No Reservations (Special Ops: Tribute Book 1) (4 page)

BOOK: No Reservations (Special Ops: Tribute Book 1)
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“I guess we’re cut from the same cloth,” he observed. “I
don’t know a damn thing about running a business and even less about making ice
cream.”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got the right woman in your
life.”

“No doubt. I sure wouldn’t be doing this without her. And I
bet your inn will take Annapolis by storm.”

Bridget grinned. “If I ever open.”

“You’ll open. Your reinforcements just arrived.”

Silent, she stared at him a moment, knowing this was too
good to be true, and not wanting to ruin it by opening her mouth.

The man was an angel—an angel with a set of pecs and
power tools.
There is a God.

Chapter Three

 

Maddox’s arm flopped over to the nightstand instinctively at
the sound of the alarm. He was out of the Navy now. No need to wake up at the
crack of ass for PT anymore. So he had given himself an extra hour and slept
till six.

That extra hour was sheer bliss.

Slipping on his shorts, he perused his surroundings in the
low light of daybreak, half expecting the place to look worse to him with
well-rested eyes. Even after being slept in, though, the room looked as fresh
and pretty as… well, as the woman who ran the inn.

Damn
, she was cute, and not just because she’d handed him a
desperately needed beer. Her blonde locks falling out of her loose ponytail framed
her face in the most adorable way, and she had the kind of wide-set, turquoise eyes
that a guy could get lost in.

She’d be fighting off her male guests. A low grumble of
concern echoed inside him. He’d planned on heading to a hardware store this
week to pick up a separate deadbolt for her front door. Maybe she wouldn’t mind
him installing an extra one on her bedroom door, as well.

With every step he took down the long, curved staircase, the
floor squeaked unapologetically. He didn’t want to wake her, so he
tiptoed—a hell of a feat for a guy who packed 210 pounds on a 6’3” frame.

Using the key she had given him, he locked the front door
behind him as he stepped onto the front stoop, feeling a hint of gratification
when the knob didn’t fall off in his hand again.

The air was crisp and scented heavily with the brackish
water of the Bay. He ran toward that scent now, his eyes needing to see the
water the same way his lungs needed breath.

There were exactly three reasons he joined the Navy, in his
mind: his dad, the urge to wear the Trident, and the water—the way the
very sight of it seemed to calm him, put his entire life in perspective. And he
needed that right now, so he’d run until he saw that water and then keep right
on running alongside it till his feet ached.

He stopped briefly at the Academy gate to show the Petty
Officer his ID, and then slipped it back into the small pocket of his running
shorts. How strange it was to flash a civilian driver’s license rather than a
military ID. No salute was exchanged. No automatic recognition that they both
shared the same heritage.

He wasn’t part of this family anymore, and the reminder of
it this morning was exactly what he
hadn’t
needed. He’d never admit to
anyone that a huge part of him questioned his decision to leave the Navy. If
he’d stayed in twenty years, he’d at least have a retiree ID for the rest of
his life.

Then there would still be that attachment, that identity.

But leaving
before
twenty? There was a small
ceremony, and several parties thrown by his teammates and peers. And then…
nothing.

The Navy, the SEALs—they’d moved on without him, never
missing a step.

As he knew it would be.

As it
should
be, he reminded himself for the
umpteenth time.

He doubted anyone really understood why he was getting out. But
they hadn’t seen Becca when she’d lost her husband.

He’d barely known her at the time. The younger sister of his
former SEAL CO, Captain Joe Shey, Becca had only popped in and out of Maddox’s
life to visit her brother when he returned from missions, once at a promotion
ceremony, and then once more at her brother’s change of command.

The team that Maddox had served with under Captain Shey had
been a tight-knit group, as all SEAL teams are. So even after they went their
separate ways, being reassigned to different teams and posts, the word had
traveled fast when Becca’s husband, an Army officer, had been killed in the
war.

Maddox was stationed in San Diego back then, the only one of
the old team who was stateside at the time. Even Captain Shey was on a mission in
Northern Africa and couldn’t leave to be with his sister.

