spindly rocker he’d perched on and strode toward him, his arms wide. The hug he gave Carter was only slightly less breath stealing than the pounding he gave Carter’s shoulders. When they both stood back, they grinned.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Carter asked. The last time he’d seen Mac was at the farewell party the team had given him in Little Creek when he’d left the Navy a year ago. He tapped Mac’s rock-hard belly with the back of his hand. “Thought you’d be working on a beer belly on some Mexican beach.”
Mac snorted. “Didn’t get a week into my bender before I had a dude standing at my cabana door, givin’ me the same sales pitch I’m about to give you.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “Is that right?”
Mac blew out a breath, and then glanced down at Carter’s legs. “Heard about the bomb. Also heard you were in rehab…”
Carter grimaced. He thought he’d hidden his limp pretty well. “It’s still healing. Might never be back a hundred percent.”
“Heard you might be leaving the SEALs…”
Carter’s gaze cut to the barn just as Melanie walked into the sunlight, a hand raised to shield her eyes as she stared across the distance. “Looks like…”
“Well, I’m here to see how you are, and to let you know you’ve got alternatives, bro. We need people like you.”
“We?”
“I work for an outfit called the Charter Group. Spec ops. Commander Martir is the head of special operations, and he’s always on the lookout for a good man.”
Carter blew out a breath, not looking away from Melanie who was walking their way now. “We can talk. But like I said. I may never fully heal.”
“Won’t matter. Fifty percent of a SEAL is still better than anyone else we could hire. Like I said, you have options.”
As Melanie drew nearer, he could see a frown darkening her face. “How about we table the pitch until later?” he murmured. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Mac glanced toward Melanie, and a slow smile stretched his mouth. “I see you already have some alternatives,” he said softly.
Carter grunted. When Melanie began to climb, he stepped toward her, reaching for her hand, which surprised her; he could tell by the way one red-gold brow arched. “Mel, I’d like you to meet John McLane. No Die Hard jokes. We call him Mac.”
Melanie pulled her hand free, offered Mac a smile, and then reached to shake his hand. Carter nearly smirked at her bemused expression as his friend’s large hand engulfed hers.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Melanie,” she said, glancing at Carter. “Did you offer him something to drink?”
“Haven’t gotten that far.” Carter removed his cowboy hat and waved toward the door. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll see about getting you something. Want a beer or a whiskey?”
“Have to work on that gut, don’t I?”
Carter grinned. “I’ll see about a beer.”
“I will,” Melanie said. “You stay with your friend. You visiting for a while, Mac? I’ll let Tilda know to set another place for lunch.”
Mac nodded. “If you don’t mind. It’s a long drive back to Dallas.”
Carter knew that was where Charter was headquartered. He’d already received an offer from them—while he’d been laid up in the hospital, and later, a former SEAL he’d never met had visited him in rehab to talk to him about the company.
Big Mac was just one of his old buddies who’d drifted to the company once they’d left active service, but it was nice knowing that if he accepted their very generous offer, he’d see familiar faces.
The two men settled onto the large sectional couch in the living room.
Mac glanced around, his gaze going to the large beams in the vaulted ceiling. “Nice place.”
Carter shrugged. “It’s my dad’s.”
Mac shot him a sharpened stare. “I was a little surprised to hear you’d come home.”
Mac had been privy to Carter’s refusal to come home for his brother’s funeral, but didn’t know why
“What the hell are you doing here?” Carter asked. The last time he’d seen Mac was at the farewell party the team had given him in Little Creek when he’d left the Navy a year ago. He tapped Mac’s rock-hard belly with the back of his hand. “Thought you’d be working on a beer belly on some Mexican beach.”
Mac snorted. “Didn’t get a week into my bender before I had a dude standing at my cabana door, givin’ me the same sales pitch I’m about to give you.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “Is that right?”
Mac blew out a breath, and then glanced down at Carter’s legs. “Heard about the bomb. Also heard you were in rehab…”
Carter grimaced. He thought he’d hidden his limp pretty well. “It’s still healing. Might never be back a hundred percent.”
“Heard you might be leaving the SEALs…”
Carter’s gaze cut to the barn just as Melanie walked into the sunlight, a hand raised to shield her eyes as she stared across the distance. “Looks like…”
“Well, I’m here to see how you are, and to let you know you’ve got alternatives, bro. We need people like you.”
“We?”
“I work for an outfit called the Charter Group. Spec ops. Commander Martir is the head of special operations, and he’s always on the lookout for a good man.”
Carter blew out a breath, not looking away from Melanie who was walking their way now. “We can talk. But like I said. I may never fully heal.”
“Won’t matter. Fifty percent of a SEAL is still better than anyone else we could hire. Like I said, you have options.”
As Melanie drew nearer, he could see a frown darkening her face. “How about we table the pitch until later?” he murmured. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Mac glanced toward Melanie, and a slow smile stretched his mouth. “I see you already have some alternatives,” he said softly.
Carter grunted. When Melanie began to climb, he stepped toward her, reaching for her hand, which surprised her; he could tell by the way one red-gold brow arched. “Mel, I’d like you to meet John McLane. No Die Hard jokes. We call him Mac.”
Melanie pulled her hand free, offered Mac a smile, and then reached to shake his hand. Carter nearly smirked at her bemused expression as his friend’s large hand engulfed hers.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Melanie,” she said, glancing at Carter. “Did you offer him something to drink?”
“Haven’t gotten that far.” Carter removed his cowboy hat and waved toward the door. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll see about getting you something. Want a beer or a whiskey?”
“Have to work on that gut, don’t I?”
Carter grinned. “I’ll see about a beer.”
“I will,” Melanie said. “You stay with your friend. You visiting for a while, Mac? I’ll let Tilda know to set another place for lunch.”
Mac nodded. “If you don’t mind. It’s a long drive back to Dallas.”
Carter knew that was where Charter was headquartered. He’d already received an offer from them—while he’d been laid up in the hospital, and later, a former SEAL he’d never met had visited him in rehab to talk to him about the company.
Big Mac was just one of his old buddies who’d drifted to the company once they’d left active service, but it was nice knowing that if he accepted their very generous offer, he’d see familiar faces.
The two men settled onto the large sectional couch in the living room.
Mac glanced around, his gaze going to the large beams in the vaulted ceiling. “Nice place.”
Carter shrugged. “It’s my dad’s.”
Mac shot him a sharpened stare. “I was a little surprised to hear you’d come home.”
Mac had been privy to Carter’s refusal to come home for his brother’s funeral, but didn’t know why
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