Hot SEAL, Labor Day by Cynthia D’Alba

Chapter 2

Ana stretched, grabbed a pillow to hug to her chest, and rolled over to her side. Her cabin was a far superior suggestion than the car had been. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the surrounding area since it’d been so dark when she’d arrived, but the small cabin was perfect. A combo living/dining/kitchenette took up one side with a bedroom and bath on the other. The inside walls were plank cedar, as were the floor and ceiling. The place smelled like lemon and cedar and was sparkling clean. Even the sheets on the bed had felt like sleeping on a cloud. There was a small porch on the front that she envisioned spending large swatches of time sitting and thinking, or maybe reading. What a luxury that’d be.

So, today was her first day of freedom in more than twenty years. What should she do with it? Not go on hundred-mile drives for sure. She’d barely gotten a chance to see the town of Lake Kincade, so maybe a walking tour was possible. On the other hand, her cabin was away from the rest of the cabins and was on the lakefront. Maybe she’d drag a chair down to the water, stick her feet in, and read a book.

Man! She sighed again. Reading a book. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d read a book for pure enjoyment. Usually, Randall was shoving nonfiction books at her to “improve her knowledge of their world and prepare her to take her place as one of the greats.” She didn’t want to improve her mind. She’d gone to college, gotten the degree required, and had won a bunch of awards. Right now, she wanted some romantic fiction that’d take her away. She wanted a romantic hero to fall in love with. Randall would have a cow if he found her reading quote such trash unquote.

Ugh. Randall. Why did she have to think of him first thing? Way to ruin the day.

Pushing him from her thoughts, she got up, threw on a pair of linen shorts with a matching top, and made her way to the kitchen. Harbin’s advertised kitchens in their cabins, and she supposed the tiny kitchenette would pass as a kitchen enough to avoid false advertising, but she sure wouldn’t want to have to cook a real meal here.

She poured caffeinated coffee grounds into the drip pot and set a mug on the pot burner to let the first cup drip directly into it. She’d have hung her mouth under the black oil dripping from the grounds if that’d been possible. Having honest-to-goodness caffeinated coffee had her almost giddy. Randall only allowed her one cup of decaf coffee each day. He said her hands shook if she had any caffeine, which was a lie. He’d even restricted her from soft drinks with caffeine. She used to sneak in a Diet Mountain Dew from time to time until Randall checked the caffeine level and ruled it out of her diet.

She swapped out the mug for the pot to allow the rest of the coffee to brew. Then she carried her coffee outside to her front porch and sighed. Heaven must look like this. The blue water of Lake Kincade lapped at the nearby shore. Ripples in the waves shot diamond-like sparkles around her porch. Birds circled overhead as though looking for breakfast. Even as early as it was, boats roared up and down the lake. The Labor Day holiday weekend had begun. Let the fun begin for her, too.

Her week of freedom began with a second cup of caffeinated coffee and plopping into the front porch chair while hiking her feet upon the railing. As she sipped her second cup, much more slowly than she had her first, a Golden Retriever bounded up her stairs, its mouth wearing a smile.

“Well, hello,” she said. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

“He might prefer to be thought of as handsome,” a male voice replied. “And his name is Ranger.”

Ana startled, sloshing coffee over her hand. “Ouch.” She set her cup on the floor and looked up. A familiar face looked back, a smile lighting up his eyes. The man who’d helped her last night.

His long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The scruff on his face looked, well, scruffier than last night. His jeans bore the appearance of multiple washings, as did the soft, brown T-shirt he wore. She had to admit, the denim hugged his legs in all the right places, telling the world it was covering some thick, strong muscles. The short sleeves of the T-shirt wrapped snuggly around massive biceps. Dropping below one T-shirt sleeve band, she could make out the bottom of a tattoo. Was that an anchor?

In the morning light, he didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he had walking up to her car in the darkness last night. In fact, he sort of looked deliciously sexy.

“Oh! Hello,” she said, her heart racing at an allegro tempo. “Sawyer…Sawyer…” She wracked her brain for the last name.

“Beckett,” he supplied. His face broke into a wide grin. “I hope you’re not the FBI agent on my case.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Oh? Are you on the lam?”

He laughed. “How much more exciting would that be, but no. I’m on leave from the military.”

If possible, her eyebrows rose higher. She waved her hand from high to low. “But how do you get away with the hair? The beard? I thought military guys all had buzz cuts and clean cheeks.”

“Not all of us.”

While they’d been talking, Ranger had walked off the porch and over to Sawyer, who crouched down to the dog’s level and scratched his head and chest. The look of contentment on the dog’s face made her envious. She’d never been allowed to have a dog. While she was comfortable around them, she wasn’t sure of all the best canine spots for scratching. Apparently, Sawyer was in the know.

