Page 65 of Made for You
To make sure I could focus on her completely tonight, I got to work. There was only so much I could do for Tristan, and right now, Kiley was hanging in, managing the nonsense with her dad. My job at this point? Stay focused so I could leave on time and have no interruptions when I finally had Nikki to myself.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Nikki
Bruce’s smile threatened to annihilate me.
Well, his smile and the whole thing he had going on—sleeves rolled to show his forearms, apron covering his chest and tied around his neck and slim waist. Andno, I had not forgotten the fact that I knew exactly what he looked like under all of that.Whew.
He was making me chicken piccata. He’d been nudging hand-breaded chicken breasts around a cast-iron pan with a wooden spoon like some kind of hot ex-Army-chef, and the tattoos peeking out of his undershirt just under his collarbone, paired with how his hair looked a little messy after a long day… Honestly, I’d been gripping the countertop to keep from launching myself at him.
“So the Navy SEALs and EMU work together, but you don’t like each other?” I asked, trying to focus on our conversation and broaden my understanding of both his past service and the US’s current special operations assets and not admire all of Bruce’s many, many… well, assets.
“I wouldn’t say we don’t like each other. It’s just an interesting contention at times. But generally, we’ve got similar mission sets and we take turns. Also, not all SEALS are black special ops or SOF. Only SEAL Team Six and a few others. The bulk of Navy SEALs are akin to our special forces.”
“And Special Forces are different from Special Operations.”
He turned and winked. “Correct.”
I squinted at him as he started plating our chicken over small beds of golden couscous. “But there’s competition between you?”
He shrugged a shoulder, and his head rocked side to side in akind ofgesture. “Not really competition. I guess it’s really stereotypes. The biggest one about our Navy friends is that they’re hotshots. This isn’t universally true, but how often do you read about EMU in the paper? Basically never. How often do you read about the SEALs extracting someone or whatever else? They’re more likely to be out there, and we’re just… not.”
“Hmm. But why? It’s not like people have never heard of EMU.” I had. To be fair, though, I hadn’t known exactly what it was.
“A lot more people had heard of it when it was Delta Force. They like to change the name and get fancy, but ultimately, anonymity helps with the job. And I should also add that it’s not just news stories. The SEALs have an almost preprogrammed need to strip off their shirts at all times.”
I tried to laugh but had to swallow the sip of wine I’d taken before I could let the sound escape. With a chuckle, I took the plate he offered me and followed him to the table. “Okay, please explain that.”
He grinned, all free and gorgeous, and as always, it made my stomach flip.
“It sounds like a punchline, but it’s just true. We’ll do joint training exercises and it’ll be fifty degrees outside but the sun’s out, so those guys are stripping down and hopping on dirt bikes and running around like they’re in a scene fromTop Gun. It’s honestly kind of wild the first time you witness it. Then it becomes a little concerning because you’re thinking maybe all that time they spend in the ocean means they can’t actually feel that fifty degrees isn’t warm.”
I was laughinghardnow. Something about him tipping my image of all these tough SEALs on its head hit me in just the right way and I couldn’t stop. Once I calmed down enough to take a full breath, I started cutting my chicken.
“Says the man who seems to lose his shirt anytime he walks into his backyard.”
He coughed, choking on his own drink, then shook his head at me. “Touché, but also, says the woman who doesn’t seem to mind the view.”
My cheeks heated, but I shrugged and raised my wineglass. “To your perpetual backyard shirtlessness.”
His breathy chuckle gave me a thrill as he touched his drink to mine. “May you ever be able to enjoy it.”
We drank, gazes locked, and every inch of space in my chest was filled with the butterfly sensation I’d only ever experienced with him. I’d go mad from this feeling if I had to stay at arm’s length from him.
As though he read my mind, and faster than I would’ve imagined, Bruce stood from his seat and bent, cupped my jaw, and kissed me. Just as quickly, he sat back down and picked up his utensils.
I blinked at him, the butterflies nowhere near abating now.
“Should I apologize? Sometimes, I can’t help but kiss you, but if it bothers you, please tell me. I won’t—”
“No. No. I just…” I cleared my throat, nervous energy washing away those flutters in an instant. “I’ve just never felt like this before.” Nor would I ever have admitted such a thing.
In truth, he was potent enough, but the combination ofhim, my feelings for him, and the knowledge that all of this was a path I’d never walked had me a little anxious.
Attention on me, he justlookedfor a moment, his intense gaze so focused, it made me feel like I was the one shirtless and bared to him, before his grin spread slowly. “Good. Me neither.”
Backflips. Cartwheels. Some weirdly victorious part of me standing up and cheering like a sports ball fan while that tender side worked with everything she had not to step back.
