SEALed in Marriage

–Shank–

Oh wow! Would you look at that!

‍A hot little redhead with the cutest ass I’ve ever seen is busy demonstrating how to assemble a new model assault rifle for a prospect. The magazine she’s shoving into place looks really big because her hands are so small.

I wonder what those hands would feel like wrapped around my—

The salesman who’s been attending to my purchases at the HDS munitions booth slides between me and the redhead, obstructing my view, and interrupting my covert inspection of her magnificent ass. I lower the pair of goggles I had been trying on and focus on the salesman.

The name badge dangling from the lanyard around his neck proclaims that he’s Oliver, and he’s a sales consultant in the optical observation section. Like everybody else in the booth, apart from the cute little redhead, he’s wearing a pair of cream Chinos and a sky-blue golf shirt with the company logo for Howell Defense Systems printed on the breast pocket.

He continues his pitch with, “These all-light vision goggles are our latest innovation. They allow you to see very clearly in any kind of light because they adjust automatically. Would you like me to show you some add-ons for them as well, sir?”

“Yeah, why not?”

I follow Oliver to the counter marked Optical Observation and try not to notice the half-eaten lunch in the Styrofoam container that’s stashed behind the counter. The booth is really busy and the poor dude has probably been trying to grab quick chow between serving customers.

Oliver knows his stuff and by the time we’re done, I’ve ordered two pairs of all-light vision goggles along with most of the available add-ons, a universal scope mount for automatic weapons, and a digital laser rangefinder. They’ll be shipped to our base in Puerto Rico along with all the other stuff that I’ve ordered since I’ve arrived.

I’m at a trade show in Las Vegas, Nevada, to check out the latest defense equipment on the market. Weapons are my thing and I have a huge armory at home, but I’m not here to add to my personal collection. I’m here to buy equipment for TACS, the defense company that I started with five of my ex-SEAL buddies after we left the service.

Jelena Belov, our financier, blessed me with a huge budget, and I can really go to town and buy whatever we need. Jelena is a Russian mining heiress who appeared in our lives when one of our team members, Jax, took on a body-guarding job for her a while ago. They ended up as a couple, and that’s how we got our financing in place.

Oliver hands me the paperwork for my purchases and I use the credit card Jelena gave me to make the payment. He looks very pleased with himself, and he should be. I’ve just spent a truckload of money, and I’ll probably be back tomorrow to spend more.

Spending other people’s money is hard work and I can do with a couple of shots and some chow. The bar near the booth does a great steak burger and it seems like as good a place as any to start my evening.

Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind some female company tonight. I am in Vegas after all, and all I’ve been doing since I got here, is work. I’ll go over and take a look at some guns and chat that little redhead up. She looks like she’ll be good company, and then there’s that cute little ass of hers—

I head over to the gun section, but I don’t see her anywhere.

Damn! Maybe the dude that she was showing the rifle to had the same plan that I had, and she’s gone off with him.

Lucky bastard.

She tops all of the women I’ve seen here so far. Too bad I lucked out. She’s really pretty.

I shrug.

Oh well, I’ll just go have a couple of drinks and take it from there.

Navy SEALs have a saying that goes, the only easy day was yesterday, but it looks as if today may not be so bad either. I push my way through the crowd milling around the bar, and what do you know? There she is! I’m sure it’s that little redhead from the arms booth sitting at the bar with her back to me. I’d recognize that ass of hers anywhere, even though I only managed to get a quick look at it back in the booth. It’s the kind of ass a man remembers.

An oldish couple is huddling to her left and four sleazy-looking dudes are draped over the stools to her right. They’re definitely not with her. That leaves standing room only, so I can squeeze in on either side of her. I aim for the sleazeballs’ side.

I’m almost on target when I notice one of the sleazeballs closest to her hover his hand over her drink when she looks away. What the fuck? I swear he just slipped something into her glass.

Two steps later, I’m elbowing my way in between her and the sleazeballs.

“‘Scuze me, miss. Mind if I hang here? It seems we’re all out of seats.” I’ve got my most charming smile ready as I tap her on the shoulder.

Her head turns my way and she looks me up and down. The color of her eyes reminds me of those little blue flowers that they grow on the sidewalks in Park Slope back in Brooklyn.

