Page 7 of Honor-Bound SEAL
“Sure, honey. Nice that you’ve met some new people.” Wes had complained for months that his social circle, never enormous to begin with, had shrunk depressingly in the last eighteen months as more and more high-school and work friends had left for San Antonio, Dallas, and further afield. “You gonna do a beer run?”
The couple wrote up a shopping list while Raven helped clean up after lunch. “Wes chooses nice friends, just so you’re not worried that a pickup full of drunk-ass good ol’ boys is on its way,” Maggie said with a chuckle. “One of the guys from his last construction job even had a year of college under his belt.”
Raven whistled sarcastically. “A wholeyear?”
“Ladies, please,” interjected Wes. “These are honest men, god-fearing and clean-shaven. Hell, one of them used to date a pastor’s daughter. It don’t get more wholesome than that.”
“She was plenty wholesomebeforehe dated her,” whispered Maggie. “Not so muchafter.” This earned Maggie a slapped ass — hardly her first of the afternoon, Raven noted — and the two horsed around while Raven finished the chores.
“Jeez, get a room, why don’t ya?” she quipped.
“Oh, that ship well and truly sailed already,” said Maggie, laughing. “Right, honey?”
Wes was settingup the grill when Raven emerged from another quiet session of writing in her room. It had actually turned into a decent nap, and she felt as good as she had in months. Steaks and salad seemed to be on the menu, and Wes had already popped at least one Bud Light, two cases of which crowded the fridge. Maggie bustled around the kitchen and living room, straightening up the place.
“It’s not royalty that’s heading over here, ya know,” Wes called through from the front yard. “Hey, Raven, you think maybe she’s trying to impress these guys with her home-maker credentials? Huh? Looking to upgrade from carpenter to ditch-digger?” Maggie took time out of her chores to march up and thwack Wes’s ass and then resumed directing Raven as she tried to help.
“Upgrade,” she muttered. “Hard to imagine me doing better than him, God preserve us.”
Raven smiled but kept quiet. There was commotion outside. Peeking through the mosquito screen of the front door, Raven spotted two tall men carrying more cases of beer, one of whom chose to break boisterously into song:
If it hadn’t been for Cotton-Eye Joe,
I’d have been married a long time ago,
Where did you come from, where did you go?
Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?
Wes joined in with characteristic verve, and the front lawn briefly hosted an animated sing-along. The shorter of the two visitors started dancing a little jig — or something similar, Raven really couldn’t be sure — while the other watched, one hand on his hip and another cradling the twelve-pack of beers on his shoulder. He had the tolerant smile of someone who was very used to these antics, but not yet ready to get involved. Patiently, he waited for Wes and Mitch to simmer down before being introduced to the host.
“Good to meet you, buddy. Mitch tells me you’re a lifelong Rangers fan.”
“Never miss a game unless I’m in jail,” offered the tall, dark man. His voice had that calmly measured tone of someone entirely comfortable meeting new people. He and Wes shook hands and then Wes waved them all into the house.
“Honey? I want you to meet Mitch Murphy, he’s the guy I told you about from the housing job outside of Pendale. And this is... sorry, buddy, was it Rig?”
The stranger laughed, a carefree sound. Raven appeared in the kitchen, drawn by the noise outside and the unfamiliar men’s voices. “Ridge,” he reminded Wes politely. “Ridge Dawson, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Maggie and this is Raven.” Maggie took Ridge’s hand with a cheery smile, and then it was Raven’s turn.
“Very nice to meet you both,” Ridge said. “Raven...” He paused for a moment. “Is that your actual given name?”
“Yes,” she stammered.
“A beautiful name, and a pleasure meeting you,” Ridge said courteously. He turned to stow the beers and Raven found herself rather brazenly checking out his ass; it had been some time since she’d looked a man up and down, but his tall, impressively muscular frame seemed to demand it. Of their own accord, her eyes scanned Ridge’s torso as he stocked the fridge, noticing how his tight black t-shirt accentuated what were surely quite spectacular abdominal and pectoral muscles. Less hidden were impressively thick biceps, and sturdy forearms like the low branches of an old oak. Neatly cropped jet-black hair gave him an almost military look, but in comfort-fit dark-blue jeans — and the black t-shirt which he filled out so tantalizingly well — he gave off a pleasantly casual, confident Friday-evening vibe. And those blue eyes?Down, girl!
He also smelled absolutely wonderful, smiling as he eased past her into the living room.
Click.Maggie’s fingers snapped right in front of Raven’s nose. “Er, noticed that we have guests, did you?”
“Umm?”
“You want to finish up that salad and maybe put the buns out by the grill so they’re ready?” Maggie asked.
“Buns?”
Maggie stared at her. “Did you leave your brain in your room?”