The SEAL's Secret Daughter Read online

“You sound surprised.”

  She held up her palm. “I wasn’t trying to offend you.”

  “No, I know. I’m surprised, too.”

  They parked and went inside the VFW. It was already crowded and he was holding Monica’s hand again, but she was stiffer than usual. Man, he’d never had to work this hard to get a woman to relax around him. Was she embarrassed to be seen with him?

  “It looks like an army of leprechauns threw up in here,” Ethan said over the band doing their rendition of the Dropkick Murphys on stage. Big Rhonda and the Roadsters played most of the local gigs and always tailored their playlist for the occasion.

  Monica wrapped her free arm across her waist, but at least she kept her head raised. “I heard the kids at the elementary school did the shamrocks and pots of gold decorations.”

  “That explains why there’s so many rainbows made out of construction paper. I was beginning to question the crafting skills of my fellow veterans.”

  Her smile was tight, as though she appreciated his joke, but was too uncomfortable to actually laugh out loud. “The VFW is donating 25 percent of the proceeds back to the school tonight. So I guess we better do our part and grab something to drink.”

  This was it. Ethan steeled his courage and gave a nod as he followed her over to the crowded bar.

  Seeing the rows of liquor bottles lined up against the mirrored shelves behind the bartender no longer made him sweat with the inner battle of denying himself something he desperately wanted. Nor was he threatened by the fact that the bartender was married to one of the guys in his Monday night meetings and would surely tell her husband that Ethan had relapsed if he ordered anything stronger than a soda. No, the thing that had him gritting his teeth and pushing up the long sleeves of his black shirt was the conversation that would be sure to follow after he ordered.

  “I’ll take a pint of Guinness,” Monica said to the bartender over the deafening sound of the bagpipes the lead singer was attempting to play.

  “I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Ethan finally said, and the woman behind the bar gave him a slight nod of approval. Not that they both weren’t well aware that an alcoholic could easily get their hands on a drink at a party like this.

  Monica tilted her head and, before she even opened her lips, Ethan knew what her question would be. “You’re not having a beer? It’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

  Unless it was an old Navy buddy who didn’t know he’d gotten sober, Ethan could usually respond with a simple explanation of I don’t drink and those who were polite didn’t push. But Monica deserved to know the full truth instead of a puzzling nonresponse.

  “You know those meetings I go to on Monday nights?” he asked and watched her face as the pieces fell into place. “They’re AA meetings. I’m an alcoholic, Monica.”

  She didn’t flinch or back away in disgust and she didn’t narrow her eyes at him. However, she did study him for an uncomfortable amount of time without saying anything.

  The weight of her stare settled over him despite the fact that his head was pivoting around to everyone else in the hall so that he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with her. Ethan’s fingers began twitching and he scratched the back of his neck.

  “I changed my mind,” Monica told the bartender when the woman set a frothy pint on the polished oak in front of them. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, too.”

  “No,” Ethan replied immediately, his skin prickling with unease. He gave the bartender a pointed look and said, “No, she’ll keep the Guinness.”

  Monica put a hand on his bicep, but his muscles were far too tight for her touch to penetrate his senses. “Ethan, if you’re not going to drink, then—”

  “Don’t do that, Mon. Don’t treat me differently now that you know.”

  “I’m not trying to treat you differently. It’s just that I don’t want to...” She trailed off, the same way most people did when they didn’t know how they should act in front of an alcoholic.

  “Tempt me?” he asked, then tried to ease the awkwardness by giving her a wink. “Listen, that dress you have on is way more tempting than some bitter, dark draft beer.”

  His words had the desired effect and a warm blush spread across her cheeks. He watched the muscles in her neck constrict as she swallowed before replying. “Honestly, it’s okay. I don’t even drink that often. The only reason I ordered it was because everyone else had them and I thought it would help me relax.”

  “Well, I’m all for you relaxing—” he passed the beer to her “—and cutting loose a little bit.”

  It was then that her eyes narrowed. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was going to try to take advantage of her. Or couldn’t be trusted.

  “Fine.” He took the beer back and handed it to the bartender, who was now ignoring her other customers and actively watching their conversation. “She’ll have a Diet Coke. But keep the Guinness on my tab and give it to one of those ol’ boys at the end of the bar over there.”

  Monica followed his nod toward several older men who’d probably never been to Ireland but were wearing matching green sashes and tweed caps and singing along to “Whiskey in the Jar.”

  Ethan took their diet sodas and they made their way to an abandoned table in the corner, but not before several local townspeople said hello or tried to wave them over toward the dance floor. Ethan gave most people a nod, but Monica kept her eyes faced forward as though she didn’t see anyone or anything except for the safety of the perimeter of the room.

  Yep, the gossips’ tongues would be wagging tonight. He pulled out a metal folding chair for Monica and then moved another one closer beside her so they could talk without having to yell over the music.

  His date might be shy, but she was also intelligent and curious, so it didn’t take her long to ask, “So how long have you been...uh...”

