Page 43

“It was just a bet,” she whispered. She was not adding Jack to the list of people who’d walked away from her. Which was why she had walked away this time. She didn’t need him in her life. She managed just fine without a charming SEAL trying to call the shots—and give her orgasms. Just fine.
Woof!
Natalie opened her eyes and focused on her dog. “I’d break you out of here, but there’s a naked SEAL on my bed.”
And I can’t leave this bathroom until I’m certain I won’t burst into tears.
She bit her lip and searched through the ball of clothing she’d carried into the bathroom, looking for her phone. If she couldn’t even say those words to her dog, chances were she’d fall apart in the hallway. Maybe she couldn’t control her desire to tumble into bed with Jack, but she could make sure security didn’t find her weeping beside the dog she’d snuck into their hotel.
She found her phone and dialed Cade.
“Natalie?” he answered after the first ring.
“I hate to interrupt. I know you’re having drinks with the guys.” Minus Jack. “But are you sober enough to smuggle your dog out of the hotel?”
“Yes,” Cade said. She heard footsteps, but otherwise the background sounded oddly quiet for a bar. “Most of the guys bailed on drinks. I’m heading to my room now. I’ll head your way instead. Be there in a minute.”
“Better make it five,” she said with a sigh. “Jack’s here. And I should give him a few minutes to find his clothes.”
The footsteps stopped. She waited for Cade to ask if she’d lost.
“Natalie?” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said firmly.
“You’re lying,” her best friend said. “But we don’t have to talk about it. If there’s anyone I trust to take care of herself, it’s you.”
But I don’t trust myself. Not around Jack.
She ended the call and set her phone by the bathroom sink.
Come on, Natalie. You can do this. Just steer clear of him until after the wedding.
And then this would all fade away. The memory of those orgasms, the feel of his arms wrapped around her, the sound of his voice murmuring naughty things through the bathroom door—
“Natalie? Are you all right?” the man she planned to wipe from her memory called through the door.
“Yes,” she said. Mufasa pushed himself off the ground, offering her a wide-eyed doggie version of the “oh really?” look.
“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. And oh God, he was right there on the other side of the door.
“I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” she said. By then she’d be ready to face him, laugh with his teammates about his victory, and focus on surviving her sister’s wedding day while wearing the world’s ugliest bridesmaid dress.
A tear ran down her cheek, chased by another, and then another.
The Terrible Tutu.
Now that was something to cry about.
“What part of drinks in the bar with the groom during the bachelorette thing didn’t you understand?” Ronan said, his tone downright serious. As the only officer in a group of enlisted SEALs, he sounded a helluva lot like he was pulling rank. And that damn near never happened unless they were on base or deployed.
“Cade’s the reason we’re here, spending our down time in the desert,” Ronan added as he shifted his gaze from Dante and then back to Jack. The redheaded SEAL stood with his back to a floor to ceiling wine cooler lined with bottles turned on their sides.
“Give them a break,” Cade said as he joined the group. As a rule, his teammate, and the man of the hour, wore one of three uniforms—battle dress uniform, his Navy whites, or cargo pants and a T-shirt. Sometimes Cade switched the last one up, replacing the pants with board shorts. But a suit? Cade’s gray slacks and blazer screamed “special occasion,” which sure as shit translated into “no fights.” Not even friendly ones between teammates.
But Ronan ignored the suit-signal. “Where were you, Dante?”
“I had to watch a dancer fake an orgasm,” Dante said, looking past Ronan to the red wine, not that he gave a shit about the overpriced bottles.