Page 7 of Defended By the SEAL (HERO Force #10)

The old house howled and whistled in the wind, the walls seeming to shake with every gust as Charlotte sat across from Cowboy and Grams at the dining room table.

Several candles flickered in the drafty room as they ate from the thick marble platter full of spicy meats and fancy cheeses Grams had prepared as the first course of dinner.

She’d always gone all-out at mealtime, and it was nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

Charlotte was hyperaware she needed to ascertain both her grandmother’s mental state and Tom’s intentions, neither one of which would be easy to decipher. Her stomach jangled with stress, dampening her appetite, but Cowboy ate with irritating gusto.

“This cheese is delicious, Grams,” he said, and Charlotte bristled at the use of the relational nickname, no matter that her grandmother had insisted he use it. Cowboy wasn’t family, and no matter what he wanted, he never would be.

“Glad you like it,” said Grams. “There’s something magical about candlelight, especially with a good meal. I am concerned, though. The worst of the storm is still hours away. How high was the water when you came in?”

“Within a couple feet of the roadway,” he said. “I don’t think those low bridges are going to make it.”

“Hmm.” Grams got a faraway look in her eye.

Forget concerned. If Charlotte didn’t know better, she’d say her grandmother was downright worried. “Will Tom be joining us?”

“I’m not sure. He’s probably in his office.” She waved her hand. “Always working, that one. He’s really taken to the family business.”

Charlotte’s brows went up. “You’re letting him work for Signet?”

“Of course. I think it’s wonderful. After all these years of running the business since your grandfather passed, I’m ready to let someone eltake the reinsgns.”

“Grams, you’re not letting him run the company, are you?”

“Goodness, no, but it’s nice to have someone share the responsibility. He has some excellent ideas for the future. Expanding into new markets, thinking up new products. He’s really quite the visionary.”

Charlotte felt blindsided. This was worse than she’d feared. “So, you’re going to marry this guy and give him control over the business it took Grandpa forty years to build.”

Cowboy’s voice held a note of warning. “Char…”

The older woman clucked her tongue. “I wasn’t born yesterday, dear. I’m having him sign a prenuptial agreement to protect myself. But he’s a professor of economics with a brain for business and a deep interest in our work. Why shouldn’t he be part of the company?”

Charlotte leaned forward. “What if he’s a scammer, Grams? What if he’s taking you for a ride because he wants your money, or your house, or the entire company, for God’s sake?”

Tom cleared his throat from the doorway. “Looks like I’m late to the party.” He crossed to Loretta and kissed her cheek, despite the way Grams pulled back several inches when he got near. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I lost track of time going through some reports.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. Were they fighting? Is that why Grams hadn’t answered the door right away when she and Cowboy arrived?

Tom eyed Charlotte with a distinctively piqued look. “I couldn’t help but overhear your comments.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just looking out for my grandmother’s interests.”

“As any good granddaughter would do.” He sat at the head of the table.

The only person she’d ever seen sitting there was her grandfather, and the image of Tom in his place was unsettling. She should be polite, make small-talk. But finding socially acceptable conversation had always been a struggle for Charlotte. Her mother’s voice spoke clearly in her mind.

Ask about their work, their family, their interests.

Not everything is about you, Charlotte.

“Grams tells us you’re doing a lot for the company.”

He seemed to hesitate, carefully pouring himself a hefty glass of red wine. “I’m trying, yes.”

“Signet’s bread and butter are government contracts,” Charlotte said, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms, knowing she was baiting him, challenging him.

But she couldn’t help herself. She needed to see if this man was good enough for her grandmother.

“Grams says you want to change things, but business is good just the way it is.”

He met her stare. “I think it could be better. Your grandmother and I are working together to make the most of various opportunities. The world is always changing, markets shifting, creating need where it didn’t exist before.

I’m making sure Signet is positioned to thrive well into the future.

You have nothing to fear from me, Charlotte. I assure you, my intentions are good.”

Grams leaned forward. “What about you, Cowboy?” she asked, clearly trying to stear the conversation away from the obvious tension between Charlotte and Tom. “What do you do for a living?”

Cowboy was more than happy to oblige. “I run a security firm called HERO Force, which stands for Hand-on Engagement and Reconnaissance Operations. I work with your grandson, Logan.”

Grams’s eyes sparkled. “Is that how you two know each other? Through Logan?”

Cowboy and Charlotte shared a look. He was grinning. She was not. He turned his smile to Grams. “It is.”

“Well, isn’t that serendipitous,” said the old woman. She looked at her plate and pushed a bit of food around with a sigh.

Charlotte’s grumpy gaze followed the animated motions of the other woman’s fork, and she realize how little Grams had served herself and was eating. Her concern mingled with irritation at Grams’s use of the word serendipitous.

“You know,” said Grams, “the heating system doesn’t work without electricity. We’re all going to depend on the fireplaces for heat until the power is restored. The largest of the guest rooms has a fireplace, but the other two do not.”

Charlotte blanched, instantly seeing where this was going. The very thought of sharing a room with Leo after everything they’d just been through was nerve-wracking. She needed a forty-foot buffer zone between them, not to share a room with the man, for fuck’s sake.

The expression took her aback. When was the last time she’d used that particular gem? Once it had been in her shortlist of useful phrases, but now it sounded like an echo of her old self had settled in her mind, and she didn’t care for the feeling.

“It’s all right, I can sleep down here,” said Cowboy, his obvious concern for Charlotte’s wishes only frustrating her even more.

She was vaguely aware that nothing he could do would please her, and she silently cursed him for being here at all.

Why the hell had she agreed to it in the first place?

