A SEAL at Heart Read Online Free Page A

her husband and then switched that intense gaze to Jack that held him captive for a few seconds. He caught the residual affects of her joy and the strength was Grade A.
    “Nice to meet you, too,” he replied, relieved that he hadn’t blurted out some silly comment about Hank’s wife having a nice rack or the fact they looked good together. His guess was that Hank had already measured those assets for himself. Giving them all a smile and a nod, he slowed his pace and let them surge ahead.
    Social graces weren’t his thing. He hadn’t been to Dick’s Last Resort in years, but his recollection was that the food was tasty and the beer was ample. That had to be enough to work for him tonight.
    After making a show of eyeballing his phone, he pocketed it. Then he looked in the windows of several nearby stores. Stop stalling!
    He forced himself to walk the extra twenty feet, flashed his military ID, and went inside. The din of voices and music was momentarily deafening. A passing waitress pushed a beer into his empty hand. He gripped it gratefully.
    His instincts took charge, taking him to an optimal vantage point, one that afforded him an overview of the comings and goings of the bar. Nothing could halt either that habit or the training, except a conscious decision to set his back to the door. When that happened, he’d have to trust the expressions of the people around him to alert him to danger. It was a hard-earned skill to be able to utilize ordinary passersby as mirrors.
    As he drank, he watched a couple argue. The wife was seriously pissed. Jack was glad he wasn’t in that guy’s shoes. At another table, a group of ladies were making plans for later. Then there was the small group of retired military men lined up on bar stools, chatting about the good ole days, wearing jackets that read Old Frogs and SEALs. Across the room near the bar, several wives gathered together, laughing and pointing as they discussed the auction items and sipped delightedly on mixed drinks. Jack smiled as their conversation turned a bit more racy. He was glad he could read lips.
    An alarm beeped on his wristwatch. Time to take an antianxiety pill. Anger lanced through him. What was he, some hundred-year-old man who had to take his medication? He would not die without that little pill, and there was no way he’d let himself get in a situation where he was addicted to something… anything or anyone. Unwilling to spend even another minute contemplating it, he stepped toward the closest trash can and dropped the bottle inside. Relief swept through him. He knew he could do better than those “hunt and peck” doctors who were actually using the process of elimination to guess at courses of action. Besides that, he didn’t want to pollute his body with crap.
    Beer was his only vice. Basically, it was his carbohydrates—liquid bread.
    Ah! He swallowed down the rest of the cold brew.
    Another body pushed into his, and suddenly the crowd, the noise, and the smell—everything—was too much. It was overwhelming. And that was his cue to go.
    He placed the empty bottle on a passing waitress’s tray and headed for the door. He’d done his duty. He came, he drank, and now he was leaving.
    The door he had selected as his escape hatch opened before him and a gorgeous brunette stepped through, wearing spikes and a black dress with a very short skirt. Her skin glowed as if she’d just come in from the sun, and she was slightly out of breath. A large basket filled with goodies that she balanced on one hand wavered and then tipped.
    In one motion, he was by her side, catching the basket before it reached the floor.
    “My hero,” she said. “Is this a side job or do you do it professionally?”
    A grin split across his face; he knew it must look pretty goofy, but he couldn’t stop it. “Which one do I win brownie points for?”
    “Depends…” She smiled, and her eyes sparkled like diamonds in a darkened cave. “I’m Laurie Smith.” She held out