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  “It’s not, and you’re not meeting a boy at the movies.”

  “If dad were still here, he’d let me go.”

  “If your dad were still alive, he’d shoot the first boy who showed up at our house for a date with you at your age.”

  The girl huffed. “Everybody will be there—everybody but me.” Her voice took on a whiny tone. “I’m not a baby, Mom.”

  “You’re twelve, Katie.”

  “I’m almost thirteen. I’m ready to start dating.”

  The mother chuckled. “Not hardly. Besides, are you telling me that Ashley, Hanna, Dawn, and Brittney are going?”

  “I think so.”

  “Hmm. Tell you what. I’ll call their moms and talk to them about it.”

  “No,” the girl said quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because everyone will know that you think I’m still a baby.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, how about you invite the girls over for a sleepover next Friday instead?”

  “Can the boys come over?”

  “Nice try, but no.”

  The girl blew out a frustrated breath and slammed her back against their shared booth wall. “You don’t understand anything.”

  His food was delivered, and he missed some of the conversation, not that he minded. He wasn’t usually an eavesdropper, but it’d been entertaining and so far out of his realm of reality to be surreal.

  He dug into his food, inhaling every bite. Mentally, he made a to-do list for the rest of day and found that it was mostly empty. Laundry and dishes were the extent of what he had to do. Maintenance kept the outside of his condo up and his cleaning service came by monthly, and they’d been there this week, so his day was fairly open.

  He smiled as a huge bite of pancake hit his mouth and a thought hit his brain. He hadn’t been surfing in like forever. With the waves he’d observed while running, surfing was just the thing he needed after last night’s workout.

  Damn it. He had to run by the base and sign some reports he’d sworn he’d complete on Friday. The task had totally slipped his mind as he’d been trying to get away for the weekend.

  On the other hand, he could take his surfboard with him to the base, do the required paperwork and then catch some waves on Coronado beach.

  Now that he had a plan, he finished up quickly and slid from his booth at the same time the mother-daughter combo stood. He glanced toward the mean mother and his breath whooshed out.

  The woman was tall, not as tall as his six-feet-three-inches, but not a lot under six-feet was his guess. Her body was trim and muscular, as though she worked out, not as though she didn’t eat.

  Her jade-green eyes met his gaze. She smiled, and then dismissed him with a jerky nod, her ponytail shaking with her head movement. Then she moved her gaze to her daughter. “Come on, Katie. I’ve got to get you to Grams and Pop’s so I can go to work.”

  “I’m old enough to stay by myself,” the girl protested as she followed her mother.

  Instead of arguing, the woman said, “I’ll pick you up at four, so be ready to go. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t follow her to the register and outside like he would have loved to. Generally, he didn’t have to follow women out of restaurants. They followed him.

  Interestingly, the way she carried herself, the way she’d looked at, and then dismissed him, made him more curious about her, not less. If she hadn’t had a child with her, he might have followed her out, tried to get her name and phone number, tried to…Hell, he didn’t know what he’d have tried.

  Stepping up to the register, he handed his money to Marcy. “You know who that woman was?”

  “The one who just left?”

  He nodded.

  “She’s been here maybe once or twice. Not a regular. Why? Do you know her?”

  He shook his head. “Just wondered.”

  She handed him his change. “See you next Sunday?”

  “We’ll see.”

  With a laugh, she said, “That’s what you always say.”

  As he jogged home, he couldn’t help but see that the ocean waves were off the hook and calling his name. Serious surf time climbed to the number one spot on his list eliminating everything else.

  After grabbing his gear, he headed to the base to get the paperwork finished and then down to Coronado Beach to surf there while he could. Come Memorial Day, there would be no surfing allowed at the main beach until after Labor Day.

  Within an hour, he was stomach down on his board and paddling through waves. He was stoked.

