Second Chance SEAL(147)

I felt a hot flush tingle down my arms just thinking about him again. He was exactly like I remembered him, that cocky smile, that incredible, muscular body, those piercing eyes.

But it was totally bizarre the way he just appeared like that. He didn’t really even explain himself at all. And when I showed him Mason, his son, he seemed basically disinterested. The only thing he seemed to want to do was talk dirty to me.

Which I didn’t mind exactly, but it was confusing. The man just found out that he had a son, and he was basically uninterested. He’d acted like he could really not care less.

And then he was gone again. He got out of there so fast I almost didn’t believe he had shown up. I didn’t even bother telling my parents or Lindy about it since it felt like a dream. Maybe I was hallucinating and I really did just see a ghost.

Except when my phone rang this morning and it was him asking me to meet him for coffee, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.

I looked around the café and sipped my coffee. I was a little early, and the afternoon rush was just starting up. I was at a little table pressed up against the wall underneath a window with a nice view of the parking lot. Local art hung on the walls, and the whole café had a library-meets-bar vibe about it.

I watched the people come and go, expecting to see him every time the door opened. I didn’t know what I was doing here or what he wanted, but I figured maybe now he was finally going to talk to me about Mason.

Truthfully, I didn’t know what I wanted from him, either. I was just fine taking care of Mason myself, although it was hard. The only thing was, Mason needed a father figure in his life. Maybe Emory didn’t want to stick around in Dayton and change diapers, and I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Frankly, I didn’t even know where he lived or what he did for a job.

But I hoped he’d be in Mason’s life somehow. I didn’t need him to drop everything in his life and stay here to help raise Mason, but I did want him to at least show up for birthdays, to give Mason a positive male role model.

But maybe Emory wasn’t such a positive role model. I blushed thinking about the things he had said to me, the way he touched my body.

And just as I began to remember that night, he walked in through the door.

Tall and handsome, his eyes swept the room, seeming to take it all in at once. He spotted me and this grin broke out across his face. I stood up as he walked over.

“Tara,” he said.

“Hi, Emory. Thanks for coming.”

He smirked. “You’re very welcome.”

I extended my hand to him, wanting to try to feel at least a little familiar and normal. He looked at my hand and smirked. He grabbed it and pulled me closer to him. He kissed my cheek gently and then let me go.

Chills ran down my spine.

“Funny that you’d want to shake hands,” he said.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I mean, I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s coffee. And just so you know, I don’t shake hands with women I’ve already fucked.”

I smiled. “What about impregnated?”

“Well.” His grin slipped a little. “Let’s sit.”

We sat back down and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. I studied him, impossibly curious. He was wearing a loose black shirt and well-fitting jeans. His tattoos snaked up his arms, disappearing underneath his sleeves, and I vaguely remembered tracing them with my fingers once, a long time ago.

“I’m sure this is strange for you,” he said, “me just showing up like this.”

“Very strange,” I admitted. “How did you find me?”

He just smiled. “I’ll get to that. First, I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I didn’t know about Mason. I may not be a fucking saint, but I wouldn’t ignore my own kid.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I tried to find you, but it’s like you don’t exist. Is Emory your real name?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning again, “it is. But you won’t find me under that name.”

“Why not?” I asked, cocking my head.

“What do you do for a living, Tara?” he asked instead.

“I go to school. I want to be a nurse.”

“Well, my job is a little more complicated.” He leaned toward me, speaking low. “What do you know about the Navy SEALs?”

“Aren’t they, like, an elite special forces group or something?”

“Exactly. That’s my job. In particular, I’m assigned to a team that fights a Pakistani terrorist group called The Network.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fake.”

He laughed. “It does, but I’m not lying.”