Stuck with the SEAL for Christmas (Team Falcon: Agile Security & Rescue Team #2)

Chapter 1

There is no good reason for me to be thinking about my teammate’s younger sister.

Especially not contemplating whether Liberty Cruze will wear her soft-looking pink sweater when she arrives for the company’s holiday retreat.

I should have bailed.

Planned to stay holed up in my cabin. Safely away from temptation.

But…here I am.

It’s technically not too late until I’m inside; even then I could make a run for it.

“Welcome, and Merry Christmas,” a mechanical female voice says as I pass a sensor.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, “Merry Fucking Christmas. Wish me luck.”

I’m gonna need it. It doesn’t matter that her brother is going to be running block. My balls are going to be in a vise this whole damned holiday.

The sound of my pounding footfalls echoes on the polished concrete as the tunnel opens into the resort’s main facility—a cavern fit for royalty.

Or extraordinary frustration caused by proximity to a woman that I want, but shouldn’t even breathe near.

The resort might be huge, but I need states between me and Liberty.

This is a nightmare wrapped in holiday cheer.

I let out a whistle as I look around. Damn. The cave is always impressive, but now it’s decked and ready for one helluva Christmas getaway.

Too bad I feel like the Grinch.

Twinkling lights snake around exposed stone pillars. Fresh garland drapes the entrance to the great room.

A wreath hangs on the reinforced door to the armory. Apparently, even the weapons storage deserves holiday cheer.

Every surface has some kind of fresh greenery, or candle, or hand-carved woodland animal. Or….some sparkly shit.

“What the hell is that?” I lean in for a look at the pile of sparkly stuff. “Fake diamonds?”

Groaning, I drop my duffel bag on the concrete with a thud.

Clearly, the guys didn’t order up the decorations. Otherwise, it would be spent brass, shotgun shells, and whiskey bottles with candles shoved in the top.

Taking a tour around the great room, noting all the shit I’m going to harass the boss about, I roll out the tension in my shoulders.

Shit weather. Long drive. Poor visibility. Thinking about Liberty. You could break a fist punching my trapezius muscles right now.

Welcome to my life.

Whistling something I think is a Christmas tune, I head for the gleaming commercial kitchen.

“Let’s see what you ordered up, boss man.”

Knowing Marshall, Beast, and Luke, the silent partner, there’s food by the truckloads.

The fridge door weighs as much as an armored car. But what’s behind it is a feast for road-weary eyes.

“Well, hello, darling.” I grin. “Come to daddy.”

Four-hundred miles in bad weather doesn’t feel so bad when I flip open the lid on a thick-ass cheesecake that looks like a cloud covered in cranberry stuff.

It’s been waiting for me, stored in a glass dish labeled, welcome night dessert.

Welcome indeed. Welcome to my mouth.

A little voice in my head reminds me, I’m not in the field, I’m also not batching it out at my cabin where eating the entirety of anything isn’t out of the question.

“Shit. I hate guilt,” I mutter as I carry the container over to a massive counter that runs the length of the commercial kitchen.

Don’t eat the whole cheesecake.

That would be bad form.

Searching the drawers, I find a knife and insert it into the thick, creamy temptation, taking a responsible-size slice. I even deposit it onto a gold and red glass plate.

Fancy. Too bad the cheesecake will be gone in two-point-four seconds.

“Here’s to mental fortitude,” I say, toasting the air with a forkful.

I’m gonna fucking need it to stay a respectable distance from Liberty. Especially if she’s wearing something fuzzy and feminine.

My personal weakness.

On top of cheesecake.

Oh, fuck! What happens when she eats cheesecake in a fuzzy winter sweater?

I’m dead.

Unfortunately, my fork is only halfway to my mouth when my phone goes nuclear in my pocket.

Cheesecake and Liberty fantasies, or being a responsible adult?

Taking a big bite, I pull out my phone.

The device comes free from my pocket, screen glowing with the group chat that's been active for weeks planning this gathering. The whole time I was vague.

Undecided, I had said.

Every single member of the team is texting rapid-fire.

…Delayed.

…Can't make it due to the weather.

…Minor but important problem at the house.

…Something came up, I’ll be late.

…Snowstorm!

None of them are coming in the next 48 hours.

No. No fucking way.

ME: Damn, and I showed up and none of you are coming? Guess I’ll just have all this food to myself.

MARSHALL: Spence, you’re at the resort?

ME: Just got here. Figured you’d see me on the security system.

MARSHALL: Was tied up, dealing with a busted pipe.

Well. Guess I won’t have to resist Liberty. I’ll spend the next two days lounging and eating like a king. Sleeping in a big-ass king-size bed with 10,000-thread count cotton sheets that cost more than my entire bedroom set.

I figure all the texts are done, and then I get another notice.

JUSTICE: Thank God you’re there. Liberty should be getting close, but I can’t reach her cell. No service in that area. Worried as hell about her.

I freeze, my lungs seizing up. The bite of cheesecake I just swallowed lodges in my esophagus.

ME: Liberty is driving ALONE in this weather?!?!?!?

JUSTICE: We were supposed to be behind her but the highway is closed and we can’t seem to get around.

Oh shit.

Liberty’s out there in that storm by herself.

JUSTICE: Can you make sure Lib gets inside okay? Storm's getting worse.

ME: I’m worried about her making it here. DOT website says the roads are all being closed in this area.

Justice: FUCK.

ME: Roger that. Fuck is right.

I’m already running for the parking deck.

JUSTICE: Spence? You are going to look out for my sister???? She’s coming in on Route six-one-four from East. Blue 2019, CRV.”

My hand isn’t steady when I type a reply all I can think about is Liberty being in the snow, stranded on the side of the road.

ME: Copy. OTW to search for her.