“Not so much leaving me alone, more about talking about things I’m agreeable to.”
“Food is okay to talk about, but anything personal is off-limits?” I ask. “Where I come from, it’s rude to be in male company without a buffer. I don’t even know you, other than you want to take my airport from me. I feel like you should offer me something of substance.” I light the pilot on my oven and pull out two plates from above the sink. Tyler’s gaze pierces through me. “Or you can stand there and stare at me like a creep,” I add on, opening the drawer for the silverware I’ll need.
I feel him then, his body heat against my back. Tyler smells like dried sweat and a faint hint of sweetness mixed with paint. I swallow hard.
“I told you I’m not a gentleman, Caroline. I don’t play by the rules. For me, there are no rules, just what I want and what you’re willing to give me.”
I spin to face him, and I lose my breath. He looms large, his massive chest at eye level, his crystal blue eyes challenging me—taunting me. “You can’t have my airport,” I say.
Tyler throws his head back and laughs, his muscular neck widening and rippling as I watch in awe. “Whatdo you want to know?” he asks when he finally stops laughing.
Folding my arms across my chest, I ask, “Are you making fun of me?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not at all.” Backing away from me, he releases me from his masculine spell. How confusing, how embarrassing.
“Tell me the basics. Where are you from, your family, you know? Typical things friends discuss.”
“You said you weren’t my friend.” Tyler tilts his head to the side, hitting me with a smarmy grin.
My stomach flips, and my heart rattles against my chest. He saves me from responding by humming briefly. “I am the product of the Navy. My dad served, and we moved all over the world while I was growing up. The longest time I’ve ever been somewhere was when I lived in San Diego, after I became a SEAL. The Teams gave me my first true home. The brotherhood provided me with the only siblings I’ll ever have. My dad is retired now, and he and my mom live in Northern California.” Tyler pauses. “I visit them every once in a while, but they know my life. They respect my decision, so they’re less needy than other families.” He leans against the counter with one large hand, his fingers tracing the edge of the white marble.
I swallow, surprised by his honesty. “You weren’t lying about traveling everywhere, were you?”
He laughs, shakes his head, and then leans his back against the spot where his hand just was.
“No girlfriend then? You’d be rolling paint at her house if you had one.”
Biting his lip, he blinks slowly. “Well played,” he replies. “I saw how the military broke families. I’ve avoided as many relationships as I possibly could because of that firsthand knowledge.” His face changes then. Almost like the guard he keeps in place wilted a touch by telling me something personal. I can tell he wasn’t lying before, he doesn’t talk about this kind of stuff. “I like to keep things simple now.” He drums his fingers on the stone behind him.
After an awkward pause, he tells me a story about how as a young child he rode a subway alone to school when he was in Japan. I marvel at his tale. With my interest, he continues to tell me tales of his amazing life. His bravery transcends that which most would label brave. His stories are surreal given my limited experience with traveling. He can tell I’m eating up every word because he keeps talking, keeps my mind spinning. Sometimes he uses his arms when he talks, and he reminds me of Thor or some WWE wrestler because he looks so big in here—like maybe a horse or a bear found its way into a house by accident.
I serve the salads on large plates and set them on the table. He watches me move, and I’m a little less self-conscious as time passes. I still hate him and what he stands for, but I guess he’s not the most horrible of company. Especially when he’s telling me cool stories.
“Grab a couple napkins from the holder behind you,Tahoe, and give me a month to decide,”I say almost on an impulse, trying my best to keep a grin off my face.
He nods, turns, grabs the napkins, and smiles, his face aimed at the floor, all the way to the table.
FOUR
Tahoe
The water is so fuckingclear and warm compared to the West Coast. Diving is much easier when that’s the case. In order to keep up on my dive qualification and get paid for it, I have to do a major dive every so often. Today, the lot of us went out and did a dive with full gear. I’m always surprised by how tired I am after a long day of diving. While I’m suspended in the water, my flippers on, it’s like I’m as light as a feather. I’m at peace in the water, a quality that most SEALs have, but some don’t. Some hate the fucking water with a passion. They are the ones that struggle through BUD/S training, and only the strongest will make it through. It’s the end of the day, and our sleek, matte gray boat is carrying us across the glassy water back to our docks.
As we pull closer, I see her sitting on one of the old wooden docks to the left, tan legs a mile long, bare feet kicking the water back and forth. She sees us, but she doesn’t see me—can’t distinguish who is who while we’re all wearing the same black wetsuits and gear. Shebrings a hand up to shield her eyes from the setting sun as she seeks me out.
“Your puppy looks lost, Tahoe,” my teammate Aidan remarks, mirth tainting his observation.
I shake my head as I walk up the deck of the boat, dripping water as I go. “Aren’t dogs supposed to obey?”
“Puppies don’t. They chew up everything in sight for months. My buddy got a lab, and that thing ate the legs off a goddamn table!” he replies. It’s like a light switch with most of us. We’re finished working. Now we can talk about dogs, puppies, and beautiful, unnerving women who sit on docks. I merely shake my head at his analogy.
“Leash trained, then. Job well done, Tah,” my friend says. It’s a joke meant to make me laugh, but it makes my empty stomach swirl with unease. I’ve never been around a woman quite like Caroline before. I thought the innocence was a front, a gimmick to make a man interested. I tested it a few times and came on to her hardcore—full-on Tahoe wants to fuck—but while her body responded—her cheeks pinked, her breathing harried, and her eyes widened—she didn’t act on it. No, she wasn’t sure what to do with any of it.
“Shut up, bro. She doesn’t do what I say. She doesn’t do anything I want,” I remark, sliding the shoulders on the wetsuit down. On second thought, I make a snap decision to lie. I tell him how she sucks amazing dick. We’re grown men, and yet I feel the urge to hide the fact I’m spending so much time with a woman in a platonic way. Like maybe they’ll realize I really am truly fucked up and belong in Florida instead of in San Diego with mybest buddies. San Diego Tahoe would have a different meaningless brunette every day of the week.
He leans against me as he shimmies his own wetsuit down, like a sticky second skin. “Ah, so the truth is finally freed. All it took was a little Souther dime piece to tell you no snakes in the grass. I’ll write it in my calendar,” he growls, lowering his voice as we approach said dime piece. His sentiment isn’t entirely untrue. She’s not telling me no for the reason he thinks. Caroline isn’t answeringanyof my questions.
I catch her eye, finally, and she smiles, her pink lips tilting to one side. “Don’t bust my balls. Caroline does that enough for ten people. She owes me a decision today,” I remark, aiming my words his way. Checking my watch, I confirm it’s been exactly a month today. A month of me trying to get a read on her, thirty days of trying to get into her pants, two fortnights and two days of challenge and entertainment, of house projects and laughs and stupid arguments.
