Under Fire (Love Over Duty #1)(66)

"Don't read anything into that, Lou," he said quietly, running his fingers through his hair. "I need my hands in case anything happens."

Of course he did. His comment made her feel even more stupid, and she shook her head. "It's SEAL physical training, right?"

"Yeah, although it's much more than that. During the first phase is what's called Hell Week. Crazy as all shit. They quite literally put you through hell. I remember being so exhausted that I fell asleep getting hosed by one instructor while another screamed in my ear." He turned at her and grinned. "It's physically grueling and pushes you to the very brink in an attempt to get you to ring out, to quit. But the truth is, it's all mental. As soon as you get your head around the fact that it's impossibly rare for someone to die during SEAL training and that your body is pretty much capable of whatever you can imagine, you realize the only thing forcing you to quit is your own head."

Louisa thought about his words, let them sink in rather than respond to them immediately. Would she rather be alive and surrounded by people than dead? Of course. Would it cripple her with fear? Possibly. Would she survive it?

"Where'd you go, Lou?" he asked.

"Just thinking about what you said. Even as I say my concerns aloud, I know how stupid they sound. I'd like to say that of course I'll get through whatever happens. But you saw me that night before the presentation."

It was high tide, and the water forced them closer to the cliffs so they could scramble over the low rocks to stay out of the water. A man stood in the shallows doing what looked like yoga, his skin the color and texture of dark leather. Six nodded in his direction. "He's here every day. I last lived in Encinitas eight years ago, but he was a fixture in that spot long before then. You ever try yoga?"

"Once. Actually twice," she said, watching her step as Six reached for her hand to help her down onto a wider stretch of sand. "Turns out I have the grace of a newborn giraffe."

Six laughed and led them to another wooden staircase. "I don't buy that."

Louisa turned in the sand and looked at him. "And what does that mean?" she challenged.

"With practice, I believe you can get good at anything."



       
         
       
        

"I call bullshit," she said, lifting her bangs off her face. "See that?" she said, pointing to the jagged scar that ran from her hairline toward her crown. "Six stitches from hitting the coffee table says you are so wrong."

Six looked closely then raised his hands in surrender. "I stand corrected. But for the record, I'd be more than happy to help you learn how to do it properly without taking down inanimate furniture."

Louisa laughed. "Fine. Maybe I'll give it another go." The idea of a seminaked Six working on her flexibility provided all kinds of visual inspiration.

"So, Ms. Biologist. What other alternative remedies have you ever tried? Hypnotherapy? Aromatherapy? Acupuncture? Meditation?"

"A couple of them," she said. "No real noticeable difference, except for breathing exercises."

They started the walk up the steep wooden stairs.

"What, no argument about Eastern medicine being hocus-pocus?" he teased.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Louisa would have answered if she hadn't been completely out of breath. Six's breathing hadn't changed, probably because of all that working out he did on that frame in the garden. Perhaps she should get him to help her get into the kind of shape he was in. "None," she said. "I'll give anything a try if it will keep my mind off things."

"In that case," he said, turning up a side street, "the meditation gardens are right here." He took a left through a metal gate and pulled her to one side, carefully searching the road they'd turned up. "We're not being followed," he said. "Let's go find a spot to sit."

The garden was beautiful and lushly planted, interspersed with stone benches and little alcoves for quiet contemplation. Everybody walked through in a way she could only describe as deliberate, taking a moment here and there to touch the plants. Or take in the view. A sense of tranquility washed over her as Six took her hand and led her to a nook with a small bench that overlooked the ocean.

"Sit, Lou. And take a breath."

* * *

So much for being outside!

He'd thought, incorrectly, that being in a wide-open and public space with her would lessen the need to be with her, but it had heightened it. It started with a need to hold her hand, and he really didn't care if it was politically incorrect, but he'd wanted all the assholes on the beach who'd looked at her more than once to know she was with him.