  “Sober?”

  She nodded as she took a sip from her straw.

  “Almost eighteen months.”

  “Do you still struggle with it?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Every day can be a struggle, but some days are easier than others. And I’ve gotten much better at knowing my red flags and staying in tune with what my body needs.”

  “What do you mean ‘what your body needs’?” she asked, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down at her bare legs, her thighs more exposed by the way her dress had shifted higher when she sat down. She followed his gaze and cleared her throat.

  He didn’t bother to hide his guilt behind his smirk. “When I’m excited or angry or full of energy, my body craves an outlet, a way to release some of the adrenaline I tend to build up. When I’m bored or lonely or thinking about things that I’ve messed up in the past, my body craves a distraction to keep me from dwelling on all the crap. I used to use alcohol to regulate both, but that’s no longer an option. Part of the appeal when I made my decision to move to Sugar Falls was the fact that there’s no shortage of extreme sports here to keep me engaged.”

  “I heard you were an adrenaline junkie.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Sounds like being a Navy SEAL was the perfect job for you.”

  “It was. Until it wasn’t.”

  The lines above her nose creased into a V. “Why do I feel like there’s a story behind that?”

  He gave a light chuckle, but his chest felt hollow inside. “Let’s save that story for our second date.”

  “Ethan.” She turned her shoulders toward him and took a deep breath. “It’s one thing to joke about this being a date, but I think we both know that nothing serious can happen between us.”

  “Do we both know that? Because I have a feeling you only came to that conclusion after you found out about me being in recovery.”

  “No, that has nothing to do with it.” She leaned forward. “I’ll admit that I toyed with the idea of going out wi
th you, but that was before.”

  “Before you found out I was an alcoholic?” he asked and took a gulp of his soda, wishing it had just a splash of something stronger to sting his throat. To burn away the shame filling his chest.

  “No. Before Trina showed up and Gran got worse and we both had to deal with all these other complications of having family members depending on us.” She pushed her glasses up farther on her nose, the serious librarian about to call him to task. “My whole life is centered around my grandmother right now and it wouldn’t be fair to get involved in a relationship when I can’t fully commit to it. You can’t honestly tell me that your life hasn’t been thrown out of whack by finding out you have a daughter.”

  “It one hundred percent has been thrown off.” He rolled his shoulders back as though he was preparing to do some heavy lifting. “But hell, I was never really relationship material to start with. Nobody is saying we need to commit to anything, Mon. But if you’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you, I don’t see why we can’t spend time together and help each other out with mutual needs.”

  One eyebrow shot above the rim of her glasses. “Mutual needs?”

  Crap. He used to be much smoother at this sort of thing.

  “Okay, that didn’t come out the way I meant. I just know that I like being with you. I also like helping you out. Listen, we can both agree that we have too much going on to get serious about anything else, but we also both needed someone to step in and ease the tension. Come on, don’t you ever need a break?” He hesitated. “A physical release?”

  “Physical release?” she hissed, looking at the nearby tables, probably to make sure nobody overheard them. Her cheeks were now stained pink, her full lower lip twisted between her teeth as she watched him. “I hope this is your way of asking me to be your partner for one of your extreme sports.”

  “Right now, I just want you to be my dance partner,” he said when the strains of “Danny Boy” started. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “We can discuss how extreme and how physical we want to get after that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Monica let Ethan pull her close on the dance floor, her body fitting perfectly against his.

  She’d known that there were AA meetings at the community rec center on Monday nights, but she hadn’t even put two and two together and figured out that was where he went when he’d leave Trina at her house.

  That’s how blind she’d allowed herself to become when it came to the man.

  Not that it should matter that he was a recovering alcoholic, but having experienced her own father’s preferences for addiction over family and everything else, Monica couldn’t help but think of Ethan differently now.

  The problem was that her body didn’t think of him differently. Her arms still had a will of their own as they wrapped around his neck and her hips took charge of everything else below as they swayed against him.

  When the song ended, he didn’t release his grip from her waist, but he did lean back and wait for her to lift her head from his shoulder. “So we’ve officially fulfilled our promise to your gran. Now what?”

  Now we go home and never see each other again, was what she should’ve said. However, it wasn’t like she could simply avoid him or go back to pretending that he was just some flirtatious customer she could forget about at the end of her shift. They would obviously have to interact in the future, their lives in this small town were already too intertwined.

  His gaze was heated, his grin was smug and his earlier words were still ricocheting inside her head.

  Don’t you ever need a break? A physical release?

  From the very center of her core nestled against him, to her fingertips resting along his open collar, Monica ached with a need for some sort of release. As he waited for her answer, the challenge hung in the air between them. If he’d just put the proverbial ball in her court, the least she could do was control what happened from here on out.

  There were plenty of things in her life right now that she couldn’t control, including her body’s reaction to him. If they got the physical stuff out of the way once and for all, though, her mind would be able to focus on the bigger picture around her. And Ethan Renault was definitely not a part of Monica’s bigger picture.