Rushing to her side had been a no-brainer. As Captain Shey’s
sister, Becca was like blood to the team. Maddox stayed two weeks in Fort
Huachuca to support her and her son, who was just in kindergarten back then.

Being in the military, he’d been to his fair share of
funerals. But this was the first time for him that a wife and kid were involved.
He had never hugged a kindergartner whose memories of his father would fade in
time, leaving in its place a cold void. And he had never, ever seen a woman as
torn to shreds as Becca was.

Seeing it, witnessing it first-hand, was like tearing the
hard scab off of a wound that he’d sported since before his earliest memory. The
images of his own family, once bathed in pride and honor, seemed tainted
somehow, no longer as simplistic as he’d once enjoyed.

Yet it was times like this, as he ran along the Severn River
on the Academy campus surrounded by the Navy heritage that still meant so much
to him, when he questioned the rationale that made him turn in his paperwork.

The water splashed against the rocky shoreline as he passed
another runner. Around the bend, the gentle curve of the Navy Bridge beckoned
him and he decided to push forward to it. As he pounded his feet onto the
bridge, he stopped at the crest and took a long look at the river beneath him. This
was, without a doubt, the most spectacular view of Annapolis, with the skyline
of the Academy bursting up from the banks of the Severn River.

Damn, it was a sight. The waters were filled with boats this
week—sail and powerboats alike.

Maybe he’d buy a sailboat one day, or even live on one. It
was certainly the town to do it. The idea warmed him. Thanks to all the
investors he’d scrounged up for the ice cream shop, Maddox hadn’t eaten through
his life savings yet. He could buy a Beneteau rather than a condo and live with
a 360 degree view of the Bay every day of his life.

When in Annapolis, do as the Annapolitans
do
, he thought, deciding to
seriously consider the idea as he resumed his run over the bridge and onto the
curving road that wound along the waterfront.

This side of the Severn wasn’t nearly as busy as downtown. Annapolis’s
stoic World War II monument greeted him on Route Two, and he stopped briefly,
giving a nod to the service of his fellow veterans before he turned onto a more
residential road that ran alongside the Severn River. Most of the homes were
old and stately with ancient oaks in their front yards that shielded him from
the morning sun as he ran.

He looped through a neighborhood and paused in front of a
house that had a sign in its yard.

“Rental Unit Available,” it read.

Curious, he eyed the house. There was an exterior stairway
to a basement, and Maddox would bet that the unit was located there.
How big
is it?
he wondered.
Big enough for a single mom and her growing son,
perhaps?

Feeling bold, he walked up the driveway to the backyard. It
was spacious, perfect for a kid who liked to practice his catches on any sunny
day. He could picture Becca and Brandon here, if the place happened to have two
bedrooms. He looked at the sign and committed the phone number to memory,
chanting the digits in his head as he resumed his run through the neighborhood
and back over the bridge.

He was soaking wet by the time he made it back to the Shifting
Sands, more from the thick humidity than from the strain of the run. He opened
the door with his key and, tugging off his saturated shirt, he headed up the
stairs.

The sight of Bridget walking into the room had him stopping
mid-staircase.

He thought she’d look a little less tempting in the morning,
yet it was quite the opposite. With blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she
wore a tank top and one of those sporty little skorts paired with sneakers that
women always seemed to wear in casual seaside towns like Annapolis. Her outfit
was half covered by a tidy little apron.

An apron. For the love of God, an apron.

Didn’t she know the effect she would have on men, dressed
like that? A hot, scarcely clad chick in an apron was stereotypically arousing,
and Maddox felt pretty cliché for his body’s reaction to the sight.

Yep. A deadbolt on her bedroom door was definitely needed.

Her eyes didn’t meet his. They were fastened squarely on his
pecs, making Maddox glad that he’d kept his SEAL physique even though he didn’t
wear the Trident anymore. “Good morning,” he greeted her, flashing his best
smile.

