A SEAL's Fantasy (22 page)

“I’m not a serious-relationship type of guy,” he said instead. “Military, SEAL. That just doesn’t scream committed relationship, you know.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve read the stats. I’ve played designated driver plenty of times for guys who are drowning their heartbreak. Military and marriage, it’s not a great mix,” Dominic pointed out. His gaze landed on the ring Lane wore when he was off duty, making him wince. “Not knocking you, buddy. Genna is amazing, you guys are great together. I’m just...”

“Scared?”

Fury flashed. Dominic’s fist swung before his brain engaged.

Shit.

He realized what he was doing an inch before he made contact with Brody’s face. At the same time, his friend’s hand whipped out.

His hand wrapped over Dominic’s fist, Brody arched one brow, then gave a slow, pitying shake of his head.

“You pulled that, Auntie. You throw a punch, you better put a little more effort into it. Otherwise you’ll end up flat on your ass.”

“I remembered at the last second that I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Brody laughed. “Right, you go ahead and tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

Dominic yanked his hand away, resisting the urge to shake off the sting. Hard to believe the guy had been out on medical leave a few months back. He had a grip like a vise.

“Landon takes a dim view of fighting among the ranks,” Dominic added, knowing it was lame but figuring it was better than admitting he’d lost his cool.

He never lost his cool.

Something else to blame Lara for.

Right along with his poor sleeping, lousy appetite and nonexistent sex drive. At least, as it applied to other women. In the month since Lara left, he’d had plenty of sexually driven thoughts about her. But the second he considered taking those thoughts elsewhere? Nada. It was unmanning how fast he went from firm to fail.

“Damn, Bad Ass, you suck at consoling,” he said, feeling crappier than he had before he’d beat the hell out of the punching bag.

“Next time we play five-card stud,” Brody muttered as they both turned toward the door.

“What’m I missing?” Genius asked, sauntering into the gym.

“Auntie here is sharing his wisdom on the topic of doom and gloom as it befits the military and marriage,” Brody told Masters with a grin.

Hell.

Dominic dropped to the bench, resisting the urge to drop his head into his hands, as well.

Dominic stared at those hands instead, surprised to see the knuckles scraped bloody. He glanced at the bag, wondering how long he’d been punching without feeling a thing.

“You ever worry that you’re gonna disappoint?” he asked quietly. “That you’re in this relationship that makes you feel good—light and happy, you know? But that you’re chaining her to something that’s not.”

“Not what?” Brody asked.

“You think we carry a heavy load with our job, that we work in the dark, that it dims that light?” Masters said, that genius brain of his getting the metaphor.

Dominic shrugged. He didn’t like this asking for advice thing. He was the go-to guy. The one with the answers.

Having to ask someone else just wasn’t right.

Neither was depending on someone else to be there. Wishing someone would take on the craziness of his career and want to stick around.

“How do you guys do it?” he asked, the desire to find a way to make it work overcoming his frustration.

Masters and Brody exchanged glances, both looking equally uncomfortable. That made Dominic feel better for some reason.

“You just do it,” Brody mumbled, kicking at the weight bench. “You know, if it matters, you make it work.”

“You figure it out, that’s all,” Masters said with a shrug, looking around the gym as if it’d recently been decorated with pictures of naked chicks.

“How?” Equally curious and starting to enjoy his friends’ discomfort, Dominic leaned back. “Seriously. You love your ladies enough to commit, right? So how do you balance it? How do you keep from feeling that you’re screwing them over?”

Damn.

He grimaced, irritated that he’d let his amusement loosen his mouth. That wasn’t the kind of thing he meant to share. Hell, that wasn’t the kind of thing he even wanted to admit to himself.

But neither of them looked confused, surprised or even amused at the question. They both looked deadly serious. Thankfully, neither started spouting crap about quality time, unconditional love or, God forbid, sexting for long-distance fun.

“Don’t ask me,” Brody said, lifting both hands. “I tried to quit once and she damn near threw beer bottles at my head. Genna says she’s proud of what I do. I think that helps.”

“Sage had a chance to play the quit card with me. She wouldn’t do it, though,” Masters added, his expression proud. As if his lady had done something amazing.