“Sure. Why not?” Her voice is low and husky and the words come out in a slow drawl. Holy hell, she’s hot. My insides are doing interesting things.

She pushes her hair behind one ear and reaches for her drink. My arm swipes across the counter before she can pick it up, and whoops! The cocktail glass slides off the counter on the barman’s side and disappears from view. Disappointment and irritation manifests on the sleazeball’s countenance in the form of the worst scowl I’ve seen in a long time and I smirk inwardly.

There goes your doctored drink, you bastard.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry. Let me get you another one. What are you having?”

She throws her head back and explodes with laughter. It’s not a ladylike laugh. It’s a loud, happy, sexy sound that makes my toes curl—in a good way.

“That was a Mexican martini and a seriously bad pick-up line, all in one.” Her eyes are twinkling mischievously and her wide grin makes them crinkle at the outer corners.

“You caught me.” I try to put an embarrassed look on my face, but my satisfied grin is probably giving me away. “The name’s Shank. Pleased to meet you.” I put my hand out for her to take in greeting.

“Howdy. I’m Storm.” Her tiny hand disappears into my huge paw. Her grip is firm and her palm is cool and dry against mine. “I’ll have to wait and see whether I feel the same. It’s too early to tell, considering how you’ve been behaving, spilling my drink all over the place. Y’all might just have to prove yourself.”

And she’s got a mouth on her too! This girl ain’t no wussy. It sounds like she’s from somewhere in the South.

The sleazeballs leave and I drag the nearest barstool a bit closer to hers. I wonder for a moment what their idea was with the drink trick, but then our knees touch when I take my seat and the thought gets wings. This girl is making my head spin.

A flick of my hand brings the barman our way and takes our order for a fresh martini for her and a whisky on the rocks for me.

A Mexican martini usually comes in a shaker so that you can pour it yourself. I do the honors and present the drink to her. “I hope it’s as good as the one that you missed out on.”

“I’ll never know. I didn’t get a taste before it took a dive.”

She lowers her head a bit and looks at me sideways with a cheeky look from below her lashes as she twirls the little spear with its three olives around in the glass. She lifts the spear to her mouth and her lips wrap around the shaft as she strips all the olives into her mouth in one go. The gesture sends my mind to heavenly places and I completely forget what I want to say.

“Hmm, so far, so good.” She raises her glass. “Let us drink to bread, for without bread, there would be no toast.”

I match her with “Over the teeth, over the gums, look out stomach, here it comes!”

“That toast is for shots.” She waves a finger at me, laughing. “And for really gross medicine.”

“Well then, let’s have shots. What’s your poison?”

Her nose wrinkles as she checks the list behind the bar. “How about that one there? The Mind Eraser.”

The barman materializes as if on cue, and after a couple of minutes, our Mind Erasers appear. Mind Erasers are layered drinks with coffee liqueur, vodka, and club soda. They come with straws so that you can choose your flavors from the bottom layer up.

She challenges me with a questioning look in her eyes. “Sip or tip?”

I presume that means, should we sip the drinks through the straws, or down them.

“Tip.” My eyes meet her challenge and we raise our glasses.

“One, two, and down the hatch!” She throws her head back, opens her mouth, and pours the drink down her throat. I match her, move-for-move.

We slam our glasses down on the counter simultaneously. “Wow, that was a hoot. I hope it doesn’t really go erasing our minds,” she says, giggling.

“Another one?”

“If not, why not?” Her eyes are sparkling and she’s comfortable to be with.

Our barman is hovering nearby and the drinks appear quickly.

“Sip this time?”

“Yeah. We have to do it both ways. And no stopping. We have to go all the way.”

I try to hold back my grin. Pixie-girl, if you only knew how much I’d love to go all the way and do it both ways and every other way with you.

Her lips are parted slightly, hovering above the straw. The tip of her pink tongue slides over that full lower lip of hers and I feel myself growing slightly bigger down south.

God, woman! What are you doing to me?

Our eyes meet above our drinks and she holds up a closed fist. “I’ll start us off.” She pops up her index finger. “One.” Her middle finger joins the index finger. “Two.” Ring finger. “Go!”

Our eyes remain locked as we pull the contents of the little glasses up through the straws until slurping sounds indicate that they’re empty.

