“Challenge accepted and mission success.”
“This wasn’t a challenge,” Fly snapped. “You smuggled them into the cart while I was getting steaks!”
“Exactly,” Shamrock said, like he was proud of himself. “A stealth op. Executed with precision and flair.”
Bailee pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle the laugh bubbling up. “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “This is your life now?”
Bear grunted, but she saw the edge of a smile in the curve of his mouth. “They’re a handful,” he said.
“They’re a riot,” she said softly, more to herself than to him, and she meant it. They were so much more than SEALs in the making.
They were Bear’s choice to speak his wisdom, his knowledge, his truth.
Shamrock, of course, kept unloading chips like nothing in the world could possibly be more important.
Bailee stepped forward slowly, her sling still snug against her shoulder, and offered a small smile.
“Hi. Thanks for doing the grocery shopping and all my chores. Sorry for the reception when you got here. I was out of sorts.”
Fly was the first to respond, nodding stiffly.
“Ma’am. Good to see you upright.” His voice was controlled, but his eyes flicked toward Bear briefly. Checking. Measuring.
Bailee’s smile widened.
Than stepped forward next, offering a respectful nod and a hand she didn’t expect but gladly took.
“No need to apologize,” he said. “You were pretty out of it last time. Glad you’re better.”
His grip was warm. Solid.
He reminded her of Bear, not in size, but in gravity.
Shamrock bounded forward last, one hand over his heart and a ridiculous grin on his face. “I might be a BUD/S candidate, mission snack procurement specialist, part-time chip pirate, but helping you was a mission worth taking.”
Bailee blinked. “I…don’t know what that means.”
“It means he’s the reason we have eight bags of chips and a deficit of actual groceries,” Fly muttered.
“You wound me,” Shamrock said, dramatically. “But don’t worry. I only steal for causes I believe in.”
Bailee laughed softly, her heart doing something strange and warm in her chest. She looked back at Bear, who leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the interaction like he couldn’t decide whether to be proud or irritated.
“They really are baby SEALs,” she whispered, teasing.
Bear’s brow lifted. “I heard that.”
“They’re adorable. In a dangerous, could-blow-up-a-country kind of way.”
Bear chuckled. “They are at that.”
She felt that deep down. The way he said it. Claiming more like a mentor and less like an instructor.
The moment settled, that awkward haze of getting reacquainted giving way to something softer. Something real.
Fly shifted, then reached into one of the bags and pulled out a small, neatly folded brown paper sack. He didn’t say anything right away, just walked over and held it out to her.
“This is for you,” he said simply. “It’s nothing big. Just thought it might help.”
