He hadn’t been much help to Nick back then due to the demands of his job. Luke had flown home for the funeral, but he hadn’t been able to stay in Mistletoe for long. But now he had nothing but time on his hands to spend with his two favorite people in the world. He meant to make the most of it. Being back in Mistletoe allowed Luke to finally relax, even if he wasn’t used to this way of life. Rebuilding his life in Maine was way less harrowing than conducting special op missions and placing himself and his SEAL team in harm’s way.
For the moment he could bask in spending time with Nick and Miles. Maybe being with his family would help him heal emotionally from what had happened over in Afghanistan. Maybe if he tried really hard, he could forget that his actions had gotten two members of his SEAL team killed.
Chapter Three
Sleeping in was definitely underrated, Stella realized. It was downright decadent. Walking around her house in her undies and a Spelman College T-shirt felt completely liberating. She’d just devoured scrambled eggs, hickory-flavored bacon, and blueberry waffles smothered in maple syrup for a nice brunch. She’d washed it all down with a Long Island iced tea to celebrate her first day of summer vacation. After placing her dishes in the dishwasher, Stella made her way to the living room and plopped down on her comfy gray couch. She’d been starving, but now she felt absolutely stuffed. Her eyes had been way bigger than her stomach.
She began rubbing her belly just as her dog, Coco Chanel, began scratching at the back door. Stella shut her eyes and tried to ignore it. She’d just taken her out a half hour ago. It figured she was making a fuss and whining. Her miniature poodle was high-maintenance and a true diva. Although Stella loved her to pieces, she felt completely wrapped around Coco Chanel’s little paw.
With a groan she got up and walked to the kitchen, where her poodle was sitting at the door and looking up at her with her big brown eyes. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the message Coco Chanel was sending to Stella. Whatever Coco Chanel wanted, Coco Chanel got.
“Okay, I heard you. I get it,” she grumbled. “You better not be yanking my chain. Didn’t you get the memo? I’m on vacation.”
Stella opened the back door, which led to a small patch of yard fenced in by a white gate. Once you left the property, the beach was steps away. Stella could smell the briny aroma of the sea from her back patio, and it always served as a reminder of her good fortune. Living on the beach was the gift that kept giving. Coco Chanel scampered outside and sprinted toward the small bush in the side yard. Stella sat down in a patio chair and inhaled deeply as a slight breeze swept over her. She would relax for a few minutes while Coco Chanel did her business. Sun, sea, sand. In the distance she could see sailboats and a few wind surfers. The weather was heating up and people were taking advantage of it. Pretty soon the water would be warm enough for swimming, which was one of Stella’s favorite pastimes. She couldn’t wait to run headlong into the ocean in her new salmon-colored bathing suit.
Stella sat up with a jerk as she saw a white blob of curly hair sashaying away from the yard.
She jumped up from her chair and howled. “Nooooooo!” Somehow her poodle had found a way out of her fenced-in yard and was now on the loose.
Coco Chanel loved to take off at lightning speed and run across the long stretch of beach until she was exhausted. There wasn’t a single hope of Stella catching up with her unless Coco Chanel stopped running. Because her dog was so small, Stella always had to worry about her making her way into the road. Stella wrenched open the gate and began jogging down the beach in sand that felt like quicksand. Her feet couldn’t seem to get any traction, and it felt like she was running in place. Within seconds, Stella realized trying to run was futile.
At first Stella thought it might be a mirage brought on by the heat and her panic. A shirtless man was running on the beach, heading her way. Abs of steel. Sweat glistening on his perfect torso. He was coming toward her with Coco Chanel in his arms. She let out a sob of relief that quickly turned to disgust. Her snobby, fickle poodle was licking this man’s golden-brown arm as if they were the best of buddies.
Hold up. This wasn’t just any man sprinting in her direction. It was Luke! And he was looking finer than ever.
“Hey, Stella. Is she yours?” Luke asked when he came within a few feet of her.
Holy Hotness.He wasn’t even panting hard. Meanwhile, Stella was completely out of breath and feeling as if her chest might explode from her pathetic attempt at running. She didn’t want to stare, but she thought he might have an eight pack.
“Yes, she’s mine,” Stella said after a brief pause, reaching out to pluck Coco Chanel from his arms. Her fingers grazed Luke’s torso and she sucked in a steadying breath. His skin was silky soft but his stomach was hard as a rock. It had been a long time since she’d been in such proximity to a man, let alone one who looked this fine.
“Naughty dog,” she scolded. Coco Chanel gazed at her with a calm look that served as a slap in the face for all the mayhem she’d caused. “Don’t look at me with those big brown eyes of yours. You scared me to death.”
“She’s a runner, huh?” Luke asked. “She was moving pretty fast.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” she said, forcing herself to look away from his extremely kissable lips. What was wrong with her? Combined with the heat, Luke’s presence was making her a little loopy.
“Umm. Did you forget something?” Luke’s gaze lowered to her legs. He took a moment to drink her in before dragging his eyes back up to meet hers. He was clearly trying to hide a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. And what a nice mouth it was, Stella thought for the gazillionth time.
All of a sudden it dawned on her that she hadn’t put any pants on before she’d fled her yard in pursuit of Coco Chanel. The oversized T-shirt covered all of her unmentionables, but she still felt like an idiot. She must have looked ridiculous running down the beach with her arms flapping like a pelican and showcasing an ample amount of leg and thigh. All because of her spoiled and undisciplined pooch. She tugged at her T-shirt, trying to pull it down farther so she wouldn’t run the risk of flashing too much skin. The fabric wouldn’t cooperate and didn’t budge an inch.
“I was in a rush trying to catch Coco Chanel,” she explained. “When she takes off like this I always worry that she’ll run into the road.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you say Coco Chanel?”
“That’s her name,” Stella said. “She’s a French poodle so I thought it was fitting. It was either that or Marie Antoinette. And we all know how that ended.” Stella sighed and bent her head down to place a kiss on the poodle’s temple. No matter how badly Coco Chanel acted, Stella ended up forgiving her. She would go to the moon and back for her pampered pooch.
Luke made a face. “That’s…different. I don’t think I’ve ever known a dog with two names.”
“Poodles are one of a kind,” Stella said as she shifted Coco Chanel onto her hip and winced. Sprinting had caused an uncomfortable stitch in her side. She was trying to play it off and not let Luke see how out of shape she was. A ridiculously fit Navy SEAL wouldn’t be able to relate to her situation. He could probably bounce quarters off his abs while she could barely make it through a Zumba class.
He drew his brows together. “Are you all right? You seem a little…winded.”
“I am,” she admitted. “I’m not used to doing the one-hundred-yard dash on wet sand.”
“Running on sand is tough, but it makes for a great workout.”
If he weren’t so cute, Stella might want to push him in the ocean. But with his rock-solid chest and abs of steel, Stella doubted she could swing it.
