Page 18 of The Forgotten SEAL (The Real SEAL #1)

I swallow down a ball of nerves. “I should talk to her.” Part of me thinks I have no right to suggest it, but if things move forward as hastily as they have been, I owe it to her to give her my side of the story or at the very least listen to her and answer her questions firsthand.

Moose wouldn’t go there with Megan. I have to believe their friendship is stronger than that.

“Moose would never do that to you. He’s your friend.

” On the other hand, what if they could make each other happy?

“None of this matters, and I didn’t want to concern you with it.

I shouldn’t have told you,” Smith breathes.

I can tell he’s finished with this conversation.

“Hearing your voice makes everything better. You should know that this doesn’t make a difference to me.

Moose called and left a vague voicemail and won’t answer now. Where are you at right now?”

I know how to let something go. He doesn’t want to talk about it, so I won’t push.

Right now, at least. Face-to-face is probably a better time to have a conversation such as this.

“Fine. I trust you. Know that. You’re allowed to be upset about Megan.

” Her name catches in my throat. “Why do you want to know where I am?” I ask, cradling the cell phone in the crook of my neck.

Jasmine swears in Mandarin from my bedroom. At least something I assume is a swear because of her angered tone.

“I want to know where you’re at so I can start my list.”

I smile. “List?” I ask. “A list of what?”

“The list of places in our house where I’ll eventually make love to you.” His voice is a low, rough timbre. Desire hits me in waves. It’s shocking and immediate. My face flushes and my stomach flip-flops. “Every square inch, obviously. But I’m making a list with the order.”

He’s stolen my words and my breath. Something that’s hard to do. “Oh,” I reply.

“Where are you?” he asks again, his voice cutting straight to my core.

“The living room. Sitting right in the middle. Looking out the window,” I explain. The sun sets completely, sheathing me in night.

Smith lets out a breath and audibly swallows. “That will be the first place,” he says. “Make sure there isn’t any furniture in that exact spot.”

Licking my lips, I take note of my position and agree.

It takes a few moments of breathing. Feeling the oxygen enter and the carbon dioxide exit my body to clear my head.

It’s the first time we’ve spoken of sex.

Not that it’s not an undertone in every conversation we have, but it hasn’t been allowed in the past, nor has it felt so right.

This is our time now. I have to believe it is fate allowing a perfect circumstance.

Nothing else explains the sheer coincidence of our predicament.

“I won’t. I’ll keep it clear,” I reiterate.

If there is such a thing as hearing a grin, I do now. Smith is smiling, and this is a tiny victory in the middle of whatever he’s dealing with in regard to Moose and Megan. “I wanted to ask you something,” he whispers. It’s still quiet. He’s remained outside for our conversation.

“After our exchange, I’m pretty sure anything else will be icing on the cake,” I joke.

He laughs, the turmoil from the beginning of our conversation extinct. “I’d like to bring you to meet my parents when I get home. It’s my nephew’s birthday, and they’re having a little party for him. They want to meet you. I want you to meet them.”

There are many things racing through my mind.

How can I follow Megan? What must they think about me?

Do they think I’m to blame for the demise of the fairy-tale relationship?

How will I respond if they do? Most of all, I’m excited to take this step forward with him.

As unorthodox as our relationship has been, this is a slice of normalcy I need—what I want.

Roarke took away so many of my years. So, so many years of life that I now know could have been better spent without him.

“Is that a good idea? I’m ready, of course, but is your family? ”

“It’s a ready-or-not type of thing. This is my life now. They accept that.”

Picking at my nails restlessly, I imagine the scenario in my mind.

My insecurities are many. Try as I might to overcome what I’ve dealt with, I’ll carry the bothersome traits with me for the rest of my life.

They disappear when I’m with Smith. When I’m writing.

When I’m able to be myself truly and fully. “When?”

“Next weekend. They’re only about an hour away.”

The pit forms in my stomach. We talk for a few more minutes about his family, and I answer questions about the house and which tubs Moose dropped off.

I tell him it basically gives me free rein to go through them.

He laughs but agrees. I decide right then that I won’t look.

When Jasmine pops her head out of the door in the hallway wearing an irritated grimace, we say our goodbyes.

I stand, stretching my legs out in the first place where we will make love, and my head spins.

Deployment. Love. Endings.