  Far enough from the shore to catch a ride, he sat upright and waited for the perfect wave. The first wave wasn’t just perfect, it was a bomb, and he lived for those. Backpaddling like crazy, he caught that bad boy and was up, shredding it for all he was worth, thanking his lucky stars this wasn’t a party wave. All to himself. A dream come true.

  As he cross-stepped, and carved his way through this massive wave, every real-world problem evaporated. He was in the moment and loving it.

  Down a short way, another guy—a total grommet—was trying to surf. His technique—if one could call it a technique—was choppy, a little spastic, and hesitant. More than once, the grom wiped out more than he rode. A newbie who could use some serious lessons before he hurt himself or another surfer.

  Benjamin thought momentarily about offering advice but decided against it. Some guys didn’t take suggestions well and, frankly, he wasn’t out here to teach surfing. He was here to do surfing.

  After a few incredible rides, he carried his board onto the sand, and for the first time that day, looked around. To his surprise, the sandy strip had filled with beachgoers, not that he should be surprised. A beautiful Sunday with sun and waves…Who could ask for more?

  Behind him, the Coronado Beach lifeguard ATV made its way slowly along the top of the beach, the rider watching the ocean and sand activities. Benjamin had gotten to the beach a little after the lifeguards had come on duty, but he rarely paid them much attention. He figured he was one fewer person they had to watch.

  At that thought, he looked toward the ocean to see how the newbie was doing. Looked like he was getting the paddling into the wave down. Now, to stand. He got upright momentarily, then Benjamin rolled his eyes as the guy flipped off his board, his ass handed to him by a beginner wave.

  Benjamin watched for the guy’s head to reappear. It didn’t. He dropped his board to the sand as he began making his way back to the ocean, his gaze scanning the surf. Probably nothing. Lifeguards surely had their collective eyes on this guy, too. Anyone could see he didn’t have the board down yet.

  Then, the surfer’s head broke the surface. His arms floundered in the air. His head disappeared.

  “Man down,” Benjamin shouted as he took off in a run, launching himself into the waves and moving toward the last place he’d seen the guy. His powerful swimming strokes moved him through rough water that would have slowed most men, but he wasn’t most men. He was a Navy SEAL.

  The guy was nowhere to be seen when Benjamin arrived at his targeted destination. He whipped his head and body around looking for the guy. Nothing.

  With a deep breath, Benjamin dove below the waves and began his search. The sand on the bottom churned in the relentless waves. He swam down and around. He’d been down for a good two minutes, and Benjamin knew he only had a short time before he would have to go back to the top for a breath. As he prepared to surface, he caught a glimpse of something red. The guy’s swim trunks.

  His lungs burned and demanded fresh oxygen. But if he went up for a breath, the guy might not be here when he got back. Gritting his teeth, he reached out and snagged the elastic waistband of the trucks and began his climb to the surface. He’d expected to find lifeguards waiting on top to assist, but he only saw a couple further down the beach talking to some teens.

  Keeping the guy’s head out of the water, he pulled him through the waves and onto the beach. By now, Benjamin’s call and activi
ty had alerted the beach lifeguards. Three lifeguards splashed into the water and surrounded Benjamin and the victim, hauling the surfer to the beach and positioning him on his back in the sand.

  A female with a familiar-looking, shiny, brown ponytail tilted the victim’s head. “Not breathing,” she said. “Starting CPR.”

  “Calling for ambulance, Holly,” one of the male lifeguards said.

  Benjamin dropped to his knees. “What can I do to help?”

  A set of deep green eyes flashed at him. “Moving out of the way would help.” She began compressions while shouting, “Tom. Get over here and do the breaths.”

  Benjamin remained on his knees. He was SEAL. He was prepared to handle these types of emergencies.

  “Move it, sailor,” the female lifeguard said. “You’re in the way.”

  He stood and a male lifeguard took his place. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman. She ran the life-saving code like he ran his ops…total control.

  The victim coughed and she rolled him to the side. He vomited ocean water all over the male lifeguard. Maybe stepping back had been a good idea.

