SEAL Summer Escape

Chapter 1

M ASON “RIPTIDE” RYAN jumped and shot the basketball from the three-point line, listening to the “swoosh” of the ball as it sunk into the net after sailing through the air. He smoothly landed back on the blacktop and swiped his brow with his forearm.

Nothing like an outside game of hoops on a gorgeous evening, the salty ocean air from a few blocks away blowing around them.

“Whoo-hoo, sailor!” a woman from a group hanging outside the fence of the basketball court shouted. “You can sink into me anytime!”

“Becky!” her friend admonished, shushing her.

Mason smirked as the two women walked away, sashaying in their skimpy shorts and tank tops. He and his teammates were playing on a court at the edge of base, where some of the local women were known to congregate in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Navy SEALs.

And vice versa.

Nothing wrong with playing ball with his buddies while he had a few attractive women cheering them on.

He watched the hips of the woman who’d shouted at him temptingly sway back and forth as she and her friend moved toward a row of men jogging around the perimeter, pausing to smile and wave at the young recruits.

Her short shorts barely covered her ass.

Hell.

Those type of women didn’t seem to care whose bed they ended up in—as long as it was the bed of a military man.

He’d been all about those types in his younger days but just didn’t find them as tempting lately.

Didn’t mean the younger guys weren’t happy to take them home for the night though.

“Three points!” his team member Noah “Viper” Miller shouted, clapping him on the back. “You boys owe us a round of beers.”

Mason chuckled, glancing over at the two other members of their Navy SEAL team across the blacktop. “Anytime you guys wanna pay up works for me,” he said with a grin. “I could go for a couple of beers.”

“Hell, you just want to see Taylor again,” Jacob “Joker” Olson said, bending down to grab the basketball that had rolled to the edge of the court.

He easily palmed it with one large hand, glancing up as the roar of twin jet engines temporarily drowned them out, two F-15s from the nearby naval air station flying across the sky.

“Affirmative,” Mason said. “Not that I’ve convinced her to go out with me yet.”

“She got any friends?” Jacob asked.

“The hell if I know,” Mason replied, sauntering toward one of the buildings on base as the rest of the men followed behind him.

“She barely said a word the last time we were at Anchors. Usually she’ll hang out for a bit even if she’s working.

Take her time passing out drinks and grub so we can flirt a little. ”

Anchors, a popular bar on the Virginia Beach oceanfront, wasn’t far from their Navy base at Little Creek. It was always filled with single military men and local women, both looking for a good time, but Mason had taken interest in one of the waitresses there in particular.

And his teammates had clearly noticed.

He imagined the flush that always spread across Taylor’s face as he teased her when he was there with his buddies, that dark brown ponytail swinging back and forth as she moved around the bar, and those chocolate brown eyes warming up every time she looked at him.

Ryker “Bulls Eye” Fletcher raised his eyebrows, his gray eyes flashing. “Think everything’s okay?”

“Dunno,” Mason grunted, stalking toward the door. “She gave me her number a few weeks ago but has been busy every time I’ve asked her out.”

“Crash and burn,” Jacob said with a howl of laughter. “Guess she wasn’t interested after all.”

“Hell, it feels like it,” Mason said, pulling open the door and flashing his ID. “I haven’t seen much of her since we got back from Bogota. Maybe she thought I was blowing her off by not showing up at the bar like usual.”

“She knows you’re a SEAL,” Ryker said. “Taylor knows the drill. We disappear for a while and then come back. Same with half of the other guys in Anchors. No harm, no foul.”

Mason shrugged as they moved toward the locker room. “Something still feels off. She was always flirty in her texts before—flirty yet unavailable, I might add.”

“Shit, you’ve been texting her? Was she sending you fucking heart emojis or something?” Ryker asked with a chuckle.

“Very funny, jackass,” Mason said as he opened his locker. He pulled his sweaty tee shirt up over his head, ready to hit the showers.

“Man,” Jacob muttered beside him. “First Hunter and Colton find women of their own, and now you, too? Maybe the Delta team can have a triple wedding or something.”

Their SEAL team leader Hunter “Hook” Murdock had met his girlfriend Emma in London while on the run from terrorists.

Colton “C-4” Ferguson had met Camila as part of their op to take down her father, a notorious drug lord in Bogota.

Neither of the SEALs had expected to fall for the women they’d rescued, but both Emma and Camila had moved to Virginia Beach and seemed happy as hell to be with their men.

