SEALed Under the Mistletoe

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

KNOX

T he draft beer was good and cold, but he hated drinking alone. Tony was supposed to be there, but his wife had gone into labor early. If he hadn’t already arrived at the bar and ordered the beer, he would have just left. He wasn’t about to let a perfectly good beer go to waste, though.

Instead, Knox sat back, drank, and observed his surroundings. He knew where every exit was. Vigilance was a habit, a demand of his work. The skills he’d honed over the past two decades didn’t just disappear because it was his night off.

Night off—that was laughable. How many “nights off” had been interrupted by a call from work? He envied the group of young Marines getting drunk in the corner, carefree, like he’d once been. He remembered what it was like to be young and reckless, chasing skirts without a second thought of the consequences.

Any moment, his phone could ring, pulling him out of the bar and thrusting him back into that dark world of good versus evil. A world where he felt more at home than in this one, if he were to be honest.

One beer, then he’d go home, catch the highlights from the game, and crash. Unlike the Marines, he’d be going home alone. It had been a long week. He could call his neighbor Sarah, who’d made her interest abundantly clear, cleavage and all. She’d spread her legs for him whenever he wanted, no questions asked.

But he wasn’t going to call her. He didn’t need that kind of drama in his life. He wasn’t desperate for a warm body between his sheets. These days, he wanted more than just a purely physical connection. The itch he needed to scratch was less physical, more emotional. His line of work demanded a certain type of woman. Loyal, patient, and independent enough to be left alone for long periods of time with little warning.

Just as he was taking another swallow of beer, he overheard a woman at the next table accusing the man across from her of being married. Interesting turn of events. As he scrolled through trending news stories on his phone, he tuned into their conversation, intrigued.

She was about five-foot-six and curvy, with dark brown, almost black hair framing her face. He could usually peg someone’s height with precision. Curvy in all the right places—just the way he liked.

And she was tearing into the poor guy across from her. This woman was a handful, in body and in spirit. Knox felt the pull. He wanted to tame both.

As he listened to her outline what she wanted in a man, he realized she was looking for him, whether or not she knew it. He met every one of her requirements, at least the ones she voiced.

He was pretty sure he ticked off a few unspoken boxes, too. The ones she wouldn’t dare say aloud. Qualities she might not even admit to herself because she was strong, intelligent, a bit of a feminist. She would likely respond well to a dominant man who valued her pleasure and his own. Knox would bet his right hand she was a closet submissive, craving someone to take her and let her feel cherished in a way that made her own strength shine.

He imagined she needed to be taken from behind and spanked. The way she spoke about plus-sized women with conviction and yet, she couldn’t hide the thread of vulnerability laced in her words. He saw the hurt she tried to disguise. There was something in her that made his fists clench, itching to find the men who had mistreated her and make them pay.

This moment felt like fate. If Tony had been there, Knox wouldn’t have overheard the conversation, and he wouldn’t be standing up now, walking over to her table. Clearing his throat, he tapped her on the shoulder and waited for her to turn around. When she saw him, her mouth dropped open.

“How about you don’t post the ad,” he said, “and let me take you out instead?”

“Excuse me?” she replied, her eyes the color of the North Pacific, a vibrant teal that surprised him. The dim bar lighting had hidden their brightness until now.

“Your personal ad,” he clarified. “The one entitled ‘Must Love Curves.’ Or do I need to wait for it to be published before I ask you out? I could save you the time and effort.”

“Wow. You eavesdrop on our conversation and then admit it as a pickup line?” She shifted in her seat, gripping her soda glass a little tighter. Despite her attempt to sound offended, he could tell—she was nervous.

Good. If she couldn’t feel the electricity between them, he’d eat the glass she was holding.

Knox stepped closer, leaning down to meet her at eye level. He wondered, just briefly, how her eyes would look staring up at him, glazed over from the pleasure he’d just given her.

“You can pretend to be offended, Wendy,” he murmured, “but it was hard to ignore you when you kept looking my way every few seconds.”

“You know my name?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I caught the introductions,” he replied, smiling. “I heard every word between you and Jon.”