  “Ben,” a female voice called. “Ben. Over here.”

  He looked toward two bikini-clad women who were waving him over. One of them, Georgina, was a woman he’d dated four or five times. The other was a stranger.

  “Ben,” Georgina called again.

  He took one last look at the guy—who was now breathing on his own—and the green-eyed beauty who paid him no attention, then he lifted a hand toward the women. “On my way.”

  When he was close, Georgina wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you, Ben.”

  He rested his hands at her tiny waist. “You, too. How are you?”

  “Sooo good,” she said. “This is Margo.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, nodding toward the blonde

  “I am so glad I ran into you,” Georgina said. “I’ve been thinking about our last conversation and I’ve made a decision.”

  “Oh?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Good for you.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about. Of course, most of their dates were spent in her bed, with her not necessarily on her back. She was quite flexible.

  She slipped her arm around his waist. “I’ve decided I want to get married.”

  Benjamin’s back straightened. His breath might have hitched a time or two. There was no way this woman was pregnant, not that she wouldn’t be the first woman to try to get him to the altar with that lie.

  “I see,” were the only words he could get his brain could form. “And this involves me how?”

  She and her friend laughed. “Not married to you,” Georgina said with a thrust of her hip against his. “Not that I wouldn’t have if you’d asked, but…” She sighed. “You were quite clear that you weren’t looking for that.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, he grinned at her. “True. How did I help you come to a marriage decision?”

  “You said you weren’t getting married and that if I wanted to get married, I shouldn’t be dating you. I should be dating guys who wanted the same thing. I thought about that for a long time and I realized I want the husband, the house, the kids, the dog, the whole ball of wax.”

  “Well, good for you knowing what you want. Do you have a groom in mind or will any guy do?”

  She laughed again. “Do you remember that I told you I had broken up with my boyfriend right before we began dating? Well, he couldn’t stand seeing me with you. The jealousy ate him up. So…” She waved a diamond ring in his face. “He begged and I accepted.”

  “I’m thrilled for you…and him, of course. He’s getting a special woman.”

  She turned toward him and looked up into his face. “Are you sure there’s no way you’d consider marriage? I mean—”

  “Nope,” he cut her off. “No chance I’ll change my mind.”

  She sighed. “I had to know.” Georgina looked at her friend. “We’d better get moving.” She looked back at Ben with a sad smile. “We’re meeting the guys for lunch.” Laying her hand on his cheek, she said, “You are something special. I’ll miss you.” With that, she rose to her toes and kissed him.

  He watched her walk away, her heart-shaped ass twisting and shifting in the tiny bikini bottom. Relief zinged through his veins, exactly how he always felt when he came home from a mission—like he’d dodged a sniper’s bullet.

  Chapter Two

  “Hurry up, Katie,” Holly Maxwell called out. “I swear, you inherited the late gene from your father.”

  “I don’t understand why I can’t just stay here tonight.” Her daughter’s whine rolled from her room down the hall

  Save me from adolescent hormones.

  “You can’t stay here because it’ll be late when I get home.”

  If I make it home and don’t have to sleep at Bethany’s house.

  Katie stomped out of her room and down the stairs, throwing her skinny arms up in the air with a disgusted grunt as she passed her mother without saying a word.

  “Besides,” Holly continued as she followed her daughter downstairs to the car, “your cousins will be there, too, and you always have fun with them.”

  “Not Hank and Harvey. They’re little kids.”

  “Well, Hillary will be there. You don’t have to play with the boys.”

  Her daughter shot her a scathing glare. “I don’t play. That’s for babies.”

  “Uh-huh,” Holly said as they climbed into the car. She looked over at the front passenger seat and shook her head. “In the back. You know you can’t ride up front yet.”

  Katie gave another disgusted sighed and opened the passenger door. “Dad would have let me ride up front,” she said as she slipped out of the car. She slammed the door and opened the rear door and climbed in.

