Loving Tallahassee (SEAL Team: Coronado Never Out of the Fight #1)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Warlock

It’s good to be home.

We saw plenty of action on our last mission protecting a Syrian power plant from terrorists attempting to take it over and gain control of the area. The op was rough, but it was a success, and we all came back in one piece. I can’t ask for better than that.

Sure, my job is tough, but I love being a frogman and the leader of a SEAL team.

As far back as I can remember, being a team guy is all I ever wanted.

I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m career Navy.

All in, all the time. And when I leave this world, I hope I go out on the field of battle, doing what I love most, alongside the men I love most.

After four brutal days in Syria and thirty-two hours awake, I head for home and crash for the next ten hours.

When I wake up, I feel like a new man. The only problem? It’s four in the morning. One of the downfalls of the job is it doesn’t come with regular hours. We rack out whenever and wherever we can, and our sleep cycles still get screwed up. There are times when it’s hard to recall what day it is.

There isn’t anything I can do about being awake at an ungodly hour, so after I make and eat breakfast, I go for a run.

Whenever we have rough ops and a late arrival home, I try to give my guys the next morning off from our normal PT routine.

This time is no different. I’ll let them rest up this morning and surprise them later by working them relentlessly.

I grin at the thought of the objections and complaints I’m sure to hear from my brothers when they find out my afternoon plans for them.

I’m earlier than usual when I enter my favorite coffee shop after my run. The specialty café is popular, probably because it’s the only place in town that opens before the sun comes up.

Even this early, it’s a zoo. Almost every table is occupied, and there’s a line of customers waiting their turn for a morning caffeine fix. I’m not in a rush today. I’ve got plenty of time, so the delay doesn’t bother me.

While I wait, I find myself distracted by the woman standing in front of me. My eyes make the slow, deliberate trip from her sneaker-clad feet, up her long, shapely legs, lingering at the curve of her hips before traveling to the top of her golden-blonde head.

She’s wearing a white tank top over a black sports bra and tight red running shorts. It’s a toss-up whether it’s the shorts clinging to every dip and curve of her perky backside or her long, shapely legs that capture more of my attention.

Although, I can’t say I’d mind wrapping the sleek ponytail hanging down her back around my wrist while she’s on her hands and knees.

I shift from foot to foot as my cock perks up at the thought. I give my head a sharp shake and chastise myself for the inappropriate thoughts.

Normally, I’m not easily distracted by a pretty face—or in this case, a very attractive posterior—but that ass in those tight-fitting shorts should be illegal.

My curiosity spikes, speculating what she’ll look like when she turns around.

I can’t remember the last time I was this intrigued by a woman without ever seeing her face.

I wonder if she’s a regular or if it’s just my good fortune, luck, or fate we’re here together.

I consider returning tomorrow at the same time on the off chance she shows up again.

If she’s a regular, it might be worth adjusting my morning schedule to figure out a way to meet and strike up a conversation with her.

After observing her for a few minutes, I notice that she seems antsy.

Her head stays in constant motion, moving left, right, forward and back again. The fingers of her right hand tap, tap, tapping a restless rhythm on her thigh. What piques my interest is that her behavior isn’t just impatience with the long wait, it’s watchful and nervous. Wary.

And that concerns me.

I scan the café, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. There’s no obvious threat I can discern. And other than me, no one is paying excessive attention to her.

My attention is drawn to a calamity unfolding at the counter in front of us.

An impatient woman picking up her order whirls around, slamming into the guy behind her.

He’s tall and portly, standing too close.

Her coffee spills all over him. He jerks back with a shout, crashing into the woman behind him.

She stumbles into the next man in line, and all of a sudden, it’s a domino effect heading straight for my blonde goddess.

Unlike the other people in line, I’ve left enough space between me and my shorts-clad siren that if I don’t step forward to catch her, she could lose her balance and be knocked to the floor.

I move fast enough that her back collides with my chest before she can fall.

She lets out a startled yelp as grip her biceps, making sure she stays on her feet.

The contact sends a fascinating spark of electricity racing up my arms. Considering how drawn I am to her, the feeling isn’t completely unexpected.

