Page 18 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
Ark paddles alongside me. I can pull him up and onto the board if I need to, and he knows that.
Together, we’re going to conquer this ocean.
The water is cold, and one of my personal problems disappears almost immediately in response to a chilly dunking. Too bad, it doesn’t straighten out my head at the same time.
Lee seems like a mature woman. And goodness knows, she is making it extremely plain what she wants. But does that make it right?
It is just as clear that she is having some sort of personal crisis. After all, it isn’t usual or rational to berate the ocean for not pulling one under. And only a first name, no identification . . . something is clearly not right. Besides, she is so trusting! Have I abused that trust? True, I’d kept my penis in my pants, but my hands had certainly been in hers!
The guys in my unit would hardly know me. I had been the guy who never visited the local entertainers, never fraternized with on-base personnel — female or male, and usually spent my off time reading a book and drinking cokes. They’d called me the monk, and one guy even went so far as to ask if I planned to enter a religious order.
I had gently explained that I was married, had a wife and kid back home, and didn’t plan to bring any sort of unwelcome guest back with me. All that self-restraint certainly had gone out the window today!
What the heck is with me? Is it because I’m not married any longer? Or because Lee is just so darned cute and so eager?
She has a lush body, well-rounded at breast and hip, with just enough fat to smooth her solid layer of muscle. Maybe her promise to do a triple back whatever had been real!
I heave myself up on my board, attach the ankle tether, and haul Ark onto it as well. He shakes himself, spraying water everywhere and nearly swamping the board. But we get ourselves straightened out.
Ark balances himself at the forward end, his nose into the wind while I kneel behind him. When he is settled, I unship the main paddle and turn us toward the reef at the mouth of the bay.
As always, the ocean works its magic on me. It is almost as if the sea breeze blows the nonsense out of my head. I’m not married now. I’m a widower. I have mourned for Izzy, regretting that I wasn’t there for her. But I no longer have a wife.
Not that my marriage to Izzy was all that great to begin with. It definitely wasn’t the type of marriage that I envisioned for myself as a child, that’s for sure.
Lee is sweet, pretty, and willing. And it has been a long time. Kudos to me for only using my hands. God knows I want to do more. But I don’t know what kind of birth control she might be using, even if she has said she has an implant. Or where she’d been before meeting me, for that matter.
I might no longer be a husband, but I am still a father. Julia is my first responsibility, so catching something incurable was out of the question.
The other thing is that starting a life with anyone is a responsibility, not something to shuck off lightly. Or enter into lightly. I owe it to Lee and to my daughter to behave somewhere in the neighborhood of being a responsible adult.
From her behavior, there is a chance that Lee might want more. One thing I could easily do was pick up a package of condoms. That should cover the contagion issue and the getting Lee pregnant issue. Easy to sort out.
As for her age…well, I could ask her. Izzy used to tell me that I could save a lot of trouble if I would just use my words instead of guessing what people thought. So, I will ask her.
With my head somewhat reorganized, I catch the tide just as it is turning and starting to flow in. It is my favorite current. When we near shore, Ark launches himself off the board, nearly capsizing me. But I am used to him and quickly compensate.
Just as I am slogging my way up the last few feet toward dry land, a familiar voice said, “Austin? Is that you?”
I squint in the midday sun. A lean, dark-haired man is shading his eyes with his hand, and squinting back at me. “Richard?” I ask.
“Austin! Yes, it’s me, you old son of a gun! What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Swimming and paddleboarding,” I reply. “What are you doing here?”
“Brought my wife and son for an hour or two at the beach,” Richard replies.
“And his wife is about ready to go home before she turns into a lobster,” says the woman, squatting beside a chubby toddler. The youngster is diligently using a spade to fling sand in all directions. “Who is this handsome gentleman, Richard?”
Richard smiles tenderly at the woman. “Kandis, this is Austin Moore. We used to be suitemates back in college. Austin, this is my wife, Kandis Lane. She used to be Kandis Quinn.”
“Quinn,” I say. “Any relation to Quinn Vineyard?”
“My grandparents,” the woman says. “They are semi-retired. We run most of the business operations these days.”
“That is some fine wine,” I say admiringly. “I’m amazed you could tear yourself away to visit this little beach. Not many people know it is here.”
“I can see that,” Richard says. “There would be more people on the sand if they did. Say, by any chance. . .”
