Page 5 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

“You won’t. She’s packing up a bunch of it to send to you.”

Polish delicacies he’d have to share with his team, which would only encourage them to expect more. He really needed to get his own place and stop living in the bachelor barracks. While it was cheap and convenient, it also offered next to zero privacy.

He just couldn’t swallow paying Coronado prices for rent. And he didn’t have enough saved for a down payment to buy.

The sound of a cell phone ringing interrupted his thoughts.

“That’s my cell,” Irina announced. “I gotta go, bro. My boyfriend’s calling. I’ll tell Mom and Dad you called.”

“Wait! You have a boy—”

She hung up before he even finished the question or could tell her to just put one of his parents on the line, which is why he’d called to begin with.

With a sigh he disconnected and decided to try again later. Maybe during prime time on the east coast when he knew his mother would be seated in her chair in front of the television with the phone next to her as she watched whatever show was airing.

Until then, McP’s awaited.

The bar was close enough to the base, it made McP’s Pub the place to go for both SEALs and retirees who lived locally. The beer was cold, the food was good and the outdoor seating was a plus, especially on a perfect California day like today.

Stefan walked past the inside tables and headed to the patio, knowing the team was seated out there. He’d heard them while he’d been parking his Jeep. They weren’t the quietest bunch when they got together and alcohol was involved.

“Here he is,” Danny announced.

“What’s the sitrep with our care package?” Mason asked.

He rolled his eyes and hated he had good news for his greedy teammates. “You’re in luck. She’s cooking. A package is coming.”

A cheer rose among the five men, drawing a few glances from those seated at the other tables on the patio.

Stefan shook his head and couldn’t help his smile. It didn’t take much to make them happy. He should just let them have the win and not begrudge them the joy of his mother’s cooking. It wasn’t like they got a lot of home cooking while living on base.

Ty held up a beer. “A toast to our buddy Stefan Pierogi Kowalski.”

“To Pierogi.” Wyatt nodded.

“To Pierogi.” The rest of the team raised their glasses and echoed the toast.

Stefan’s eyes widened. He’d made it through boot camp and BUD/S and over a decade in the teams without picking up a nickname. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let his team give him one now—especially if that name was going to be Pierogi.

He needed to nip this shit in the bud right now. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That is not gonna become a thing.”

“What isn’t?” Eric asked.

“That name.”

“Why not? It’s perfect,Pierogi.” Ty grinned.

“No.” His Brooklyn attitude coming out, Stefan leveled a glare on each and every man in turn. “Anyone,anyone, who calls me that is gonna have to deal with me.”

“That’s a threat, is it?” Ty’s brows rose high at the implied challenge.

“I do remember a certain sparring match that you lost to Ty, Pierogi,” Wyatt reminded. “Are you two up for a rematch?”

He clearly had to change tactics as the dreaded name became more solidified each time someone used it. “Okay, then, how about this? Anyone who calls me that gets nothing out of that care package. Or any future care packages.”

“I think your mother would be interested in knowing you’re being selfish. In fact, I think she’d probably send us our own package once we tell her you’re not sharing,” Eric threatened, his arms crossed over his chest.

They were probably right, and he wouldn’t be surprised if these bastards did contact his mother. His home address was no secret.

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