  “First, your dad was a cop, so no, he wouldn’t have. And second, you can ride up front in only a few months.” Holly looked at her daughter with a bright smile. “You’ll be thirteen in August. You can move up here then, cool, huh?”

  Her daughter rolled her eyes.

  Holly turned to face forward and started the car. “Buckle up.”

  Katie huffed and snapped her belt. “I know, Mom.”

  After a quick stop for wine, and a forty-five-minute drive with a continually sighing pre-teen, Holly could hardly wait to pop the cork on one of the bottles of white she’d bought.

  As she pulled into the drive—thanks to her brothers for leaving her the cherry parking spot—Hillary waved from the porch.

  “Katie,” she called. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  Without a goodbye, or see ya, or even one of her patented sighs, Katie leapt from the car and raced to meet her cousin.

  “Thank you, Mom,” Holly muttered to herself. “You were so right about having fun with Hillary.”

  Holly hefted the four bottles of wine into her arms and went into the house via the rear entrance that dropped her in the kitchen.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said as she set the bottles on the counter.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Come over here and give me a kiss.” Patricia Long, Holly’s mother, presented her cheek for the required peck. “Now that that’s done, pour me a glass of wine, please.”

  “Red?” Holly asked.

  “As if I drink that horrible sweet Moscato you and the girls love so much.”

  The girls, as her mother called them, were Holly, Diana, her sister-in-and and Bethany, her sister-in-law-to-be. Why these wonderful ladies would marry her brothers was still a mystery to Holly.

  “Oh, you have Moscato?” Diana asked as she entered

  Holly pulled the bottle from the bag. “Right here. And I’ve got one that’s been infused with peaches. That sounds good, right?”

  “Yum. Open it first.”

  “Are we drinking yet?” Bethany asked as she came through the back door with a cake and sack that rattled suspiciously like it contained more wine bottles.

  Diana
lifted her filled wine goblet. “To the first of many tonight.”

  Bethany laughed.

  “Now, you girls don’t get into too much trouble,” Patricia said as she leaned over to check the rolls.

  “We won’t, Mom,” Holly said and winked at the other two women. “What’s for dinner anyway?”

  “Pig knuckles, greens, and unleavened bread.” Patricia shot her daughter a look. “What does it smell like?”

  Holly shrugged and lifted her glass to her mouth. “Pig knuckles and greens mostly.”

  Her mom chuckled. “Go tell your father hi.”

  “Let me guess…. In the living room watching Padres baseball.”

  “It’s May. Where else would he be?”

  Holly carried her full glass of wine with her through the dining room to the living room where her father sat with her brothers: Patrick, Lawrence, and Danny. All of them were yelling at the television.

  “Bad call?” Holly asked.

  “The ump’s either blind or paid off,” her father said, waving a hand in disgust. Then he gave her a smile. “Hi, honey.”

  Holly gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Dad.” She looked at her brothers. “Hey miscreants.”

  “Don’t use big words, Holly. You know Danny doesn’t understand them,” Lawrence answered.

  “I’ll show you who doesn’t know big words,” Danny said as he tried to grab his brother Lawrence in a headlock.

  “Children,” Holly scolded. “You two are terrible role models for Hank and Harvey.” She tilted her head toward her nephews, ages eight and six.

  “No, they’re not,” Harvey said as he tackled his older brother Hank to the floor.

  Their father, Patrick, looked at his wrestling sons and then back at the screen. “Come on, ump,” he yelled at the home plate umpire called the batter out.

  “You two knock it off,” Diana said to her boys, who continued to roll around, each trying to best the other. “Dinner is ready.”

  “You heard your mother,” Patrick said. He lifted Hank off his younger brother. “Dinner’s ready. You can finish this later.”

  “No, they can’t,” Diana said. “Go wash up. Grams has got your dinner in the kitchen. The rest of you come on. Dinner’s on the table.”