“How’d you know my name?” he asked again, not looking at her, but studying the golden-hair dog. His voice held concern, like she’d invaded his privacy or something.

“Billy Bob told me.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Oh, right. Was he able to take care of you?”

“He will, but his wife wanted him to head home. I’m supposed to bring the car in on Tuesday and he’ll fix me up.”

“You probably don’t want to take that car on any long trips until then.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said too. No problem. I don’t have to go anywhere. I can sit here and watch the boats for days. I’ll be fine.”

He climbed onto her porch uninvited, but that didn’t seem to slow him. “Wouldn’t you rather be out on the lake than just looking at it?” He swept his arm toward the water.

She leaned over to look around him—he was blocking her view after all—and then straightened. “Today? Not so much. Looks a little unsafe.”

With a chuckle, he sat in her second chair, again uninvited, but she didn’t mind. It was nice to have someone to talk with who didn’t want to talk about music.

“Well, I’ll admit there are probably some crazy drunks out there today, and maybe until Monday. But come Tuesday, if you’re still here, the water will be like a sheet of glass.”

She scoffed. “That’d have to be seen to be believed.”

“Will you still be around on Tuesday?” His head tilted questioningly.

“Yes. You?” What she didn’t add was that she’d be here as long as Randall Blagg didn’t find her.

“I’m here for the week. Official leave time.”

“Yeah, I’m on vacation also. Military, you said. What branch?”

“Navy. SEALs.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’m impressed.”

He shrugged off her comment. “It’s a job. Let’s talk about you.”

“Let’s not,” she said with a groan. “I’m on vacation, and I don’t want to think about work.”

“Will your family be joining you here?”

She almost laughed. Her family had no idea where she was and was most likely trying to find her without alerting the press that she was missing.

Her piano concertos booked at Louise M. Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco for Sunday through Saturday next week would have to be canceled or rescheduled. There would be disappointed patrons, but Ana couldn’t go on.

Mentally, her brain was completely fried…totally exhausted and utterly drained. She was experiencing a disconnect between her brain and her fingers. She could order herself to play a certain piece, and her hands would wait to receive instructions from her head, but nothing came. Nothing. Total silence.

Physically, she was fine, no known health issues, but her brain simply refused to tell her fingers to work. Her agent had shrugged off her pleas for a break with a promise of time off next summer. Next summer! She couldn’t hold on for another year. She couldn’t hold on for another week.

Ana had played a runaway fantasy game in her mind for years, never having the courage to actually do it. But during yesterday’s rehearsal, her world had folded in on her like a cheap chair. Splat. Luckily, Randall hadn’t been there to stop her flight. When the time had come to flee yesterday, all the information her acquaintance had provided had been invaluable.

Sawyer had asked about her family. What could they say?

Her mother, Irene Zeller Cristiano, would be wearing a furrowed brow as she paced and threatened Randall to find her daughter posthaste, while at the same time, mixing herself an extra dry martini…a little wake-me-up, she liked to call them.

Her agent, Randall Blagg, would be his usual impatient self…trying to calm her mother while snapping his fingers at his assistant.

Her father, Alexander Cristiano, would be smoking a cigar on the balcony of her parents’ condo in a high-rise located in downtown Chicago on Michigan Avenue, clueless that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Of course, the only thing he’d ever done to earn such a prestigious address was impregnate her mother.

Well, that was probably harsh on her part. He did have to put up with her grandparents, her mother’s parents. That alone warranted him a lifetime of bourbon and cigars. And to be fair, he had driven her to piano lessons when her mother had had the chauffeur tied up with her errands.

What had Sawyer asked her? Oh yes. Her family.

“No, they won’t be joining me. Yours?”

He shook his head. “Dad got called to Belgium for a meeting and Mom always goes where Dad goes.”

She frowned in confusion. “Belgium?”

“Yeah, Dad’s an Army general. Mom’s a faithful military wife.” He tapped his chest. “I am the ungrateful military brat who joined the wrong military branch—and I enlisted.”

She chuckled. “Let me guess. You were supposed to be in the Army.”

He tapped the end of his nose. “Only following in his footprints to West Point wasn’t what I wanted to do.”

“Didn’t you have other siblings who could have picked up the mantle?”

“Nope. Only child. You?”

“Only child.”

“I just realized I don’t know your name. You must be C. Kirk or A. Cristiano.” When her brows wrinkled, he said, “The other two envelopes taped to the office door.”

She laughed lightly. “Ana Cristiano.”

She waited for the name recognition that usually occurred when she said her name. This time, nothing. No reaction at all.