Once she’s steady, I hear her say, “Oh gosh, I’m so—” she spins around to look up at me. “—sorry,” she finishes faintly.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of her. She’s makeup free, cheeks flushed pink, with full, kissable lips. Her form-fitting tank top doing nothing to hide her generous cleavage.

Holy hell. She’s stunning. There’s no other word for it.

I’ve seen my share of beautiful women, but this one steals the breath from my lungs.

And now that we’re face-to-face, I’m instantly ensnared by her clear blue gaze and equally intrigued by the disconcerted expression on her face.

I can’t help noticing the underlying vulnerability and fear in her blue eyes.

With her prior anxious behavior, my curiosity sharpens. What is she so afraid of?

“Thank you for saving me,” she says, stepping away so quickly it feels more like a getaway.

I grin down at her. “My pleasure.”

The chaos in front of us hasn’t yet settled. Customers are still jostling and complaining about possible burns and stains on their clothes.

The man in front of the blonde bumps into her again, pushing her into me once more. She doesn’t see it coming and lands against me with an, “Oof.” Her palms press into my chest, and this time my dick takes a more serious interest.

My hands land on her waist, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around her and tug her all the way into me. Damn, I want to kiss her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I want to keep holding her, to find out what those pouty, kissable lips taste like. But I’m a stranger who hasn’t been invited to touch her so I keep my hands on her only long enough to ensure she’s steady on her feet and doesn’t fall and damage that beautiful backside.

“I’ve got you,” I reassure her. “I won’t let you fall.”

She jumps back like I burned her. Her cheeks flush a deeper pink, and her eyes widen with suspicion. I grimace, wondering what the hell I said that has her so spooked. The last thing I want is for her to be afraid of me.

“If we’re going to keep meeting like this, maybe we should introduce ourselves,” I tell her with a smile, keeping my voice light. “I’m Warlock.”

Giving her my name seems to help soothe some of her uneasiness. Her head tilts, and an adorable little frown appears between her brows. She quickly recovers, surprising me when she asks, “Are your parents Wiccans?”

Others have speculated how I earned my call sign, but her guess is a new one. A laugh jumps out of me. “No. It’s a nickname.”

Her blue eyes sparkle brightly under the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop. “I’m Tallahassee.”

For a split second, I swear panic flickers across her face. Which is strange when all she did was give me her name.

“Unfortunately, not a nickname.” She smiles, but it’s tentative at best. “My folks are free spirits. Hippies, really.”

I’m trying not to be charmed by her, but I’m failing miserably. The longer she stands in my vicinity, the more I want to know about her. That’s not my normal reaction to a woman.

Nothing about my feelings for this woman are normal.

I’m not a man searching for a meaningful relationship, so there’s no reason to get to know a woman before I take her to my bed. But this one…I want to know everything about her. Starting with whatever keeps triggering the apprehension in her eyes.

“Well, I like it,” I tell her. “It’s unusual, which suits you. It’s nice to meet you, Tallahassee.” I’m silent for a second. “This may seem forward, but I’ve got a little time until I have to get to work. If you’re not in a hurry, would you like to sit and drink our coffee together?”

The shift in her demeanor is immediate and baffling. Both fear and anger wage war in her blue eyes.

My smile falters. I have a strong urge to wrap my arms around her and comfort her. Shield her and promise I won’t let anyone hurt her.

Where did that come from?

Her eyes dart around the café like she’s mapping escape routes. She looks perplexed and so uncertain. Her body language is screaming run.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “Are you okay? You seem nervous. If someone’s bothering you, maybe I can help.”

“No, thank you,” her voice is hard and unyielding, a one-eighty from her previous attitude. “I’m fine.”

Without another word, she skirts past me and hurries out the door forgoing her morning coffee.

What the fuck was that about?

There’s a moment where I consider chasing after her and demanding an explanation for her odd behavior but instinct tells me that would only put her more on edge.

For the rest of the day, my mind keeps wandering back to the beautiful woman with fear in her eyes. There’s something about her I’m not able to shake.

She might think bolting from the coffee shop is the end of it, but it’s not.

Not by a long shot.

Even if the café isn’t her regular coffee shop, how hard can it be to track down someone named Tallahassee?

Especially when I’m this motivated.