Chapter Twelve
“Your woman doesn’t like boats.” Fallon mumbled his understatement.
Twenty minutes into the four-hour ride across the Gulf, my girl had turned sheet white. To be fair, it had been windy and choppy and the old forty-one-foot Carver was over capacity, and twenty people in the below cabin had made the air stifling.
“It’s a good thing she decided on the Army,” Mason put in. “She’d never make a Special Boat Crew.”
“I wouldn’t tell her that. She might enlist in the Navy just to prove you wrong,” Pete joined in.
I leaned back in my chair and let that wash over me—the pride and respect in Pete’s tone hit deep. It was the same way Wilson had spoken about Catarina during our op in Vegas. Wherever the woman went, she garnered the respect of the people around her.
And I almost lost her.
Movement out the window caught my attention.
Aiden was strolling across the grass, coming back up from the small, private beach behind the villa.
Berta’s connections in Belize weren’t your everyday, run-of-the-mill do-gooders.
They were rich and powerful men who believed in her cause and bankrolled her rescues.
That meant within minutes of pulling into a private dock, the women and children had been whisked away to start their new lives.
Mission complete.
We’d debrief with Berta tomorrow, then be on our way home.
My home was San Diego. Catarina’s was Prescott. She’d accepted Pete’s job offer, but she didn’t need to live in California to spin up with us. She could stay in Arizona.
The thought of losing her again, even to distance, created a sharp pain. My hand lifted and rubbed the ache in my chest. I could move, rent my house out, go back to Arizona, a place I’d lived for a few years and swore when I left the heat I’d never go back.
But for Cat, I’d deal.
For her, I’d do anything as long as she was at my side.
On that thought, how long did a shower take?
Unreasonable fear licked up my back. She’d been gone too long. The house had been cleared. Ryan had walked the perimeter. Aiden was still outside patrolling the back for no reason other than he’d wanted fresh air. She was safe.
The bruise on her jaw came to mind. The way she’d stood over Pete, protecting him while he got his bearings. The fierce look on her face when I’d rushed into the house. No one was going to hurt Pete without getting through her first.
Danger.
She’d put herself in the line of fire—again.
That knot in my gut grew.
Before I realized what I was doing, I’d pushed back from the table.
Mason’s hand grabbed my forearm, and, with force, he yanked me back down.
“Unless you’re going up there for some sexy fun time, sit your ass down.”
“It’s been—”
“Not even five minutes,” he interrupted. “I hear women take longer than that just to loofah. So, again, unless you’re headed up there to offer to wash her back . . . stay.”
He said that last part like I was his dog and he was barking a command.
“What the hell is a loofah?” Ryan asked.
My gaze met Pete’s. There was a lot the man was silently communicating, but the takeaway was that Mason was right, I needed to stay.
“No clue. Never showered with a woman,” Mason casually threw out, like he hadn’t just divulged something personal.
“Seriously?” Fallon quizzed.
Mason unwrapped a candy bar, his third since we’d been gathered around the kitchen table, and shook his head.
“Nope.” Mason’s tone made it clear that particular conversation was over.
“A loofah is used to cleanse and exfoliate the skin,” Ryan explained with his head bent to his phone, obviously reading from the internet.
“However, if not taken care of properly, they grow bacteria and can damage sensitive skin.” Head lifted, his attention came to me, and he frowned.
“Brother, I’d advise your woman to ditch the loofahs in favor of a good old-fashioned washcloth.
If it ain’t broken, no reason to court a bacterial infection in the .
. . you know.” He pointed in the general direction of his crotch.
“Who has a bacterial infection?” Cat asked as she walked into the kitchen.
I did a full body scan—hair wet and hanging loose around her shoulders, fresh jeans and tee, no shoes, no blood, all in one piece.
Safe.
She glanced around the table, made her decision, and walked directly to me. I adjusted my chair to get up so she’d have a place to sit, but the woman had other ideas when she plopped her ass in my lap.
That knot loosened, and my chest stopped aching.
“Do you loofah?” Fallon asked.
I had to hand it to the guy. He looked deadly serious for asking such an off-the-wall question.
“Do I loofah, as in, do I use a loofah?”
Fallon nodded. Cat answered, “No.”
“Then you’re bacteria-free.”
I only had Cat in profile but still I saw her gaze go around the table.
“Should I be concerned five men are sitting around talking about shower sponges and vaginosis?”
“What’s vaginosis?” Mason inquired.
Ryan already had his phone at the ready, thus he was quick to answer.
“A common vaginal infection that happens when normal bacteria . . .” He trailed off, his lips turned down, and he silently read more before he put his phone on the table.
“We weren’t talking about that. I didn’t know there was normal bacteria .
. . down there. I could’ve gone my whole life and happily died not knowing. ”
Catarina shrugged. “The more you know . . .”
“The less likely you are to participate in your favorite pastime,” Ryan finished with a lifted brow.
“That, or you’re less likely to come away with a bad—”
I squeezed Cat around the middle. “Baby, please don’t encourage them.”
Catarina shifted to look down at me and smiled. “I’m trying to educate your friends on an important topic.”
There was that smart-ass who had hooked me.
“I’m pretty sure Ryan’s well educated on the topic.”