Her lower lip slipped under her teeth as she bit down on it. Instinctively, he felt the need to direct her.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he said softly, and watched as she released it, her tongue flicking over the top one. “Yes, pretty girl, I listened to your conversation. You were close enough, and you weren’t exactly speaking quietly. I’m not apologizing for listening. I liked what I heard—for the most part.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she asked, almost against her own will, “What didn’t you like?”

Knox saw her hesitation; she’d probably wanted to play it cool. But her games might work on boys, not men.

“I didn’t like how you talked about yourself,” he said firmly. “Or the fact that you let others demean you. If you were mine, your confidence would radiate. You’d know your worth, and you wouldn’t let anyone treat you otherwise.”

“O—oh.” She blinked, taken aback.

“Because, as it happens, I love curves.” He smiled. “And I’m pretty sure I’m the man who’s going to make you love them, too.”

“What do you mean? I already love my curves.”

“If you were mine, you’d know better than to lie to me.”

He saw the realization hit her; she was in trouble, deep. Her shifting body betrayed her. Knox’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, steadying her, while his other hand covered hers, still tapping on the table.

“I know what kind of romance books you’re reading,” he murmured. “Those alpha males you mentioned to Jon? You want a man who protects you, both your body and your heart. To do that, you’d have to give him both.”

Her name wasn’t really Wendy, he knew that much. But he wasn’t ready to reveal what he knew just yet.

“Yes, I do!” she protested, pouting. The expression was adorable. He wanted to kiss her right then.

“Do you? Really?” He took in her bravado and saw the truth. “You’ve accepted your body, maybe, but you don’t love it. If you did, you wouldn’t let anyone treat you poorly because of it.”

“I never thought about it that way.”

He slid his hand from her shoulder as the waitress passed, his fingers lingering near her on the table.

“Maybe you read romance with alpha men because you need their strength,” he suggested. “And one who’d stand up for his woman.”

Her lip slipped back under her teeth, but his quick frown freed it.

“My woman wouldn’t need anyone’s strength to know her worth,” Knox went on. “She’d feel beautiful, wanted, strong. And she’d stand tall with no need of a man to give her validation.”

“You say all the right things,” she replied skeptically. “That’s usually a red flag for a woman.”

Knox narrowed his gaze, his tone turning stern. “How many men have come along and said these things to you?”

She shook her head, admitting, “None. But you listened to what I wanted and served it back to me on a silver platter.”

“Sweetheart, do you think for a second I’m giving you a line?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation. That made him smile.

Knox leaned closer, growling in her ear, “Little girl, I don’t make suggestions. I make promises,” pausing just long enough to breathe warm air against her neck, “and I never break a promise.”

Finally, he stepped back, watching her catch her breath. The waitress delivered her wings, checking on her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

She nodded, smiling. “I am.”

The waitress gave Knox a warning glare as she walked away.

“So, I’ll ask you again,” he said. “Do I need to wait for the ad, or will you let me take you out?”

“I don’t go out on dates,” she replied, looking down.

“Why not?”

“I just… don’t.”

“That’s not a reason,” he said, his voice deepening.

After a moment, she sighed, confessing, “I guess I don’t want to get attached and then end up hurt.”

Knox’s gaze softened. He wanted to find whoever had hurt her and make them pay. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Sure,” she laughed, doubt clouding her tone.

“One night,” she said finally.

Knox needed to clarify. “What?”

“One date. That’s all I can give you.”

“I’ll take it,” he said confidently, though he had no intention of it ending there. One date was all he’d need to change her mind.

“When?” she asked. “Next Friday?”

“How about now?”

“Now?”

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“I have half of a chimichanga waiting for me at home,” she said with a smirk.

“You could eat that,” he suggested, “or I could cook for you.”

“You?”

“Yes. Why don’t we go back to my place, and I’ll make you dinner?”

After a long moment, she nodded.

“Good deal. Now, before we go, why don’t you tell me your real name?”

“W-w-hat?”

“One thing I know for certain. Your name is not Wendy. I don’t like to start anything off with a lie. What’s your name?”

“My name is Victoria Anne, but my friends all call me Vickie. Now you know my name. What is yours?”

“Knox.”

She choked on her Diet Coke. “If that isn’t out of one of my romance novels, I don’t know what is.”