Page 43 of The Playboy SEAL
My mother presses a glass of lemonade into my hand. “Thanks for letting us meet her. I do hope you’ll care for that one. She’s a keeper,” Mom says.
“As opposed to what?” I ask, smirking. I find the word “tosser” on the tip of my tongue but chuckle instead.
She clucks her tongue. “You know the type. The ones who roll around with any manly beast.”
My chuckle turns into full-blown laughter that draws Teala’s gaze.
My mother has no clue. Or Teala is that good at acting. She runs her fingers over her lips as she continues speaking into her phone. I can’t hear her words, but I can read her eyes. She likes my laugh as much as she likes my appearance, and we’ll need to do something about that soon.
Gently I place my hands on Mom’s shoulders. “As funny as that was, I don’t think you should talk about manly beasts and rolling with them.” I glance at my dad.
He smiles and shrugs. Must be genetics.
“Oh, stop it. I’m old. Not dead!” she fires back. The light is back in her eyes now that we’ve had the television off for a while. “Promise me you won’t mess it up. A woman is the only commodity you can’t work for.”
Ah, she knows my personality well. My hands fall from her shoulders, and I shove them in my pockets. I haven’t even slept with Teala yet.I’m working, all right. I’m working fucking hard.
Mom hugs me. “Stop and smell the roses every once in a while. It won’t kill you.”
It fucking just may. Teala appears behind me and changes the subject to yoga. Dad pretends to be interested, but I know he’s envisioning lewd poses. It’s a guy thing. My phone vibrates in my pocket again, but I don’t dare take it out with everyone around. Teala hearsit and makes a show of staring at my pocket and then flicking her gaze back to my face. I pretend I have no clue what she’s insinuating.
Teala has a Tupperware full of cakes, muffins, and brownies sitting on her lap on the drive back to her apartment. She stays pretty silent as I drive, texting every so often. She answers when I ask her if she had a good time, and it’s not an open hostility, but I feel it simmering just below the surface.
I park in the parking garage, in the same spot as before, and trail behind as she makes her way to the elevator. I’m basically staring a hole in the side of her head by the time we make it to her front door. Her effort at ignoring me completely is commendable. I tell her so.
“I’m not ignoring you, Macs,” she says, unlocking her door and pushing it open.
I walk in behind her and close it. I clear my throat. In favor of ignoring me some more, she takes the confections into her kitchen and starts piling them on a serving tray.
“I was thinking about leaving these at the studio, but then again most of my clients don’t really frequent the sugar,” she explains to thin air.
Making my way to the sofa, I rumple the throw blanket casually tossed across the arm. Her head turns quicker than the exorcist, her gaze like daggers, aimed at the blanket.
Smirking, I say, “I leave tomorrow, Teala. Can we spend some time together? Alone?” Patting the seat next to me, I cock my head to the side in question.
The plate lands on the counter with a loud clank asshe puts it on the serving bar. I wince. Irritation unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with courses my veins.
“If you’re mad about something, say it. Whatever this is,” I say, waving my hand in her direction, “isn’t getting your point across.”
Her mouth puckers in a scowl. “I’m not in the habit of telling anyone anything,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest.
I stand. “And I’m not in the habit of prodding, so I’ll go ahead and head out?” I point at the door with a dramatic flair.
“You were on your phone all day, Macs,” she says. Breathlessly, she sighs and hangs her head, like I’ve punched her. That’s how much it takes for her to admit this to me. “We talked about trying to start something real, and then I see you on your phone all day. It makes me think it’s all bullshit and you’re toying with me. I hate feeling self-conscious. I hate feeling like I have to ask you. I hate that you were on the phone and that I gave a shit. Do you see what’s happening already? This is awful. Who am I?” She pulls her hands through her hair and avoids looking anywhere near me.
She picks up a brownie and walks to the window. I watch as she looks at the chocolate like it may bite her and then shoves a bite into her mouth.
“A couple things. If this is jealousy, then this isn’t going to work. Jealousy breeds mistrust, and if we don’t have trust between us, we have nothing. I’m gone constantly, Teala. You have to trust me. I was texting with my friends, or rather they were texting and I was watching the group message unravel into completedepravity. I’m not toying with you.” I stand next to her, nudging her shoulder with my side.
She swallows her mouthful. “Exhibit A. This is madness, and I’ve concocted it out of thin air. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m not a jealous person. I swear it,” she says, groaning.
She’s not, but our chemistry is changing both of us. I pull her tightly to my chest and lean down to kiss her. She’s still cocoa sweet. I moan into her mouth when she runs her hands up my arms and clutches onto my biceps, her grip firm and cool. Her tongue lashes out to meet mine as her body goes limp in my arms. I pull away and can still taste her on my lips. I lick them. “I’d say I won’t be jealous, but what’s mine is mine,” I admit.
Teala grins—this unabashed show of undeniable happiness. “You have no idea what that means to me. I’ve always wanted to be cavemanned.”
I shake my head, my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’ll drag you by your hair and club you into submission if that’s your thing.”
She laughs, leaning back to get a better view of my face. “If anyone else heard you joke like, that you’d die by hot pokers.”