And she had, Dominic figured. Both of them had a shot at marrying a normal guy, one who was around most days and nights. One who didn’t have
top secret
written over half his career.

Would Lara feel that way?

He tried to imagine Lara saying she was proud of him, but the image just wouldn’t compute. Had she ever indicated that she was proud of him? Pretty much her only reference to his career had been when she’d been cussing at him for dragging her out of her apartment.

Somehow Dominic just couldn’t picture her as a sweet little stay-at-home military wife, doing tea and bingo in base housing with the other wives.

“You guys got lucky,” he told them with a rough smile.

“You sound like you don’t think you’d have the same luck,” Brody observed.

“It’s not his luck he’s doubting. It’s my sister.”

Dominic barely contained his groan as he got to his feet.

Could this day get any worse?

As one, the three men turned to the door. Brody whistled under his breath while Masters gave a pitying shake if his head.

“You’re hooked on his sister?” Brody muttered.

“Dude,” Masters chided with a laugh.

“Castillo?”

“Sir?” Dominic returned, automatically shifting to attention.

Banks tilted his head toward the door.

Masters paused long enough to give Dominic a punch to the arm, Brody offered a pat on the back, then they were both smoke. Banks had that effect on people.

Dominic jerked his shoulders, shaking off the automatic battle tension. The guy had a right to voice his thoughts when it came to his sister.

“You have a minute?”

Frowning, Dominic nodded. It wasn’t the request that confused him. It was that Banks would make it. He wasn’t known for asking. Or chatting, for that matter.

“Sure. You here to chime in on the chances of a military guy having a lasting relationship?’

“Of course not.”

“You’re not going to offer me advice?”

“Me?” If Dominic had asked him for a kiss smack on the lips, Banks couldn’t have looked more shocked. “Hardly. Besides, I thought advice was your forte.”

“Advice takes one of two things,” Dominic observed. “Experience or objectivity. This is a situation in which I have neither.”

“Well, don’t look at me.” For the first time, Banks didn’t seem like a windup military machine. The guy appeared so seriously horrified that Dominic had to laugh.

“Okay, so if you’re not here to offer advice, what’s up?”

“I want to talk to you about Lara.”

Dominic’s smile faded. He widened his stance, just in case.

“Landon takes a dim view of fighting among the ranks,” he pointed out for the second time that hour.

Not that that’d stop him. He figured he owed Banks a few brotherly obligation shots. And he wouldn’t mind taking a couple of his own. Nothing personal, but the guy had been a witness to Lara dumping him. A few gut shots might soothe the ole ego.

“Why do you think I’d be looking for a fight?” Banks asked. He didn’t sound obnoxious or confrontational. Nope, just curious. The man was a mystery.

“Lara?” Dominic left it at that. If the guy didn’t have his own list, he wasn’t stupid enough to provide one.

“I’m pretty sure if my sister wants your ass kicked, she’d prefer—and is totally capable of—doing it herself.”

“Yeah, she is.” The woman was seriously built and damned strong. And he knew for a fact that she could—and would—fight dirty.

“You know, I’m not here to take you down, but you start thinking lusting thoughts about her while I’m standing right here in front of you and I might change my mind,” Banks mused.

“Fair enough. I’ll save my lusting thoughts for later,” Dominic said with a grin. Damned if the guy wasn’t kinda funny.

“You do that. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what you’re planning?”

“I thought you weren’t here to offer advice.”

“That sounded like a question to me.”

Dominic squinted.

“Are you asking my intentions?”

He waited for the laugh. He got a nod.

Holy crap.

“Okay, I get that you’re within your rights as a brother, but seriously? The first time you talked to her in eight years was a month ago. Do you think Lara would appreciate you sticking your nose in her business?”

“That’d be between her and me, wouldn’t it?”

“And this is between her and
me.
”

“No. You met her through my situation.” Banks’s pause was infinitesimal, his wince barely there. But when Dominic caught it, his fury fled. The guy had been through hell and his hell had almost caught his sister. He had every right to be angry. “You brought her here, you orchestrated a meet between us. That makes this between her and you and me.”

