Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) Read Online Free Page B

hard my hormones begged.
    “You didn’t warn me you were into kink.” He set the chainsaw on the ground and nudged the tree with his boot. The pine, obliging, fell over onto the ground, kind of like I wanted to do. “And you didn’t answer the question. You got kids?”
    Apparently we were playing twenty questions whether I wanted to or not. Of course, that could mean I got a chance to ask questions. I would have loved to find out what he’d been up to, how life had treated him, and Jacks wasn’t the most communicative person on the face of the planet.
    In fact, he might have been the least communicative person I knew, up to and including dead guys. He’d never once, in all the years since we met, sent me a card. I’d religiously sent him a card on every holiday—both major and Hallmark-induced—and had received nada from him. No card, no postcard, not even a return to sender scrawled on my envelope.
    “No kids,” I told him. Mark and I had talked about kids, but always some day in the glorious future because Mark had wanted us to have a house first. Unfortunately for our future progeny, his affair had preceded any real estate purchase, and just like that our marriage had been over. Jacks nodded, however, like he was ticking something off a mental checklist.
    “And you misplaced Mr. Dick.” He set about trimming the bottom branches off the tree.
    It took me a minute to process what he’d said.
    God. I couldn’t believe he’d gone there. Some things were sacrosanct—or at least off-limits—when it came to conversation with casual acquaintances. Those things included religion, politics, and underlying causes of divorce.
    “Do you have any idea how you sound?” I grabbed the chainsaw, because otherwise my own personal he-man would probably insist on carrying the tree, the saw, and my delicate feminine self.
    He shrugged, roping the tree and proving my point. “I’m just getting things straight.”
    “Then get this straight.” I got up in his face, or as close as I could get, given the tree he was pulling. “I’ve been divorced for six months now, and I’m not looking for a date, a boyfriend, or a replacement husband. I’m off the man wagon until, or if, my ovaries start reminding me my baby-making days are numbered, and even then I’m inclined to vote for the use of a turkey baster. My hormones don’t pick smart.”
    A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Got it.”
    He started off down the trail, lifting the tree like it weighed nothing. I had no idea why I lost all verbal filters when I was near Jacks, but there you had it. He said something and I reacted. On the other hand, it beat dropping my panties, which appeared to be Option B.
    “Santa bringing you a dildo for Christmas to make up for the man embargo?” He dropped his conversational bomb ten minutes into our return hike.
    Jacks didn’t get to speculate on my dildo collection. I hauled off and smacked him in the shoulder. It wasn’t real mature of me, but he just grunted. Unfortunately, it was also just in time for my boss to see me slug our customer. Shoot. I could kiss a raise goodbye. Lucky would read me the riot act. The man was a big believer in upselling and the power of a smile—and short skirts, striped stockings, and unrelenting Christmas cheer.
    Stepping away from Mr. Irritating, I returned the chainsaw and then followed Jacks over to the checkout kiosk. I was supposed to carry his tree there and then upsell him on Christmas wreaths and ornaments. Since Lucky was watching, I obediently trotted out my upsizing spiel. To my shock, Jacks nodded agreeably.
    “I’d love to look at your wreaths,” he said. And then the bastard winked. Apparently, he could make positively anything sound downright filthy.
    It was my own personal problem that I kind of liked it.
    Equally apparent, I was never getting rid of him. I pulled my phone out of my bra and checked the time. Twenty minutes and I was a free woman. The advantage of