Sealed and Delivered. Jill Monroe

store.

      And since she was in the mood, she’d chalk her purchase up to fate, rather than poor impulse control.

      Chapter One

       Two Weeks Later

      NOT EVEN THE SOUND of footsteps echoed in the Naval Special Warfare Center as Lieutenant Commander Na-thanial “Nate” Peterson led his trainees through the corridor. Each exercise had grown steadily more dangerous, and even though they’d gone over every aspect in the classroom, actuality always heightened the senses. Made the tension more acute.

      “Where’s the party?” a trainee called laughingly from the back. “I hear you always know.”

      Nate’s shoulders straightened. Strange thing about tension…some soldiers rose to the challenge, some men snapped and some, well, some of them bellowed smartass remarks to their superior.

      “You’re never going to live that reputation down.” Riley laughed quietly beside him. Their steps slowed as they approached the locker area where the men would change into their wetsuits.

      Nate shot a disgusted look at the man he’d known since their BUD/S training class. True, Nate had earned a reputation as a man who liked to play hard but he worked just as hard. Harder, actually. And yes, he always knew where the party was. But there was something all SEALs understood, and that was to keep priorities in order.

      Something that smartass hadn’t yet realized. Some men knew and understood from the beginning when to turn it off and on. Others needed that knowledge worked into their thick heads. Like the Ensign behind him. As it had been for Nate a few years back.

      Nate stopped, and turned to stare at the man who’d called the question, not needing to see the man to know who he was. Harper treaded toward a familiarity he hadn’t yet earned. “Maybe a party isn’t what you should be concerned about, Ensign Harper. Your swim time is slipping.”

      The younger man’s back stiffened, and the other trainees hustled quickly into the locker room.

      “So’s your conditioning,” Nate added. This next minute would be crucial. How Harper handled the criticism would prove to Nate if that man had what it took to earn his Trident. SEALs took evaluation and adapted and made themselves better.

      The Ensign swallowed. “I’ve passed.”

      Eight years ago Nate was this guy, with his BUD/S, Hell Week and Jump School behind him. All that stood in the way between the Ensign and the Trident that turned a man into a SEAL was The Finishing School or the official name—SEAL Qualifications Training, here on Coronado. With the end prize in sight, that was something a man could get cocky about. But that cockiness would be a downfall…no question about it.

      Although surely that had been long gone in Nate by the time he’d hit SQT. Some hardass instructor had ensured it. A man lost his swagger when he was wet, cold and covered in sand. Lost the arrogance, because his life, and that of his Team, depended on professionalism not ego.

      Now it was his turn to make sure these men thought only of focus and discipline, and each other, not themselves.

      Unfortunately.

      “Minimum standards are forty-two pushups in two minutes. You content with the minimum?” Nate asked.

      Something stony and strong-willed flared inside the other man’s eyes. Good. “No sir,” he answered, with nothing but determination in his voice.

      No sir was right. Harper might just be the best man to come out of this class.

      “Suit up,” Nate ordered and turned, not waiting for a response. Their next drill was in an hour.

      Once the candidates were out of earshot, Riley glanced at him. “How do you keep a straight face during that?”

      Nate let his guard down a little and smiled. “By counting the hours until I’m out of here,” Nate told him as they continued down the hall, just the two of them. “Besides, if I’m not on the Teams, I’m damn well going to make sure my replacement can do the job.”

      “Still doing the physical therapy?” Riley asked.

      Nate shrugged. Three months ago, he’d been injured while rescuing a pirated freighter with rigged explosives. Now another man had his spot on his Team. While Nate was teaching. The muscles of his right leg cramped, and he breathed through his nose. Control.

      But as soon as he was healthy, goodbye settling for being an instructor, goodbye Coronado Island, goodbye San Diego.

      “If it’s any consolation, I’ve heard good things about the training you’re providing. I guarantee your fresh-off-deployment perspective will save a life.”

      He knew what Riley was trying to do, and appreciated the effort but men didn’t join the SEALs for a pat on the back. Most of the stuff he and his fellow SEALs had done was so covert the files wouldn’t be opened until he was long gone. Little would ever make the history books.

      But Nate’s friend did point out a reality. In another year, these men might be beside him down range. Most of these men he’d be happy to serve next to as SEALs…but they weren’t there yet. He might not like instructing, but he’d make damn sure the new guys wouldn’t hold a Team back. They’d be ready on day one. “So is there a party?” Riley asked hopefully.

      “After this exercise, I’m on my way to pick up the beer,” he said, with a wink.

      “Hoo yah.”

      

      “WHOO HOO! NAKED!”

      The echoes of laughter flowed from the newly-repainted Tea Room into the modernized kitchen. Hailey glanced at her sister Rachel and smiled. “Those are the sounds of a good party.”

      “I have to hand it to you, Hailey. You did a great job with this wedding shower.”

      “As you’ve pointed out, I’ve had three. Glad something useful came out of those relationships.” With a flourish, Hailey topped the last of the mousse with chocolate shavings. “Of course you can’t really go wrong with chocolate and champagne.”

      “Or naked beefcake.”

      “I don’t think The Sutherland is quite ready for that.” Hailey lifted the tray and scooted backwards, pushing the door out into the Tea Room with her backside.

      “The chocolate’s here!” called Amy Bradford, the bride to be. Although they’d been friends since school, they’d lost track of each other. Reuniting with old pals was another positive she could attribute to returning home.

      “Wait,” said a redhead, who Hailey had learned was the maid of honor. “The girls and I chipped in and bought you something to wear on your wedding night.” The other guests met this announcement with everything from giggles to a few oohhs. In a flourish, she presented to the bride a large paper-wrapped box tied with a bright yellow bow.

      “Five bucks says that box is empty,” Rachel whispered.

      Hailey glanced at the dozen or so women. Despite their pastel sundresses, these ladies looked like they were up for a little mischief. Hailey shook her head. “Not taking that bet.”

      Careful not to rip the ribbon, the bride did indeed open an empty box to the laughter of the group. With the last present now revealed, Hailey and her sister moved forward to serve the desserts. The rest of the guests made room on the table for the treat their little B&B had always been known for in decades past.

      Amy glanced up toward Hailey. “I can’t tell you how excited I am that you have reopened The Sutherland. When I was seven and a flower girl, my aunt had her shower here.”

      “Amy’s had her heart set on this place ever since,” the maid of honor added. “I couldn’t believe my luck when I found out you just happened to have a free weekend.”

      The two sisters looked at