  She’d already made it clear that neither one of them were in any position to enter into a serious relationship, and really, a carefree bachelor like him would be grateful that she didn’t want anything more.

  This was the type of relationship her mom had warned her about. The kind where she didn’t use her head, and put her own physical needs first. Yet, if she was careful—and Monica was always careful—she should be able to keep things strictly physical with Ethan. That way, her heart would stay safe and her mind would stay sane.

  Monica might’ve wrestled with the decision all night, but a shimmying, eighty-something-year-old in a green leather bustier and shamrock-shaped sunglasses wiggled up beside them and tossed a plastic strand of beads over Ethan’s head.

  “Hey, Lieutenant Renault, you gonna stand here all night making schmoopie eyes at my favorite waitress or are you two gonna dance?” Freckles asked.

  “That depends.” Ethan lifted his dark brow at Monica.

  “You only live once, darlin’.” Freckles winked at her before stage-whispering, “I don’t think I need to tell you what I’d do if I had a man like him looking at me like that.”

  Monica nearly shrieked out loud as her boss gave her a playful swat on the rear before boogying off. Swallowing down her embarrassment and not wanting to cause any more of a scene, Monica finally answered Ethan’s original question about what to do next. “Now we go back to my place.”

  She didn’t have to repeat herself. He was already holding her hand, pulling her through the crowd of people who’d arrived late. If they hadn’t left their jackets and her purse at the table, she was sure Ethan would’ve hauled her straight to the car right then. As it was, it took them another five minutes to collect their things because people kept stopping them to ask about Gran.

  By the time they got to the parking lot, Monica’s cheeks were sore from the fake smile she’d pasted on every time she’d told a neighbor or an old friend that her grandmother was doing as well as could be expected. Her nerves were shot and her pulse was humming from Ethan’s steady grip and the way he’d stayed by her side, continuously steering her away from any uncomfortable conversations as he guided her toward the exit.

  “Normally, I try to duck out of a party with nobody seeing me,” she admitted when they got to his truck. “But that was the smoothest, quickest escape I’ve ever had to suffer through. How did you learn to work a room like that?”

  “Hostage negotiation training.”

  Of course. He’d been a part of one of the most elite special forces in the military. Not that she planned to go up against him in battle, but it was a reminder that he was likely more skilled when it came to outmaneuvering and outstrategizing.

  Ethan shifted into reverse and then put his arm across the seat. But instead of looking out the rear window, he lifted his fingers and toyed with one of her loose curls. “So, we’re going back to your place?”

  “Yes,” she said, then gulped, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. “But we should establish a few guidelines.”

  “What kind of guidelines?”

  “The usual, I guess. You probably have more experience in this department than me.”

  “Are we talking about sex?”

  “Casual sex,” she clarified.

  “Right. And you think I’m more experienced?”

  “Than me? Definitely.”

  “Sounds like you don’t know me very well.”

  “Okay, then let’s start there.” She hadn’t gone through the same training as him, but she’d once read a book about negotiations. Hopefully, that was close enough to at least giv
e off the appearance that she knew what she was talking about. “Rule one. No need to get to know each other that well. This is just physical. It’s not a job interview.”

  “We’re going to have rules?” Ethan’s fingers tapped against the seat back. “Sounds pretty job-like if you ask me.”

  “Rule two,” she continued. “Our families and our work come first. So we can only...you know...be together when we’re not otherwise occupied.”

  “Rule three,” he countered. “Let’s not have so many rules.”

  “No, we need them to keep us from taking this attraction to the next level. It would be good for both of us if we set out the boundaries ahead of time.”

  His heat-filled gaze across the dim lights of the dashboard was just as intense as a caress, causing a shiver to race down her spine. “I will never do anything that would make you uncomfortable, Mon. At least, not on purpose. Contrary to what you might think about me, I’m not totally undisciplined. I do have some self-control.”

  “I don’t think you’re undisciplined,” she protested.

  He chuckled. “Are you trying to convince me? Or convince yourself?”

  “I’m convinced that you’re the only regular customer in the café who always orders the same healthy breakfast every morning. A boring diet like that takes a lot of discipline.”

  “Hmm,” he replied, not sounding completely persuaded by her weak example as he finally backed out of the parking lot.

  Okay, so maybe Monica had doubted his self-control, especially when it came to him being around so many alcoholic drinks at the VFW earlier. She’d read that addicts often lied to cover up their vices. In fact, Ethan’s unsuitability worked in her favor because it would allow her to get close to him physically, while requiring her to maintain her distance emotionally.

  He remained quiet throughout the short drive to her house and didn’t say anything as he followed behind her up to the front porch, waiting patiently while she unlocked the door and then switched on the light in the entryway. It was odd enough going inside and not having Gran there waiting for her, but Ethan’s silent and controlled movements were even more unsettling. Either he was holding himself back, waiting for her to change her mind. Or he was conserving his energy, a predator preparing to pounce upon his prey.