My Fake Fiancé (Navy SEAL Romance #3)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

PORTER

My eyes burned, struggling to stay open, and my body worked to hide its aches and sores, but I was thankful to be stateside again. After a deployment in a country not fit for humans, a sixteen-hour flight to Virginia to pick up my suit, and another flight to New York, I felt punch-drunk tired as I walked through JFK.

“You made it.” Jackson assessed me while I fell into step beside him. “We’re parked this way.” He eyed my bag. “Did you bring your suit?”

“Emily texted me twice.”

A ghost of a smile traced his lips. “Figured she would.”

At his truck, I tossed my bag into the back and hopped in beside him. “When did you get into New York?”

“We drove up yesterday.” He turned and checked me over. “You look like shit.”

That’s what happens when life kicks you in the nuts.

“The bowels of hell will do that to a person.”

He laughed as he started the engine. “Beer and steak?”

“Wouldn’t say no.”

“We gotta make a pit stop first.” He merged out of the parking lot. “ I have all of Theo’s diapers, and Emily is living on a prayer right now.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the baby blue bunny diaper bag sitting on the back seat. In the field, Jackson was one of the most ruthless and skilled operators I’d ever worked with, but around Emily and Theo, he became a different person. A better person. Better than I’d ever have the chance to be.

I needed to share my news, although I dreaded it. After three back-to-back deployments, my recently approved leave of absence would come as no surprise to anyone, but I felt like I was letting down the team. After this weekend, I’d have just four more weeks in the field, and then I was free.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken more than a week off.

“I took a L.O.A.”

“How long?”

This was where it got tricky. Most approved L.O.A.s lasted six weeks. I’d requested an open L.O.A., which meant I could take up to six months off without needing to be retested.

“It’s open.”

He hit me with his green eyes. “You good?”

“Just need to take care of some personal shit.”

Translation: my life was a mess.

No. My life was a fucking mess.

I’d pushed off dealing with any of my shit by simply signing up for deployment after deployment, but my body had started to protest. I needed to rest. The other night, my mind had wandered, and I’d almost gotten my head blown off.

Fuck me.

I cleared my throat, feeling a need to explain. “I found Felicia. She’s in New York.”

“You talk to her?”

“Just a text.”

He pulled his truck up against the curb and reached behind us to grab the diaper bag. “Give me a minute.”

As he jogged across the street with Theo’s diaper bag over his huge shoulder, I fought my first smile in a month. Hell, the only thing that made me smile these days was time spent with Theo. It was an honest-to-God honor to be his godfather. Emily and Jackson knew I’d guard that kid with my life.

A tall, leggy blonde stepped out of the building and stopped in front of Jackson. He handed her the diaper bag. She laughed at something he said, and her entire face radiated warmth and such pure fucking happiness, it almost hurt to watch.

I held my breath as the wind whipped her thick shoulder-length blond hair over her wide eyes. She wasn’t a classic beauty like Emily, nor was she a siren like Felicia, but for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She spoke with animation and pointed at something down the street. Her own story made her laugh and, in response, my dick twitched.

Hard.

Which didn’t make sense. She wasn’t my type. She was too girl-next-door. She looked too happy. But she did also look like a good dose of trouble. Exactly how I liked it. Exactly what I didn’t need.

But my brain and my cock were rarely on the same page.

Hard cock or not, I needed to get my act together. What I didn’t need was to get tangled up with a chick who looked like she could lead me around by my dick with one mischievous smile.

I forced myself to look away.

Jackson jogged back towards me. “Ready for that steak dinner now?”

“I could eat.” The question ripped out of me before I could stop it, “Who’s the chick?”

I could feel Jackson’s scrutinizing glance, but the bastard took his time answering. Long enough that I turned to see if he’d heard me. His green eyes looked amused.

“Her name is Beth.”