Page 36 of Huck Frasier (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #5)

Fraiser

B ack home. Finally.

I’d barely dropped my gear bag by the front door before Marley was on me again — pacing the living room in her favorite leggings and my old T-shirt, eyes blazing with righteous fury. I reached for her and rubbed her tummy, then I kissed my baby girl. “Daddy loves you.”

“You left me for two weeks , Fraiser. Two. And you didn’t answer a single text or call. I nearly gave birth from stress.”

I sank onto the couch, dragging a hand over my face. I’d faced cartel bosses, corrupt mercenaries, and a dozen near-death ambushes — but nothing was as terrifying as my pregnant woman in full lecture mode.

“I told you I’d be back in time—”

She threw a couch pillow at my head. I caught it midair — pure muscle memory.

“Don’t you dare use your calm SEAL voice on me. You do not get to ‘Marley, sweetheart’ me right now. Do you know what it’s like to imagine you lying dead somewhere in the Ozarks while our baby kicks me like she’s performing a drum solo?!”

I stood up, cornered her against the arm of the couch, and braced my hands on either side of her hips. “Mar—”

“Stop it. I’m still mad.”

“Good. Be mad.” I dipped my head, brushing my nose against hers until her breathing hitched. “Be mad right here, with me. Safe. Home.”

She tried to glare. She really did. But her hands slid up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. “I hate you.”

“You said that last time too.”

“And I meant it. Twice.”

I smiled against her mouth, stealing a kiss so deep her knees buckled. “You done yelling at me?”

“Not even close.”

One Hour Later

We didn’t talk much for the next forty-five minutes. We argued in whispers between kisses. We made promises between gasps. She told me exactly how furious she still was — right before dragging me back to the couch when I tried to carry her to bed.

I worshipped every curve, every soft swear word that spilled from her lips, every heartbeat that said mine because she was, and always will be.

Marley lay half on top of me, my T-shirt completely missing, hair a wild halo on my chest. Her fingers traced lazy circles where my dog tags usually rested.

“Promise me something?” she murmured.

“Anything.”

“No more Ozarks missions. Ever. Let those idiots do their own fighting, for Pete's sake.

I chuckled. “Babe, the Ozarks aren’t—”

She pinched my nipple. Hard. I yelped.

“Okay! No more Ozarks. You have my word. It was stupid anyway. One side kidnapped a few of the other side's women. One of the ladies and one of the men were in love with each other. Like I said, it was stupid. Thankfully, no one died. They were shooting real bullets at each other when we arrived.”

“You’re right, they are crazy.”

“I’m staying home with you, from now on.”

She sighed contentedly, draping a leg over my thigh. “Good. Because next time you pull this, I’m bringing Lark with me.”

I kissed the top of her head, pulling her closer. “Noted.”