Sea of Dreams (The American Heroes Series Book 2) (6 page)

He shook his head. “That was earlier this morning. I don’t need to be back on base until tonight.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You were working this morning? But it’s only ten o’clock.”

He winked at her as Charlotte tugged on his hand. “The Navy isn’t a nine-to-five job, trust me.”

She simply smiled, watching Charlotte tug on him until he looked at her.  As Beck and Charlotte engaged in a conversation about donuts, Blakesley’s gaze lingered on the big blond, inspecting his enormous shoulders and muscular biceps.  The tee shirt did nothing to conceal his amazing physique and she found herself a little warm over the sight.  Tearing her eyes away, she collected the bag and stroller and headed for the stairs.

“Here, let me get that,” Beck took the stroller from her as they headed down the stairs. He had Charlotte in one hand as they moved. “Can I take the bag?”

Blakesley shook her head. “I’ve got it, thanks,” she replied as they reached the lower level, glancing over her shoulder at him. “So… no training today?”

“No,” he replied. “This morning was just mundane stuff.  Believe it or not, part of my job is paperwork, so I did that this morning.”

“Oh,” she said as he walked up beside her.  She alternately watched him and her daughters as they walked up ahead. “Look, you really don’t have to go to Sea World with us.  I’m sure there are a million other things you could be doing.”

He looked at her. “There you go, trying to discourage me again. If you don’t want me to go, just say so. No hard feelings.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Why do you always think I’m trying to discourage you? I just don’t want you to feel pressured or obligated, that’s all. It’s hard to turn down three little girls who are excited that their new friend is going to Sea World with them.”

They had reached the little bakery and the girls ran on ahead to see what was in the bakery case. Beck came to a halt at the entry to the shop, causing Blakesley to pause because he was partially blocking her way.  He faced her.

“It wasn’t the girls who asked me to go, it was you,” he said quietly, without force. “Look, we could just sit in the coffee shop all day as far as I’m concerned. I was just looking forward to spending more time with you and getting to know you a little better, that’s all. I told you last night that if you weren’t really interested in me to just let me know.  Now I’m starting to think that maybe you’re the one feeling obligated to include me in things because I keep showing up on your doorstep like a little lost puppy.”

She gazed up at his handsome face, cocking her head with thought. “You know,” she said slowly, “we’ve run into this type conversation a couple of times and it’s underscoring something pretty obvious.”

“What’s that?”

“That we’re two emotional people who are concerned for each other’s feelings.  I’m afraid of offending you and you’re afraid of imposing on me.”

He smiled weakly, nodding his head after a moment. “You know what’s funny?” he snorted softly. “I always steer clear of women because I’m just not very good with them.  When my marriage was over, I drowned myself in work like there wasn’t anything else in the world.  I can’t even honestly tell you if I’ve been on a date since Sharon divorced me.  I’ve just kept myself bottled up and focused.  But yesterday was the first time in four years that I felt myself come out of that bottle, the moment I laid eyes on you.   Now I can’t think of anything else but you.   If I get emotional, it’s because I haven’t had to deal with feelings of any kind since Sharon left and took Lizzie with her.  Maybe I just don’t know how to control myself around you.  You make me feel everything I’m afraid of.”

Blakesley was stunned. Beck Seavington was so different from the men she had been exposed to in her life, something so fresh and honorable, that he was everything she could have ever hoped for. But the majority of her was terrified to open herself up and accept what he was telling her because she knew, without a doubt, that she could feel the same way about him.

All giddiness aside, she just wasn’t sure she was ready to and it scared the hell out of her. What had started out as sweet flirting and conversation yesterday had moved too quickly to something else. Overwhelmed, she could feel the tears in her eyes. Impulsively, she put her hands on his broad chest and kissed him on the cheek.

“And I’m everything you need to stay away from,” she whispered. “Beck, I think you’re sweet and amazing, and your kindness has touched me like I haven’t been touched in years.  But… but I want you to go back to base and forget you ever met me.”

His face was taut with emotion. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Please. I want you to.”

“Please don’t ask me to.  Don’t do this….”

She touched his face, a gentle touch with a warm, gentle hand, something Beck hadn’t felt in years. It was enough to melt him completely. But she quickly removed the hand and turned away from him.

