A tear fell down her face and she swiped at it. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
He cupped her face and kissed her softly. “Yes. Because I love you so much it hurts. And I’m going to love watching you grow round with our baby.” He slid a hand down to her belly. “Nothing else matters. We’ll figure it all out.”
Tuck was at peace. After months of dealing with a crazy wife on a stupid reality TV show, all of that was totally behind him. He never would have imagined finding the perfect woman in the middle of that madness. But he had. And now she was going to marry him and have his baby.
Life was perfect. He couldn’t ask for more.
Please enjoy the following excerpt from the next book in the series, Hot SEAL, Best Man. The links for the rest of the series are also listed below.
“I need you to help me plan my wedding.”
Evan “Cowboy” Lancaster gave his head a good shake, suddenly sure there was a disconnect between his ears and his brain. The idea his hearing was beginning to fail was too ridiculous to consider. He was in top physical condition. His heart was strong. Sure, he gave his liver an occasional workout, but it, too, functioned at a high capacity. As did all of his other organs. His eyesight was damn near perfect—a requirement for his job as a Navy SEAL sniper. He could out-swim, out-run, out-shoot, and out-wait more than half the guys on the teams. Hell, his time on the O-Course would be legendary if it weren’t for his teammate Nick “Pretty Boy” Nelson, who had a freakish ability to move like a gazelle.
Still, there was no way Evan had heard John correctly.
Evan leaned forward, in case he was wrong and hearing aids were in his future. “Come again?”
“I need you to help me plan my wedding,” John repeated, a little slower this time but with no less enthusiasm.
The words didn’t sound any less insane the second time.
Evan sank back in his chair, mentally calculating how many espresso shots John had consumed. His childhood friend had been known to over-indulge in caffeine when he was on a deadline, but the triple shot Evan had watched him drink wasn’t enough to twist the guy’s brain. And unless John had had a complete personality transplant, Evan could be certain his friend wasn’t high. Or drunk. That left one option.
John Peterson had finally lost his fucking mind.
“Evan? Hello?”
The wadded-up napkin bouncing off his forehead brought Evan’s focus back to the table. He downed what was left of his own coffee and set the now empty mug on the table with a thunk. He shook his head again. John was his oldest friend. He loved the guy. He did. But, “No.”
John’s chest deflated, his bony shoulders curling inward. “That’s it? Just, no?”
“What else do you want me to say? No way? Are you crazy?” Evan glanced at the table of young girls drinking lattes nearby before lowering his voice. “Not on your fucking life?” All were relevant in this situation.
Clearly frustrated, John blew out a breath. “I want you to say yes.”
Evan studied his friend, wondering if there was something to that whole body-snatching thing they’d seen in a movie as kids. The request didn’t make sense. Harebrained ideas were not part of John’s DNA. He wasn’t spontaneous. He wasn’t a romantic. John was a screenwriter who took his risks on paper, rarely in life.
And planning a wedding while the bride was out of the country was the very definition of risk.
“Come on, man,” John implored. “I can’t do this without you.”
“There’s a reason you can’t do this without me. Or with me. Dudes aren’t supposed to plan weddings. It’s the law.”
John rolled his eyes. “No, it isn’t.”
“Well, it should be.” Evan stared down at his empty mug, wishing it would magically refill. “The wedding is in two weeks. I don’t believe for one second that you let the details slip. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?” Although he had a good idea.
John shifted in his chair. “The network extended Chloe’s assignment. Again. Her delay home means we have to postpone the wedding. Again.”
Nailed it.
Chloe was a dedicated photojournalist for a major news network. Her schedule was as erratic as Evan’s was as a Navy SEAL. She and John had already pushed back the wedding date twice. Each time, John had complained about the loss of deposits and the ability to reschedule to their new preferred date, so he and Chloe had to basically start over with the preparations.
“When is she coming home?”
“Four weeks.”
Evan swore. Two weeks too late. “I’m not sure what’s worse—that the network is selfish enough to keep her away for a measly two extra weeks when they know you’re getting married or that Chloe agreed to the delay.”
“This, from the man who lets the Navy dictate his every move.”
Evan didn’t bother pointing out the differences between his job and Chloe’s, but John had a point. Evan had no business judging Chloe for doing exactly as he would’ve done—put the job first. That left one question.
“Is she staying safe?” Chloe’s desire for reporting the truth took her through some rough terrain.
John scratched his jaw. “The network might not care about her personal life, but her actual life they take very seriously. They have her back. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the political protests in South America. From what she tells me, and from what I’ve seen on the news, things have been relatively civil so far. She’ll be all right.”
Evan knew all about what was happening in South America. His team received consistent briefings as to the political unrest happening in several areas. The situation was moderately civil now, but Evan knew how quickly things could change. He didn’t like the tension brewing any more than his superiors did.
