Chapter 8
After hours of personal debate, he decided he needed a woman’s perspective and called his daughter.
“Daddy, this is a surprise. Hang on. I need to move somewhere quiet.”
Trevor cringed. Of course his daughter would be out. It was nearly eight-thirty on a Friday night on the East Coast. Although they talked often, she’d never mentioned any man in particular. The pounding music dimmed until it was barely audible.
“Daddy, are you all right? Is everything okay?” Linda truly sounded concerned.
“I’m fine, sweetie. I’m sorry I called you this late. We can just talk on Sunday like usual.” He felt terrible pulling her away from the party or club or whatever.
“Daddy,” she said sternly. “You never call me during the week. This must be serious. Talk to me, please,” she pleaded.
He let out a heavy sigh. He had her on the phone and he might as well tell her. Maybe she could help him. “I don’t know if your brother mentioned it to you or not, but I have a date tomorrow night with Marta.”
She squealed so loud he yanked the phone away from his ear.
“No. Neither of the boys said anything to me, but I’m so glad that you are dipping your toe in the dating pond.
I’ll warn you, though, sometimes I think it’s more of a cesspool than a pretty country pond filled with colorful fish.
And I’m so glad you’re going out with Marta.
I really do like her.” Linda finally took a breath.
“Now, modern dating rules have changed a lot…but not for you. You’re my dad.
You can hold her hand after the meal while walking her back to the car.
A brief peck on the cheek is all you’re allowed on the first date. By the way, where are you taking her?”
That was his little girl. She didn’t hesitate to tell him exactly what she thought. Never had. He’d come to love her honesty. Trevor chuckled. “Are you done? Is it finally my turn to talk?”
“Daddy.” She drew the word into six syllables.
“First, we’re not going out. She’s actually scheduled a professional chef to cook supper for us at her house. We agreed to keep this first date very private. As you know, the gossip mill on base is faster than a rocket propelled grenade.”
“ Ooh . Good thinking. I’ll bet Marta came up with that, didn’t she?” Linda nailed it.
“Yeah, why?”
“Men don’t think about those things. Marta has spent her whole career concerned about appearances when it came to the admirals she’s worked for.
I’m sure it’s just second nature for her.
Besides, since she’s your administrative assistant,” Linda emphasized the title, “she’s well aware of how office affairs are frowned upon. ”
“We are two single consenting adults. We’re not having some kind of an illicit affair, we’re having Beef Wellington.
The chef will be there cooking for us the entire time, so we’re adequately chaperoned.
” When he stopped to take a breath, he heard his daughter laughing.
It was a beautiful sound. He didn’t care that it was at his expense.
“Oh my God, Daddy.” She giggled again trying to get herself under control. “If and when you do finally have an illicit affair, I don’t want to know about it. Promise me that you will never discuss your sex life with me, and I’ll do the same for you.”
“Deal.” Trevor didn’t want to think about his baby girl having sex, although he was pretty sure she was no longer a virgin. That was okay, she and Sam were turning twenty-five in October.
“Now, back to my date. Is it corny to take her flowers? Marta said that the wine pairing is included so it would be stupid for me to bring a bottle of wine, right?” Trevor hated that he didn’t know these things.
“Here’s the deal about flowers; color matters. Red roses are the traditional symbol of love. Little pink roses are what you give your little girl like the ones you bought me for my sixteenth birthday.”
He hadn’t actually bought her those pretty pink flowers for her birthday, his secretary had suggested it and he’d handed her his credit card.
Sylvie had known how distracted he was as commanding officer of DevGru—often referred to as a SEAL Team six—with so many men on deadly missions across the globe.
The smiles on Linda’s and Carol’s faces had been worth every dime of the last-minute delivery.
Sam had jokingly asked about his flowers.
It was probably the only time that one twin had received something special from him and the other hadn’t.
“White roses are all about purity and innocence, and that’s not the two of you.
” His daughter’s words brought him out of his memories.
“Yellow is for friendship and happiness so yellow would be okay, but roses send a message of seriousness and relationship. A pretty fall bouquet would be nice with no meaning attached to it.” Then she warned, “Buy them from a florist. Don’t you dare pick them up at the grocery store. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” he joked. “No grocery store flowers.” He thought for a moment and couldn’t remember ever seeing flowers in the Commissary.