“It’s been such an honor to meet you,” she murmured, tearing up. “Please go. I’m asking you to.”

“I can’t.”

“I want you to.”

“Please… don’t.”

She just shook her head and turned away from him, going to her girls.  She asked them what they wanted to eat, wiping at the few errant tears that had escaped onto her cheeks.  She couldn’t even bear to look back to see if Beck was still standing there.  The thought of it was ripping her insides out.  But she focused on her girls, those little beacons of salvation that had kept her sane throughout her darkest days, and bought them rolls and donuts for breakfast. 

By the time she was brave enough to turn around, Beck was gone and the collapsible stroller was propped up against the wall where he had been standing.  Fighting back the tears, she went to collect the stroller when a piece of paper fell out and drifted to the floor.  Picking it up, she saw that it was his business card.

When Cadee and Crosby wanted to know why she was crying, she couldn’t tell them.

***

The bar was called Nicky Rottens, which was appropriate considering that’s how Beck felt - rotten.  He sat in the midst of the bustling sports bar on an early Sunday evening, nursing his fourth beer, while life and happiness went on around him.   He didn’t even care.

They were blasting a Padre’s game over his head but he wasn’t watching it.  He was just sitting, staring out the window onto the busy street, feeling truly disappointed for the first time in many years. Normally, he never let a situation involving a woman get this far, avoiding disappointment by cutting things off before they really got started.  It made for a fairly celibate life, but that was safer than the alternative.  Half of him was pissed off that he had let himself feel something for Blakesley, while the majority of him was simply grossly depressed that she had sent him away.

“Hey,” a familiar voice wafted in behind him and Beck turned to see Butch pulling up a bar stool next to him.  Butch grinned when their eyes met. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Why aren’t you picking up your phone?”

Beck sighed heavily and tuned back to his beer. “If I wanted company,  I would have picked up the phone.”

“I know,” Butch flagged down the bartender at the end of the bar. “Here I am anyway.”

The bartender came over and Butch ordered a beer.  Beck downed the rest of his and ordered another.

“How’d you find me?” Beck asked.

“The same way you always seem to find me,” Butch replied. “Your phone has location navigation, remember? You insisted the entire team get it when we got new phones last year.”

Beck turned to look at the man, irritated. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you home with Gina?”

“Because,” Butch met his gaze. “Any time Beck Seavington won’t pick up a call, something’s wrong. What’s wrong that you’re getting yourself drunk on a Sunday night?”

Beck just sat there looking at him.  Then he rolled his eyes and leaned heavily on the bar. “I blew it,” he muttered.  “Oh, God, I totally blew it.”

“Blew what?”

Beck ran a hand over his face, wearily. “Blakesley,” he said. “I blew it.”

The beers arrived and Butch collected his glass. “Blew what?” he repeated, his brow furrowed. “What happened?”

Beck took a big drink of his beer. “I went back last night to the hotel to ask her out to dinner,” he said. “We had a great time. She’s sweet, beautiful, smart, successful… she’s everything. She’s perfect, and she’s way too good for me. But she’s also carrying around some serious emotional baggage thanks to an ex-husband who murdered his mistress because the woman was going to tell Blakesley about the affair.  She said it was called the Hollyhock Murder. Did you ever hear of it? I haven’t. Anyway, the ex is in jail and Blakesley is trying to start a new life for her daughters. I gotta tell you; her story was really crazy.   You’d think she’d be a basket case because of it, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders and she’s really trying to move forward. I admire that.”

Butch was waiting for the punch line, where Beck blew it, but nothing was forthcoming. “And?” he pressed.

Beck’s jaw ticked glumly. “And I went back over to the hotel this morning to take her and her little girls out to breakfast,” he said. “I was so glad to see her, you know? The moment I laid eyes on her, she just lit up my life.  She invited me to go with her and her girls to Sea World and I was so excited at the prospect of spending the day with her that I said things I shouldn’t have.”

Butch took a drink of his beer. “Like what?”

Beck put his hands over his face. “I told her that I felt alive for the first time in years because of her and that she makes me feel things I’ve been afraid to feel,” he pulled his hands away from his face, grossly depressed. “Oh, man, I just let it all come out. I said so much that I shouldn’t have. I came across like an emotional cripple and scared her off.”

