Page 15 of Summer with a Navy SEAL

Crystal’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Trust me, it’s worth every penny. Brogan won’t know what hit him.”

The dress is a masterpiece of haute couture. Deep crimson silk hugs my curves, the fabric so fine it feels like water against my skin. The sweetheart neckline shows just enough cleavage to be tantalizing without crossing into scandalous territory. A daring slit up the left side reveals a glimpse of leg with every step. The back dips low, leaving most of my spine exposed.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing something this… this…” I struggle to find the right word.

“Sexy? Gorgeous? Absolutely fucking stunning?” Crystal supplies, wiggling her eyebrows.

I roll my eyes but I can’t suppress my smile. I feel like a princess although I wish my fairy godmother supplied the credit card. “All of the above, I guess.”

Crystal starts fussing with my hair, artfully arranging it over one shoulder. “You know, speaking of the Hollister boys, Preston was in the shop the other day.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Buying another one of his weird gifts?”

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yep. This time, it was a vintage typewriter. Said it was for his dad’s study or something.”

I shake my head, remembering Crystal’s story about Preston’s penchant for the odd trinkets she sells at her shop. “That man and his eclectic taste. You could never even tell looking at him he’s so formal.”

Crystal’s quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, as much as I’ve wanted to hate him for how he treated you back then… I don’t know. There’s something about him. Like he’s trying to make up for something.”

I turn to face her, surprised. “Crystal Francia, do I detect a soft spot for Preston Hollister?”

She scoffs, but I don’t miss the faint blush on her cheeks. “Oh, please. I’m just saying, people can change. Look at you and Brogan, after all. I thought you hated him and all this time…”

Her words hit me harder than I expect, reminding me of the complicated situation I’m in with Brogan. But before I can dwell on it, Crystal claps her hands.

“Alright, enough chit-chat. Let’s get you into these killer heels. You’ve got a yacht party to conquer, and a certain Hollister brother to knock dead.”

Two hours later, I pace the living room of the beach house, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor. My stomach is in knots, a mix of excitement and anxiety churning inside me. I’ve never been to an event like this before. Heck, I’ve never even been on a boat, let alone a mega-yacht.

A knock at the door makes me jump. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and open the door.

Brogan stands there, looking like he stepped out of a James Bond movie in his perfectly tailored tux. His blue eyes widen as he takes me in, his gaze traveling slowly from my feet up to my face.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice low and husky. “Willy, you look… incredible.”

A blush creeps up my cheeks. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself, Hollister.”

He grins, offering me his arm. “Shall we, my lady? Our chariot awaits.” I can’t help but laugh as I take his arm.

“Our chariot? Don’t tell me you rented a limo for this little charade.”

“Only the best for my fake girlfriend although there’s no need to rent anything,” he says, grinning. “My family has a fleet, courtesy of my father who loved to collect cars.”

“Ah, yes. His collection.” I’d heard about Brogan’s latefather’s collection, an eclectic mix of luxury cars like a Bentley, a Lamborghini, and an Aston Martin, but he also collected what everyone would describe as ordinary, like a 1973 mint green Volkswagen Thing and a 1974 Gremlin. My father used to tell me stories about how Mr. Hollister held on to them because those were the only types of cars he could afford when he was a bachelor. That an heiress like Lorraine Hollister got into his Gremlin for their first date would forever baffle him.

As we step outside, I see the sleek silver sports car parked in the driveway, the moonlight gleaming off its curves, making it look like something out of a movie.

“Oh, wow,” I gasp, unable to hide my awe.

Brogan grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. “Yep. One of Father’s old favorites. It’s an Aston Martin DB11.”

“I don’t know what a DB11 is but… wow,” I breathe, running my hand along the smooth metal.

Brogan opens the passenger door with a flourish. “Allow me to give you the full experience, Miss Genaro.”

There’s something in the way he looks at me that’s both thrilling and terrifying, prompting a silent reminder that this isn’t real. “You do know we shouldn’t get too carried away. This is all pretend, remember?”

Brogan chuckles but it sounds a bit forced. “Right. Pretend. Got it, chief.”

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