Page 3 of Fake Dating the SEAL
Taking out his wallet, he left a generous tip on the bar, and grinned to himself, thinking about the massive plate of Maile’s shortbread cookies waiting for him in his room. The one thing that hadn’t changed about coming to Kona was the warm, loving embrace of the Everrett family.
Tired from the long flight, and the single bourbon he’d drunk, he craved a walk on the beach followed by a good and long night’s sleep, but first a quick detour to the men’s room.
As he got closer to the restrooms, an odd noise drew his attention. It wasn’t a scream or a cry for help, nothing that would set off an alarm in his gut, but it was…off. Hand on the men’s room door, he waited another minute. A soft “oomph” followed by a low “humph,” like someone struggling could easily be heard. Cocking his head, he debated if the noises could be someone in need, or someone trying to join the mile high club without an airplane. After a long few beats of silence, he pushed on the men’s room door when a loud, startled shriek followed by a definitivethudhad him freezing in place again.
That was a noise he recognized. It was the sound of a human body hitting the ground hard, and a feminine squeal that could mean anything from playful to terrified. He had no business going into the women’s restroom, and his civilian brain was already telling him to turn back and mind his own business, but his instincts—the part of him that was still a SEAL, still a protector—overruled the logical part of his brain. Something was wrong.
Shoving the door open he took one hurried step, not surprised to find a huddle of human flesh on the floor. A flash of red hair splayed across the floor caught his eye first, followed by a blur of sparkles, and then arms and legs moving with groans and grunts. A cat fight or… “Excuse me.”
The pair of tanned arms pressed from underneath against the sparkly dress stilled. A face covered by strands of long blonde hair that seemed to belong to the woman in the sparkling dress turned part way to see him. “Don’t just stand there. Help get her off of me.”
Now the picture was beginning to make more sense to him. “Sorry,” he rushed the few steps and carefully grasped the blonde woman under her arms. “I’m going to lift her. Just lie still.”
“Oh, hello there, handsome,” the blonde slurred, her head lolling toward Kenny as he lifted her. “Are you my knight in shining armor?”
“Something like that.” Kenny got her upright, though she immediately started to sway. “Easy there.”
The blonde unexpectedly flung herself forward, and the next thing he knew, she stood on spaghetti legs with her arms wrapped around him. Inches away from his face, the smell of rum, and tequila, and who knew what else, almost overwhelmed him. Struggling to focus, the woman smiled wildly. “Hi.”
“Careful.” The woman from the floor now stood, glancing down as she straightened her uniform and brushed off any signs of struggle. “That one’s like Velcro.”
At least the redhead, that he now realized was a hotel employee, had a sense of humor. Only problem, now the blonde was indeed stuck to him like Velcro.
“Allie. What the hell is taking so long?” a deep male voice, probably the lone guy at the table for two, called from the lounge area.
“Hiiiii, Bradley.” The blonde’s breath could knock a man over. Her weight shifted and Kenny had to wrap an arm around her to stop her from falling on the floor—again.
The door squeaked and a man’s head peered through the slight opening, his gaze landing on the three people before widening like a drunk owl. “What the hell.”
Before Kenny could say a word, the man lunged forward, arm swinging and any other man would have been cold cocked. Despite the dead weight in his arms, Kenny managed to shift left, dip his torso and avoid the blow without dropping the woman.
The man wasn’t so lucky. Momentum had him stumbling forward before finding his balance.
“Hey,” the redhead yelled, turned so her back was to Kenny, her arm straight out pointing to the door, she stood between him and the drunk. “No men in the ladies room.”
So the woman had a sense of humorandguts. She was actually trying to protect him. When was the last time someone—other than his teammates—tried to protecthim?
“I suggest instead of starting trouble, the two of you get out of here and go home.”
“We live in Jersey.” The woman hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth. “It’s our,” hiccup, “honeymoon.”
“Fine.” The redhead hadn’t moved an inch. “Congratulations. Now leave.”
“Come on, baby.” The man moved toward his wife, slipping his arm around her waist until she leaned against him instead of Kenny.
“You may want to take off the other shoe.” The redhead pointed at the heel still on the woman’s foot and the other one still hooked on her finger.
The husband nodded, holding onto his wife as she fumbled with sliding the shoe off, and then the two wobbled out the door together.
Watching their backs until the bathroom door eased shut behind them, Kenny just shook his head. “Wonder what the odds are that they’ll make it all the way to their room.” He spun around to face the feisty redhead. “Sara?”
Chapter Three
“Kenny?” Sara blinked at him. Kenny Yates. Billy’s friend, one of many SEALs who’d come to the island for visits through the years. They’d shared a few polite greetings from time to time, but for the most part he was always with the other men—friends, SEALs, the EOD guys—an entourage of muscle, quiet confidence, and lots and lots of testosterone.
“The one and only.” He smiled. “Are things always this… entertaining around here?”
“Hardly,” she practically snorted. “Usually the most excitement I have is when someone barfs in the toilet and misses. Then I get to clean up the mess. I don’t usually get to pick up the drunk. Not that I did a very good job with her tonight.”