And when the hell had she gotten so damn angry?

Grams shook her head. “The living room fireplace flue has been sticking. I certainly wouldn’t trust it overnight. You might die of smoke inhalation or carbon monoxide poisoning. Only the one in the kitchen is trouble-free. It will take the chill off down here, but not much more than that.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine, really.”

The idea of him freezing his ass off while she was snug upstairs made Charlotte feel terrible, but the idea of him sleeping in the same room with her made her feel something else entirely.

“Plus, the sofa is terribly uncomfortable,” said Grams. “I really can’t recommend it.”

Cowboy smirked. “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places.”

Charlotte knew that was probably true—he’d been a Navy SEAL, for God’s sake—but he’d come all this way to help her.

You told him separate everything, and he agreed.

You have nothing to feel bad about.

But she did feel bad, and she was also beginning to feel like a major bitch.

They had lived together for more than a year.

She could handle sleeping in the same room with him if it meant he would stay warm.

Taking a deep breath, she put on her best disaffected look.

“We can share the room, Leo. It’s not a big deal. ”

“Good, then that’s settled,” Grams said quickly. “Cowboy, would you clear the dishes, please? It’s time for the main course.” She stepped out of the room to get it while Cowboy stood and did as she asked.

Charlotte homed in on Tom. “So, you’re a professor.”

“That’s right.”

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Eleven years, though I enjoy working for your grandmother so much, I may not go back to it. I was a man of business before moving into education.”

Charlotte furrowed her brow. “What kind of business?”

Tom cocked his head. “Am I being interrogated?”

“That depends,” she said. “Do you have something to hide?”

Cowboy bumped her chair while reaching for her plate, then apologized as if it had been an accident. Charlotte knew it had not.

“Of course not,” said Tom. “I would like us to get along. I know you’re suspicious of me, but I’m not a threat, truly.”

She was not assuaged. “What kind of business?” she repeated.

“I was the chief financial officer for a bank. But I longed for something more… influential. What could be influential than teaching the next generation?”

Cowboy shot Charlotte a clear look of warning as he backed up to the swinging door to the kitchen and pushed it open with his backside, his hands full of dishes.

Charlotte took full advantage of her time without her keepers. “But now you’re happy to leave that behind for a drafty old house on an isolated little island. Why is that?”

“I’m happy to be with your grandmother.”

The door to the kitchen swung open and Grams entered with a platter loaded high with roast beef, potatoes, and carrots, which she placed in the middle of the table. Cowboy followed on her heels so quickly, Charlotte thought he might have thrown the dishes into the sink in his haste to return.

“That smells fantastic, Grams,” he said, his earnest tone calling to mind a TV commercial from the 1950s. “You’ll have to teach me how to make it.”

“It’s a pot roast,” Charlotte nearly snarled.

“You put a roast into a pot and you cook it.” She turned her attention back to Tom.

“So, how did you two—” she broke off, jerking her head back as the smell from the pot roast suddenly hit her in with an unexpected intensity.

It was the same savory scent she’d smelled hundreds of times in her life, but this time it made her instantly nauseas.

“You all right?” asked Cowboy.

“I’m fine.” She did her best to shake it off and began again. “How did you two get in touch after all these years?”

“It was so romantic,” said Grams. “He was—”

Charlotte lightly squeezed her grandmother’s arm. “Let Tom tell it.”

Grams’s mouth opened and closed. She looked resolutely tatTom.

“Loretta, you’ve outdone yourself,” he said, passing his plate to Charlotte. “I’d love a portion from the middle.”

Charlotte took the plate and considered tossing it at his head like a throwing knife. Clearly, he expected the women to serve him, and she was about to protest when Grams took the plate from her hands and spooned roasted vegetables onto it.

Distracted by the misogyny, Charlotte almost forgot her line of questioning. Why did it feel like getting him to answer a simple question was akin to waterboarding? He was so evasive. “I asked how you two reconnected.”

He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Just waiting for some of that delicious roast. Your grandmother frequently distracts me with her cooking.”

Charlotte had little choice but to wait as her grandmother buttered Tom’s roll and tucked it against the side of the plate laden with roast beef and gravy. Her hands trembled, something Charlotte had never noticed before. Was something wrong with her? Maybe Parkinson’s or MS?

Begrudgingly, Charlotte took Tom’s plate from her grandmother and passed it back to him.

“Thank you,” he said, setting it down in front of him before slipping a cloth napkin out from under his silverware and placing it in his lap.

When he carefully sliced the meat and potatoes before taking a bite, Charlotte had waited long enough. “Just can’t remember how your betrothed came back into your life?”

Again Grams started to speak, and again Charlotte put her hand on her grandmother’s arm to stop her. “I want to hear Tom tell it.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” he said, taking a bite of his food and chewing it carefully. Finally, he swallowed. “I called her.”

“You called her,” parroted Charlotte. “That’s it?”

“I heard from a mutual friend she’d been widowed some years ago, and I asked for her number.”

Charlotte looked from Grams to Tom and back again. “What’s the romantic part?”

“I don’t know that there is one,” Tom said, looking to Grams with a wink that felt to Charlotte like it was a week late and a dollar short of endearing. “Although women are known to see romance in these things, that a more rational mind might consider commonplace.”

A more rational mind? So not only did it take him a half an hour to remember how he reunited with Grams, he saw nothing romantic about it and oh—by the way—women are irrational beings. And don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out, Tom.

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him, when a series of tremendous crashes echoed through the room, each reverberating through the space like the sequential bursts of a fireworks finale or the percussive breaking of plate-glass windows.