And Colton and Hunter were now very much absent from their evening games of basketball and nights out at Anchors.

“I’m not with Taylor,” Mason said. “I like her—so shoot me. She’s gorgeous, and it’s cute as hell the way she always blushes around me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to marry the woman or something. Hell, I haven’t even taken her out yet.”

Ryker snickered, stripping off his own shirt. He balled it up and tossed it aside. “Bang her first, bro. No need to rush into marriage.”

Mason muttered to himself, slamming his locker shut.

The rest of his SEAL team was single and more than happy to play the field.

To take home a different woman every week.

What the hell did he expect? If a woman they were interested in wasn’t readily available, they moved on to the next good-looking chick to come by.

No harm, no foul.

Why was he so hung up on Taylor anyway?

If she’d thrown herself at him and begged him to take her home for the night, would the thrill of the chase be gone?

It wasn’t that though, he rationalized. She was different than the type of women he usually went after. More reserved. Quieter. Shy.

But something about the way she always looked at him thrilled him to no end.

If she blushed that much just from being near him, he’d love to see how she reacted if he bent over and stole a kiss. Pulled her down on the sofa at his place and made out with her.

Took her to bed and enjoyed her for hours.

“Hell,” Noah said, stopping beside him, gripping his towel around his waist as he headed for the showers. “Just ask her if everything’s okay. Women like that shit.”

“And suddenly you’re an expert on women,” Mason chuckled.

“The last woman I took home didn’t have any complaints,” Noah quipped.

Mason smirked as his buddy walked off. Damn it all to hell. It wasn’t his place to worry about Taylor, a woman he for all intents and purposes barely knew.

They were acquaintances, barely. Not friends. Not dating. Not lovers.

He had a nagging feeling something wasn’t exactly right though. And as a Navy SEAL, he’d been trained to follow his instincts. To be aware and observant at all times.

The question was, even if something was going on in Taylor’s life, they were practically strangers. A few texts and flirty dinners where she waited on their table weren’t exactly the start of a relationship.

Would she even want his help?

***

T HIRTY MINUTES LATER , Mason was driving down the highway from Little Creek toward Virginia Beach. His stereo blasted through his SUV, and the ocean breeze blew in through his open windows.

He passed a couple of large high-rise hotels, aiming for the parking garage close to Anchors.

They were at Uncle Sam’s beck and call 24/7.

Getting called on a mission meant they were wheels up within hours.

Most of his team was still single, and they enjoyed nights out when they were all stateside.

Hell, the other SEAL team stationed at Little Creek, the Alpha SEALs, were all married or in a serious relationship. A couple of them had kids already.

Mason pulled into a parking garage along Atlantic Avenue, the long stretch of road that ran along the busy section of Virginia Beach. He hopped out of his SUV, setting the alarm before crossing the dimly lit garage and walking down the block toward Anchors.

A gentle breeze blew in from the ocean. His gaze swept the area on the boardwalk—although there were a few people strolling along the water, it was nothing like the summer months when tourists flocked to the area.

He pulled open the door to the popular bar, the sounds of music and laughter and scent of fries and burgers hitting him. A long bar stretched across one side of the restaurant, but his gaze landed on their usual spot.

Hunter and Emma were already nestled at a table at the back, Emma sitting comfortably on Hunter’s lap. Hunter lifted his chin in greeting as he saw Mason, his arms wrapped around his woman.

His tattoo peeked out beneath his shirt sleeve, the scruff of his beard just beginning to look shaggy, and Mason smirked at how different Hunter and his Ph.D. girlfriend were. If they weren’t an example of opposites attracting, he didn’t know what was.

“Where’s everyone else?” Hunter asked.

“Must be busy doing their make-up or something,” Mason quipped, sinking into a seat.

Emma burst into laughter, brushing her red hair off of her face. “Brilliant,” she said in her British accent. “I’d love to see them in some lipstick and rouge.”

“Rouge?” Mason asked, wrinkling his brow.

“The hell if I know,” Hunter said, taking a pull of his beer. “Apparently it’s all the rage in London.”

“I’d look as white as a ghost without any makeup on,” Emma chided him. “I’ve got fair skin that needs all the help it can get.”

“You look perfect,” Hunter corrected her, taking her smaller hand in his and kissing the back of it. “Gorgeous.”

“Keep it in your pants, Hook,” Mason said, calling him by his nickname.

Hunter guffawed as Emma’s cheeks turned a rosy shade.