Her smile widened and her gaze slid back to Ryan.
The guy was good looking. In the time since I’d been in California, I’d seen firsthand just how good looking the women who patronized the bar he co-owned with the rest of the team thought he was. If he didn’t want to go home alone, he didn’t.
“I can see it,” she muttered.
“See what?” Fallon was staring at Ryan with a frown.
“How he’d be well educated on women.”
Fallon relaxed back in his chair and crossed his arms. All he was missing was a beer in his hand and it would’ve been a sight I’d seen a lot over the months. It was his ‘I’m settling in for a long shit-talk session’ look.
Something he excelled at.
I glanced at Pete, Ryan, then landed on Mase. All of them were smiling at Cat. But Mase’s lips were twitching. If I didn’t shut this shit down, Mason would edge the conversation on for his own personal amusement.
“What about Ryan makes you think that? He had to google vaginosis.”
“Actually, I use DuckDuckGo,” Ryan corrected.
All eyes flew to him.
“What? I like the name. It makes me laugh.”
“Fine,” Fallon conceded. “But you still had to look it up.”
“Don’t be salty, ol’ sailor. Just because she thinks I’m more educated than you doesn’t mean she thinks you’re completely uneducated. She just recognizes refined talent.”
Mason’s shoulders started shaking in silent laughter.
And here we go . . .
“You two are cute,” Mase started, then waited until Fallon cut his gaze in his direction. “Fear not, brother, when we get to the topic of ropes and cuffs, it’ll be your turn to shine.”
I knew before she spoke Catarina was going to latch on to that like an octopus and wrap her tentacles around it until she’d squeezed every last bit of fodder she could gather.
“Really?” She giggled. “I didn’t see that coming.”
Mason sat back, damn proud of himself he’d given Cat something to chew on.
“Should I be offended?”
“I don’t know, possibly,” she told Fallon, then went in for the kill.
“You’re all big-guy cuddly like a teddy bear.
If I had to guess, I’d say Pete . . . probably, Mason, definitely like tying up their women.
” She stopped for a moment, tilted her head, and stared at Fallon.
“Wait, I can totally see it—you’re one of those service Tops I’ve read about. You like the cuddly aftercare part.”
The men around the table erupted into laughter. I buried my face in Cat’s neck and shook with humor.
Aiden came into the room asking, “What’d I miss?”
“Cat here thinks Fallon’s a cuddly service Top,” Mason supplied through his laughter.
“That was quick,” Aiden noted. “But it’s good she’s got him pegged—”
“No one’s pegging me,” Fallon groused. Then added under his breath, “I do the pegging.”
Pete pushed back from the table, stood, and clapped Fallon on the shoulder, thankfully ending the conversation. Though he wouldn’t be Pete without getting the last word in. “Just because you say it out loud doesn’t make it the truth. Now, who’s hungry?”
All eyes went to Catarina. Hers skidded to me.
“Are they looking at me because they think since I have a vagina, I should cook dinner?”
“Favor, baby. Don’t talk about your vagina in front of the guys.”
Her eyes sparked, and I knew what came out of her pretty mouth was going to be more sass. To stop this, and because I wanted to, I straightened and silenced her with a kiss.
It was closed-mouthed and too damn short, but it did the trick.
“I’m cooking,” I announced.
“You can cook?” she breathed.
“Yup.”
“Jackpot!” She threw her arms in the air and wiggled her fingers. “I knew you were a keeper.”
I got up, helped Cat into the chair I’d vacated, and was walking to the fridge when I heard Fallon mumble, “What do you know about service Tops anyway?”
I paused to hear her answer.
“What can I say? I’m educated too.”
The men all laughed again.
I didn’t.
I was eager to hear more about this education . . . but that’d have to wait until after dinner and we didn’t have an audience.
“I can’t remember the last time I ate that much food,” Cat said.
The bed dipped next to me, and I opened my eyes.
“Sorry, were you sleeping?”
“No, just resting my eyes.” I adjusted my arm in a wordless invitation.
Cat accepted and cuddled into my side. With her head on my chest, her fingertips started making mindless patterns over my stomach. Every few seconds, she’d stop and press her fingertips into the muscle before she continued her exploration.
Exhaustion had set in. The last few hours after we finished dinner I was running on fumes. Still, if Cat’s hand didn’t stop inching lower, I’d manage to rally.
“You tired, baby?”
“I could sleep for a week,” she yawned.
I tucked her closer. I’d never been the type of man who could sleep with a body draped over my chest—but that body being Catarina’s, I’d sleep better than I had in years.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she said into the darkness.
“Yep.”
“But I’m too tired.”
I gave her a squeeze and ordered, “Sleep.”
“I just want to tell you one thing first.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll move to California.”
My arm twitched in an effort not to crush her to me.
She read my shudder wrong and quickly rushed out, “I mean if that’s where we’re going and you . . . um . . . want that.”
“I want that.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
Her fingertips glided up my chest, stopping at my left pec, then her hand flattened and she left her palm there.
“Good night, Jack.”
“Night, baby.”
A few minutes later, I found I was right. In a tiny bed, in a villa on the beach, I slept better than I had for years, with Catarina Keys in my arms and the knowledge she was coming home.