“Ummm….” She seemed at a loss of words for a moment till she
said, “I was just fixing one of my recipes. I think it might have turned out
okay. So if you’re hungry—” A blush touched her cheeks at that last word
and she looked away.

“Famished. Uh, sorry I’m a mess right now. I just went out
for a run.”

She pressed her remarkably kissable lips together. “Yeah. I
kind of guessed that. Is it hot—out?”

That blush deepened at the word “hot.” Yep, she was
definitely interested. And coincidentally, so was Maddox. So didn’t it make it
convenient that they’d be sharing the same roof for a while?

“Not very. But humid.”

“That’s how we do it in Annapolis. It’s not the heat. It’s
the—”

She was interrupted by a harsh thumping at the door. Her
eyes widened until she heard a voice on the other side.

“Bridget! Bridget, are you in there?” the voice hollered.

Bridget cringed, whispering a salty curse when she glanced
at her watch, and then raced to the door to open it.

 “I’m so sorry I forgot to text you,” she told the
woman on the other side.

A brunette with a definite fire in her eyes bolted through
the door. She had an impressive can of pepper spray in her hand, industrial-strength
from the look of it. And by the aggression that shot from her features, she was
ready to use it. “Jeez, girl, I’ve been calling your cell all morning. I
thought I’d find your dead body in here.”

 “I turned it off last night.” Bridget cringed. “You
didn’t call the police did you?”

“No, but I was pretty close. Fortunately, I know what a bum
you are in the morn—” The visitor’s eyes drifted to Maddox. Her jaw
gaped. “Oh, mercy me.” She scanned his body unrepentantly. “What have we here?”

Maddox wasn’t the type to blush. Hell, he didn’t even think
it was physically possible for him. But this woman’s hungry gaze as it crossed
his bare chest made him rethink his choice to rip the sweaty shirt off his
body.

Walking down the last steps toward them, he smiled,
extending his hand. “Maddox Kerry.”

“Leia,” she responded, her voice as sultry as her gaze when
she gently took his hand. “Like the princess.”

Maddox couldn’t resist a chuckle, appreciating her sense of
humor. “Of course.”

Looking flustered, Bridget pressed her palm against her
forehead. “I’m sorry. Um, Maddox, this is my friend Leia. I was supposed to
call her this morning. She was a little worried about me letting a random guy
into my house last night.”

“And now I see I had nothing to worry about.” Leia angled
him a flirtatious look.

“Glad I could put your mind at ease.” He decided he liked
her, and not just because the look she was giving him was a definite boost to
his ego. There was little that Maddox appreciated more than people who knew
that the ties of friendship could be as strong as the ties of family. “Thanks
for checking up on her,” he added before an apologetic smile flickered on his
lips. “I’m, uh, a little ripe. I better get upstairs and take a shower. I’d
love to take you up on that breakfast though, Bridget. Is it okay if I come
down in a half hour or so?”

“Sure.”

Giving a nod, he jogged up the steps to his room. In the
bathroom, a circa 1980s brass water faucet made Maddox recall Bridget’s mention
of installing new plumbing fixtures this week. He could get that done in no
time, he’d bet. His mother had lived in a few fixer uppers in his teen years, and
he’d picked up a little knowledge here and there from her and his stepdad.

Stepping into the stream of hot water, it coursed over his skin.
It should feel a relief to his muscles, except that his body didn’t exactly
feel tested this morning. He was more the type to follow-up a simple run with a
few sets of weights. He needed to find a good gym. If he was still active duty
or even retired, he imagined the Academy would have some facilities he could
use.

But he wasn’t. He was a civilian now. Where the hell do
civilians go for a good work out?

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he swung open the
bathroom door to let some of the steam out, when it hit him—like a ton of
bricks, only a hell of a lot more pleasant.

Bacon
.

The aproned goddess was making him bacon.

After tugging on a t-shirt and shorts, he bounded down the
steps with an exuberance that reflected his love of all things meat, finding
her in the kitchen pouring whisked eggs into a pan alongside what looked like some
kind of crab mixture.

“Right on time,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at
him.

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