Butch was looking at him with some sympathy.  He and Beck were old and good friends, and he knew how guarded the man usually was about his feelings.  He was always in control, one of the characteristics that made him such an excellent military commander. They didn’t come any cooler or steadier than Beck Seavington. It was surprising to hear that he had gone on an emotional binge that had evidently backfired on him.

“How do you know you scared her off?” Butch asked. “What did she say?”

Beck sighed heavily and took another drink of beer. “She asked me to leave,” he said. “She was really sweet about it, but she told me to go. So I did.  And I’ve been here ever since.”

Butch drew in a long, thoughtful breath, wondering how he could advise his friend out of this one.  He felt kind of guilty, like he had somehow contributed to this by egging Beck on to ask the woman out in the first place.

“Well,” he said slowly, trying to think of something of comfort to say. “It’s not like you were married to her or with her for years. You just met her. So it ended; so what? It never really got started.  You had a nice dinner with a beautiful woman that made you feel good.  It was a good night. It just wasn’t mean to last.”

Beck was fairly well drunk, but not so drunk that Butch’s words didn’t have impact. He looked at his friend. “But that’s not what I want,” he insisted. “I want it to last. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for my entire life, Butch. You just don’t get it.”

Butch wasn’t going to get into it with him. Beck was drunk, a rare occurrence, but he could become very emotional and combative when drunk.  Butch was a fairly big man but Beck had a right cross that could take down a charging bull.  Butch didn’t want to lose teeth.

“Look,” Butch put his hand on Beck’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, okay? Let me take you home.”

Beck just shook his head. “I don’t want to go home,” he told him. “I want to sit right here and drink myself to death.”

Butch sighed.  “Beck, you’re going to hate me for saying this, but you need to stop drinking. If we get a call, Davis is going to have your head if you’re plastered.  You need to sober up, son.”

“What I need is Blakesley.”

“I’m not sure that’s going to happen.  You need to forget about her.”

Beck didn’t want to hear that, draining the rest of his beer before Butch could stop him. Butch helped him stagger out to the parking lot, where Butch put him into the passenger side of his truck. 

Butch drove him back to his own house so he could keep an eye on him, but not before Beck threw up the contents of his stomach in the gutter once the truck came to a halt in his driveway.  Butch’s wife helped her husband drag Beck inside and put him on the couch before returning outside to hose down the puke.  She was pretty cool about it, mostly because she was as concerned for Beck as her husband was.

Beck didn’t wake up until his cell phone rang almost eleven hours later.

***

Monday morning dawned bright and clear. Blakesley knew this because she had been awake in the pre-dawn hours, drinking coffee and sitting on her patio watching the sunrise.  Her room faced the ocean and she could see a section of the naval base to the north.  Her chair was positioned so she had a clear view of it.

Sea World had been fun for the girls, a depressing disaster for her. All she could think of was Beck and how she had essentially chased him away.  It had been her fear talking and she’d spent a sleepless night wondering if she had done the right thing.  As the sun rose over the Pacific, she was coming to think that she’d made a big mistake.

Beck hadn’t been pushy. He had been honest. She’d held his business card in her hand all night, glancing at the numbers, the email address, the name, wondering if she should just throw caution to the wind and call him.  By the time the sun rose, she’d made a decision.  For better or worse, she would stick with it.

Turning on her cell phone, she stared at the numbers on his business card for about ten minutes before summoning enough courage to call.  Closing the patio doors so she wouldn’t wake the girls, she waited nervously as the phone rang six times, waiting for him to answer  but disappointed when it went straight to voice mail.   At the sound of the beep, she tried not to come across like an idiot.

“Hi, Beck,” she said softly. “This is Blakesley. I just wanted to call and tell you… well, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about yesterday. You were honest with me and I guess it just freaked me out.  I’m so sorry I told you to go away.   I was just overwhelmed with what you had said and… and I didn’t have the guts to tell you that I’ve been thinking the same thing.  So I suppose I can tell you now and hope you don’t hate me or think I’m some crazy witch.  I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings and I hope you can forgive me.  If… if you want to call me back, my number is 310-322-9222.  If you don’t want to call me back, I totally understand.  Take care of yourself.”