, but she threw her grandmother’s quilt around her shoulders, donned her pajamas and ran all the way to the surf, letting the frigid water spray up her legs and get the flannel wet.

  With her hair blowing in her face, she kicked sand into the shallow tide with her toes, first the right and then the left. She felt pieces of shells beneath her feet and stooped, putting a handful in her pants pockets then throwing them two or three at a time into the spray. With darkness shrouding her, she lost her balance and fell to her knees just before the surf showed up to dutifully attempt to wash her back out to sea.