“It’s a draw,” she announces as she drops the straw from between her lips and lowers her glass.

“Shall we save the tie-breaker for later and grab some chow first?”

“I reckon that’s a fine idea. I’m suddenly so hungry, I could eat the north end off a polecat going south.”

I look around at the mass of people crowding the bar. All this noise and hubbub isn’t the best atmosphere for what I have in mind. I’d much prefer somewhere much more cozy and private, and from the way things are going, it looks like she might feel the same. “Would you like to eat here, or somewhere else?”

She tilts her head to the side and her nose crinkles adorably as she considers my suggestion. “Let’s go somewhere where they have real chairs. My legs are killing me. Between the stools at the booth and this stool here, I’ve had close on enough of perching like a frog on a rock to last a lifetime.”

“There’s a great steakhouse a few blocks away. We can walk there. You do eat steak?”

“Hell, yeah. I’ve been fed steak since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. But let’s finish our drinks first. There’s no point in letting a good martini go to waste.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart.”

“Waste not, want not, is what my Nana always says.”

“So, where does your Nana live?” I want her to keep talking. I love her voice and the way she makes her words with that slow drawl. It’s completely different from the way we speak in New York, where I come from.

“My daddy owns a cattle ranch just outside of Dallas and she lives there. She manages the ranch for him, since he’s not really interested in it that much. He prefers to be in the city to tend to his manufacturing business.”

“So, what does he manufacture?”

“Oh, he owns HDS. It’s a munitions factory. We have a booth here at the show. I’m supposed to supervise and do the cashing up, but it gets boring, so I help out with sales when I feel like it. So, what are you doing here anyway?”

“I came to check out the latest defense equipment. I was at your dad’s booth just before I came here—got some good stuff from your guy, Oliver.”

“Yeah, he knows his stuff.” She puts down her empty glass and slips off the barstool. When we’re both on solid ground, I realize how tiny she is. She could fit in under my armpit quite easily. “I’m done and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. Let’s go get that steak you promised me.” She grabs her purse off the counter and tosses the strap over her head, slinging the strap crossways over her shoulder so that the bag sits on her hip. The strap goes to lie between her breasts.

Cute. I wish I was that strap.

When we’re both on solid ground, I realize how tiny she is. She could fit in under my armpit quite easily.

We weave our way through the crowds of bored-looking people milling around aimlessly along aisle after aisle of identical-looking booths. Overeager salesmen are rattling off their bullshit about the products’ superior features. We have to maneuver between people and the overfilled trash cans stuffed with Styrofoam containers and discarded coffee cups that line the aisles. It’s an environmental nightmare, considering that this is supposed to be an Enjoy the Outdoors show. Near the exit, a bunch of lookie-loos are watching a security guard who appears to have apprehended a shoplifter. We circumvent them and then, we’re out.

I don’t have to adjust my stride too much to match hers—she takes long, confident steps like someone who’s used to walking. The shop windows along the sidewalk throw back her reflection and I take advantage of them to get a good look at her.

She’s wearing a pair of low-cut jeans tucked into a pair of ankle boots with a body-hugging tank top. Her perky boobs gently bob with every step she takes and her sun-tanned arms are well-toned. They speak of some serious work with weights in a gym. Her belly is flat enough to iron a shirt on and her ridiculously small waist curves out to a pair of voluptuous hips that sway as she walks. Even though she takes big steps, she’s as graceful as a cat. She sure is a feast for the eyes and on top of that, she’s fun.

It’s just a flash in the reflection in the window, but I’m sure I see those sleazeballs from the bar disappearing into a doorway about half a block behind us. My eyes miss nothing. It comes from being a SEAL, and on top of that, I’m feeling kind of protective over this precious little package I’ve got with me.

Damn assholes are probably out on the prowl for their next prey. People like that make my hackles rise. On another day, I’d probably go after them and give them some shit, but right now, I have bigger fish to fry.

I’m going all out to win the favors of this beautiful creature by my side, and I’m not in the mood for a turf war. I haven’t found a woman who turns me on and fascinates me the way Storm does in a long time. Correction—in forever. I feel a bit like a schoolboy on my first date. And if they think they’re going to screw this up for me, they are in for one hell of a surprise.

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