“Okay. So what do you want me to say?” Dominic asked. “That I’m sorry? That I made a mistake? Or that I’m crazy about your sister?”

All of which were true.

“Nope. Like I said, I’m not here to offer advice. I’m just warning you—don’t fuck with my sister. She’s got a chance to start over now. If you choose to be a part of that new beginning, you’d damned well better plan on being a long-term part. You don’t plan on sticking it out, then let it go.”

Dominic wanted to protest the ultimatum. He wanted to ask if the guy knew where Lara was, how she was doing. He wanted details on this new beginning and where she’d be making it.

But he was still stuck on the fact that uptight, upright Lieutenant Banks, code name, Sir, Yes, Sir, had just said
fuck.

It was mind-boggling.

Banks didn’t wait for a response, though. Message delivered, the guy was done. With a nod, he stuck his cap back on his head, executed a smooth about-face and strode out of the room.

Leaving Dominic with one inescapable fact: he and Lara were either over for good, or he’d better man up, admit his feelings and figure out if he could handle them.

He sank back onto the bench, his shoulders sagging and his head throbbing.

He sorta wished Banks had belted him in the face instead.

13

D
OMINIC STORMED UP
the path to his cabin, wondering how many new levels of pissed he could reach before his head simply exploded.

He’d wasted two days of his leave on a wild-goose chase, then gotten his ass chewed out by his brother for not returning the truck sooner, then by his mother for missing so many of the wedding festivities.

That’s why he was pissed, he told himself.

He didn’t like being bitched at. When he’d told Lucas that, his brother had taken his truck keys and advised him to walk his sorry self home. The only reason Dominic hadn’t planted his fist in Lucas’s face was that their mother had been standing there, nodding.

He dug into his pocket for the remote to disarm the alarm, then stomped up the steps.

His hand on the doorknob, he stopped.

Emotions slammed into him, the images of the last time he’d been home flying through his head in mocking clarity.

Lara.

Damn.

Where the hell was she?

He’d gone back to Reno. She didn’t work at the casino, she didn’t live at the apartment, she didn’t attend the school.

He’d called Lucas a dozen times, asking him to run her, but apparently big brother was too busy.

He’d even called Banks, who’d straight up laughed.

Nobody could—or would—tell him where Lara was.

He shoved the door open, determined to pull strings and tap one of his cousins to run her when Lucas wasn’t around.

Just inside the cabin, he stopped short.

The scent hit him first, an instant turn-on with floral overtones.

Then he saw her.

Lounging on his couch, looking comfortable and happy.

And so damned good.

Lara?

What the hell?

“What are you doing here?”

She didn’t seem surprised to see him. If anything, her expression was satisfied enough to cross over into smug.

“Visiting,” Lara said, crossing one stocking-clad foot over the other. “Your mom figured I’d be more comfortable here than up at the house.”

“My mom...”

“Yeah. Your grandma sent down enough food to turn me into a beach ball, though. So I’ve been going to the gym with Celia. Matteo is going to teach me to ride horses, too, but I didn’t figure that’d compensate for homemade tortillas.”

“You took over my house? My family?” He’d looked everywhere for her, and she was right here? He’d driven for twelve straight hours, gotten a speeding ticket and been hit on by a redhead named Flo whose age was somewhere between fifty and a well-preserved ninety. He’d been frantic, sure he’d lost Lara for good. Sure he’d ruined the best thing in his life he wasn’t positive he wanted.

All the time, she’d been here.

His head was spinning. Dominic didn’t know if he should grab her, strip her naked and celebrate finding her again. Or grab her and shake her crazy.

Either way, he wanted his hands on her—fast.

“I told you, I’m visiting.”

“Don’t you usually let the host know you’re visiting?”

“Right,” she said, laughing. “Like you’d have let me stay here without bugging me if you knew where I was.”

“You realize you just proved my point, right?”

Her sigh was a work of art. And it did amazing things for the black sweater she was wearing. Which he told himself he wasn’t noticing. He refused to let himself get distracted by sex. His body didn’t agree, but Dominic figured he had enough anger to override its wishes.