Page 2 of The Playboy SEAL
Giggles.“On a shingle.”
“I can’t help the things I did before you.”
“Neither can I. That’s where we’re starting, though.”
“It’s not really the beginning. Most stories start at thebeginning.”
“You’re right. It’s sort of the middle. When everything went to hell.”
“Including me.”
Scoff.“Oh, and the rest of the world? You’re so self-referential sometimes.”
“A world I’m trying to save!”
“You say potato, I say po-ta-to.”
“I’m not even going to start that conversation again.”
“Because I’m right. Now get on with it before you put Carina to sleep.”
“Greenleigh.”
“Seriously? Just go, Macs. Talk.”
“Okay. It was a dark and stormy night, and I was about to fuck shit up. I had awesome hair and big, throbbing muscles…”
“Oh, Jesus. It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”
“Only if you let me lick your neck.”
END RECORDING.
CHAPTER ONE
Teala
My father is an asshole—afact that has taken me twenty-five years to accept. It’s easy to turn a blind eye to bad behavior as a child and even as an indifferent teenager. It’s when the adult vision focuses that the haze you’ve believed as truth is exposed as an impostor. Aunt Patti, Aunt Christine, and Aunt Jessica were not fucking aunts. My mother needed him financially and emotionally in some twisted way, so we stayed. I blame her for being weak, for letting me believe their lies for so long. I forgave her easily once I realized how warped her sense of self actually was. I’ll never forgive him. He is not a good person.
I don’t blame my lack of long-term relationships on my father, though. That’s on me. I have a very distinct type of man I like to toy with, experiment with. The bad ones. They are usually good-looking and know it. They’ll have some personality flaw that keeps them from committing, which typically is vanity with a side of boredom. They don’t spend the night, and if they do,they’re gone before the sun rises. In other words, the kind of men who don’t know what the wordtogethermeans.
When you think about it, together is such a strange, complicated word. Everyone is familiar with what it implies in any language around the world. If you peel back the surface, you find the true meaning. Together is only several degrees away from separation. Things and people wedge themselves between together. They ache to tear apart, steal, and covet that which doesn’t belong to them, that which seems better than what they themselves have. Together doesn’t last forever.
Can a human ever truly belong to another human? Can together stay that way long-term? In my experience it’s always temporary, a fleeting feeling of lust and happiness. Kisses start to taste differently once the newness has worn out its welcome. There is less desire, more comfortable indifference. I’m not unhappy being single. I’m merely indifferent, existing in the spaces in between. That’s where I’m at now. In between experiments, searching for the next man to warm my bed and show me exactly why together doesn’t work.
I blow out a long breath, exhaling things like non-permanence and bad fathers. “Take it down to lotus,” I say, my voice low. “Set your intention for class and for life.” My yoga studio is a ripe one hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit. The participants in my class are fresh. We’re only seven minutes into practice.
Using my best soft voice, something I’m always told doesn’t come naturally, I guide them through several poses and end in downward dog for a long stretch. I knowJudd is staring at my ass right now. He always does. It’s partially my fault because I went out on a date with him, but I figured once I told him it wasn’t going to work out, he’d take classes with another of my yoga instructors. His persistence is noble but goes unrewarded. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s handsome and intelligent, and I know we’d at least have yoga in common. It’s probably the red flag. Having things in common with someone generally leads to more than I want.
I flip from the pose and sit, facing the room lined with colorful mats. Judd looks away quickly. I quirk a brow and speak the next move in a monotone voice, reminding them to focus on their intentions and to let their egos go.
I should take my own advice. Judd should take my advice. I pull a face when he lifts his gaze and then cowers back to his position. My watch vibrates on my wrist. A text from my friend Carina.I got you a date,it reads.
“Take another Vinyasa flow if you feel the desire or stay in downward dog.” I stand and approach the stereo system in the back. “Inversions are next. Grab some water. Stay hydrated.”
I try tapping the screen of my watch a couple times with sweaty hands and end up having to towel off. I send her back a quick thumbs-up. Moose is the guy’s name. He’s the best friend of the man Carina is seeing. He’s tall, bulky, and has dimples and eyes that would make you want to smack your mama. He’s also a Navy SEAL, which automatically puts him in the bad boy category regardless of his dating tendencies. I bite my bottom lip to halt a smile and return to the front of the room.
Judd moves his mat behind another woman. I hide my disgust with a sigh and lead the class in handstands. My body is lithe and tight from a lifestyle devoted to clean eating and exercise. There isn’t another option when your business and livelihood is a yoga studio. I built it from the ground up, and three years in, my classes always sell out. When I’m not here, I’m working out at boot camp classes or home sleeping. It’s not as if I have much free time to spare when you break my life apart piece by piece.