Since he lived on the base, he shopped on base.
Maybe stores in the city had flowers. His thoughts wandered to where the closest florist was since it was already late on Friday night.
Could he order a bunch for the next day?
Probably not. Flowers moved to the top of his list for Saturday morning.
“Since you’re going to her house, don’t dress up too much. Khaki trousers and a dark blue polo shirt will look nice and bring out the blue in your eyes.”
Trevor was shocked. He had no idea women noticed eyes. Thinking about it for the very first time, he had no clue what women looked at and considered significant. “It’s crucial for my shirt to match my eyes? The color of my eyes is important?”
“Yes.” She drew out the word.
His daughter’s tone told him that he was a dumb fuck. And he was. He didn’t know anything about this world of dating in the twenty first century.
“The polo shirt will show off your biceps, too,” she added.
“Now you’re just bullshitting in me. Women don’t look at biceps on men my age.”
“Oh, Daddy, you have so much to learn about single women your age.” Her words weren’t exactly comforting. Fact was, they scared the shit out of him.
“Hey, babe,” someone said in the background, “you coming back in? We’re ordering another round.”
“Yeah, order me another cosmo. I’ll be there in a minute,” Linda answered.
“Daddy, what else can I help you with? Oh, I thought of one more thing. Make sure your socks don’t have holes in them and don’t you dare wear military shoes.
I saw a pair of boat shoes when I helped you move.
Wear those. It’s California, though, so sandals would be okay too. But definitely not sandals with socks.”
“What’s the big deal with socks?”
“Marta seems like the kind of woman who doesn’t wear shoes in the house. When you step in, look for a little mat to the side of the front door. If there are shoes, take yours off so you don’t track sand into her home.”
Now he understood the holey socks requirement.
Maybe he’d just wear sandals. Definitely without socks.
That brought up visions of the old men with skinny legs in Florida when he was stationed at USSOCOM in Tampa.
He shuddered. After a three-year tour in heaven’s waiting room , he and Carol had sworn they would never retire to Florida.
“Thank you, sweetie. Fall bouquet from a florist, dark blue shirt to match my eyes. Decision made. I’ll be barefoot inside my sandals. I got it.” He smiled even though she couldn’t see him. “Go have fun with your friends.”
“Love you, Daddy. Let me know how it went when we talk on Sunday. Bye.” She disconnected the line.
Did he even own a dark blue polo shirt? A stop at the BX may also be needed.
Promptly at six, wearing a new blue polo shirt, a huge bouquet of fall flowers in hand, Trevor rang the doorbell at Marta’s house.
She greeted him with a cheerful smile. “Come in. Right on time.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding.
One step inside the door he handed her the flowers, hiding his glance at the floor.
Four pairs of shoes. His gaze instantly slid to Marta’s bare feet.
She wore skintight white jeans that started several inches above her small ankles.
He took in strong shapely calves and well-developed thigh muscles.
Her hips rounded to a small waist where she’d tucked in the silky blouse that scooped down in the front where he caught a glimpse of breasts that somehow looked larger.
He saw her every day in the office and had never thought of her as well endowed.
No doubt, she hid that beautiful figure of hers while at work.
He grinned. She was allowing him to see the real her.
“Let me put these in a vase of water. Chef Jorge is almost set up.” She turned and walked away from him as he admired her backside.
He liked her curves. Several of the single commanders seemed to prefer stick-thin women who pushed lettuce around a plate.
He didn’t think Marta was like that. She was high-octane and that on-the-go lifestyle required calories.
Trevor slid out of his sandals and placed them next to Marta’s flip-flops.
He caught up to her in seconds, gathering only a glimpse of her living room.
When he entered the kitchen, the vase sat in the sink filling with water while she cut the plastic wrap off the flowers.
Multitasking, as usual. She dropped the stems into the water and fluffed them into a gorgeous bouquet before setting them at the far end of the island counter.
She walked straight to him, lightly setting her hands on his shoulders, she went on tiptoes and brushed a kiss over his cheek. “Thank you. The colors are stunning. Summery.”