This was excellent. He had no idea who she was.

“Nice to meet you, Ana Cristiano. Do people ever pronounce your name as Anna?”

“Not if they want to live.”

He laughed, a full belly howl of amusement.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked when he finished chuckling.

She picked up her coffee cup from the porch. “Just the elixir of the gods.”

“There’s a great place just up the road. Pancakes. Belgian waffles. Eggs. Whatever you could want. Want to join me?”

She considered his offer, and then thought about her car. Surely the tires could go that far. Besides, they were going to a public place. No safety risk.

All her life she’d been warned about strangers and safety. Initially, because of her family’s money, but now it was because of her own notoriety. Of course, in this small community, the odds of there being a fan of classical piano were slim. Hadn’t she picked this place because of those odds?

“Um, can I see your ID?”

He grinned. “Smart lady.” He pulled a wallet from his front pocket and flipped out his military identification.

“Thanks,” she replied.

“Don’t blame you a bit,” he said, slipping the wallet back into his pocket. “Lots of fake SEALs running around claiming things that aren’t true.”

“How infuriating that must be.”

“It is. So, breakfast?”

She smiled. “Yes, that sounds lovely. We can take my car.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, no. And I’m not riding in that death mobile until you get tires with some treads. You ever been on a Harley?”

Her eyes widened at the thought. Ride a motorcycle? Her mother would swoon. Her grandmother would have a case of the vapors. Randall would tell her the odds of an accident that could break all her fingers and put her career at risk.

“I haven’t. It sounds exciting. Can I go like this?”

He studied her linen shorts and matching blouse. “You can if you’re comfortable. Nothing in this town is what I would call classy, so anything casual is fine. Just put on shoes. You might want to change into jeans for safety, if you have some.”

She glanced down at her toes and giggled. “Yeah, barefoot is a little too out there, even for me. I have a pair of sneakers and jeans. What about a helmet?” She might be mad at her agent and family, but she wasn’t nuts.

“I have an extra one. Let’s go.”

“Give me a second to change.”

She didn’t want to admit how nervous she was climbing on his Harley. She’d never been on a motorcycle in all her thirty years. Her heart was pounding like a kettle drum. She was almost embarrassed by a grin so wide her cheeks hurt. Thankfully, he had the kind of Harley with an actual seat for a second rider. Sawyer handed her a purple helmet that matched his bike.

“Helmet. It’s the law.”

She shoved it on. “You know this is going to ruin my coiffure and yours.” Her long hair was limp and stringy this morning since she’d done nothing besides drying it last night before going to bed.

He chuckled. “I’ll risk it,” he said as he pulled down the foot pegs for the her. “Come over to the left side. Now, swing your leg over like you’re going to drive.” He laughed at her wide eyes. “No, Ana, you can’t drive my bike today.”

She climbed on and sat in the main seat.

“Now, scoot back until you’re on the back.”

Once she did, he swung his leg over, righted the bike and fired up the engine.

“Ready?” he asked. “Hold on to me tight.”

She nodded, tapping the front of her helmet into the back of his. Excitement raced through her veins along with a spark of nerves.

This reminded her of the first piano recital she’d given. She’d been seven at the time. Even at that age, she’d known she was good, so she hadn’t been scared of the audience. She’d been excited and nervous to show what she could do. Plus, she’d been in Germany on a military base playing for military families, so if she’d messed up, no one would know. Her piano teacher at the time had said it was the ideal place to get her some playing experience. She hadn’t messed up, and all the children had been given a whole day off from practice.

Sawyer revved the engine, which made the bike vibrate between her legs. That produced a very interesting tingle that bounced around her gut.

“Hang on,” he shouted over his shoulder. “And don’t wiggle around.”

She lightly clasped hold of his T-shirt.

He shook his head. “Like this.” He took her right hand and pulled it to his stomach and then did the same with her left. “And when I lean, you follow my body.”

While her hands were resting on his T-shirt material, she had no difficulty feeling the firm muscles underneath. Her fingers flexed, not making an indent in the hard surface, but able to discern the groves in his abdomen. Six-pack? Eight-pack? Lord. Musicians were the only men she was around these days, and they definitely didn’t sport anything like this.

She squeezed her arms a little tighter and nodded, accidentally clunking her helmet against his again. If she kept doing that, both of them would get a headache. “Sorry,” she shouted. “I’m ready.”

And then they were moving. She squealed with delight. Grasping her hands together, she held on with a strong hug, her front pressed firmly to his back. Gosh, he was firm, back and front. All those muscles twitched and bunched with his movements. She hadn’t ever held a man like this one. Oh, she wasn’t a virgin. She’d had sex at music camp when she’d been sixteen, so she knew what the male body was all about, but Sawyer’s body was way beyond any male body she knew. Even looking at him was different than looking at Randall, or his son, Geoffrey. Ugh. Why did she have to think of Geoffrey Blagg?

Erasing the image of her manager and his son from her mind, she let her gaze take in the passing landscape of water and boats and deep-green trees. Wind smacked her face, and she was thankful for her sunglasses which kept her eyes from drying out too much.

Before she knew it, Sawyer was turning into the gravel parking lot of DD’s Diner. He pulled to a stop and shut off the engine.

“Here we are,” he said as he removed his helmet. “The Double D. Best breakfast in town.” His feet rested on the ground as he straddled his bike.

She pulled off her helmet. “You speak from experience?”

“I do. I’ve been here before. Can you get off the back, or do you need help?”

“Can I stand on the pedal where my foot is?”

“Yep. I’ve got the bike.”

While he kept the bike standing straight, she stood on the foot rests and swung her leg over the low back. Her right foot landed on the gravel and she stepped off. “Easy peasy,” she said.

He grinned as he set his kickstand and slipped off the bike like silk flowing in the wind. So much grace.

“Grab your helmet,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to lose it.”

She nodded. “I wondered about someone stealing them while we were inside.”

“Probably wouldn’t happen here in Lake Kincade, but why take the chance?”

Inside, they found an empty booth. No view, but she didn’t mind all that much. Sawyer was quite the view himself. They slid into opposite sides and grabbed the menus that stood behind the salt and pepper shakers.

Ana’s stomach growled loudly. She slammed her hand against her belly. “Sorry.”

Sawyer chuckled. “No problem. Don’t be surprised if mine answers.”

She laughed, glad that he didn’t look as appalled as she felt. “Everything sounds so good.” Her stomach took that moment to growl again. “I’m afraid we’ve awakened the beast who lives in my belly.”

“What do you think would appease your beast?” he asked with a broad grin.

“Hmm…a waffle for sure. Maybe some bacon?” She mentally calculated the cost in her head and then the amount of cash she’d shoved into her pocket. She had enough for breakfast, but she needed to be careful. She only had a thousand to make it the rest of the week, and that included her cabin. But she’d probably put that on a credit card since it wouldn’t matter by then.

“What can I get cha?” an older woman wearing a DD Diner T-shirt and shorts asked. “Can I start cha with some coffee?”

“Coffee would be great,” Sawyer said. “Ana?”

She shook her head. “I’m coffeed out for today. Orange juice?”

“Be right back,” the waitress said.

“What do you recommend?” Ana asked Sawyer.

He shrugged. “You really can’t go wrong with anything. The waffles are good, as are the pancakes and omelets.”

“What are you having?”

“DD’s Big Breakfast.”

Ana’s gaze swept over the menu until she found it. An everything omelet, a stack of four pancakes, an order of bacon, and an order of sausage. She groaned. “I would pop if I ate all that.”

“Hey, I’m a growing boy.”

She laughed.

The waitress set their drinks on the table. “Ready?”

Sawyer looked at her with a raised questioning eyebrow.

“I am,” Ana said. “I want the strawberry waffle, with extra strawberries, and an order of bacon crispy.”

“And you?” The waitress looked at Sawyer.

“DD’s Big Breakfast. Meat well cooked.”

“Thanks, hon. It’ll be ready in a jiff.”

“So, what are your plans this week?” he asked, as he tucked their menus back into place.

Hiding, she thought, but said, “I don’t know. This was sort of a spontaneous vacation. I read through what was in the envelope last night. There are so many things I could do. On the other hand, I could do nothing for an entire week and enjoy that. What about you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe rent a boat after all the crazies go home after Labor Day. There are day hikes I’d like to do, and I always enjoyed taking my bike around the lake. Thought I might do that today. Come with me. You’ll enjoy seeing the lake from all the pull-off points.”

She scrunched her nose. “Can I think about it?” Not that she didn’t want to go. She did, so if she did, what was stopping her? Maybe it was the years of getting someone else’s permission before doing anything, and wasn’t she tired of that?

“Of course,” he replied easily. “Now, let’s talk fishing. Do you fish? You know we can fish right behind our cabins.”

And just like that, their conversation veered off on different topics. Their food came, but that only slowed their talking.

Ana dragged the last corner of waffle through the syrup on her plate and plopped it into her mouth with a sigh. “That was so good.” She wiped her mouth with her paper napkin. “I am a little concerned about the extra weight I’ll be bringing to your rear tire.”

He laughed as he wiped his beard. “I think we’ll be fine. Does that mean you’ll circle the lake with me today?”