Her One Best SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 6) by Anne Marsh

yet—and sometimes you need to get where you’re headed fast.
    The tiki bar on the edge of the water is a much happier place than the desert haunting my memories. Unless there’s a storm building out over the Gulf, it’s an awesome place to sit and knock back a beer. It has no walls and the roof is made from palm fronds—little bits tend to drift down and land in your drink. Bright red and blue Adirondack chairs dot the sand outside. If you choose to belly up to the bar, your only seating choices are swings. I’ve never heard any complaints, though.
    As soon as I’m (mostly) parked, Finn vaults out of my truck and makes a beeline for Vali. She’s definitely something—dark-haired, lush curves, eyes that twinkle and smile. She’s a baker, a cook, and a goddamned-amazing candy maker, so she always smells of cinnamon and vanilla. Her skin is a warm, sun-kissed color that makes me think of caramels. I’m not surprised Finn wants to eat her up. She’s smart, she’s talented, she looks like a goddess, and for completely unfathomable reasons she’s convinced Finn is the best man God ever made. I’ve offered to prove otherwise, but so far she’s turned me down. Finn’s a lucky man, and he knows it.
    Their first kiss is suitably G-rated, barely a brush of the lips, except that Finn gets this goofy look on his face. When he’s not around Vali, he’s the same guy he’s always been. He’s foul-mouthed, pleasure-loving, and loyal as fuck. There’s no better man to have watching your six and your ass. When he’s with Vali, however, those rough edges soften and I see a different side of him. The inside part that’s mushy and full of feelings I’d rather not be witnessing firsthand. I’ve walked in on guys going at it with their girls in ways that make porn look tame, but this feels more personal. Finn loves Vali, and he wants the whole world to know it.
    Ro is already at the bar, organizing drinks for everybody. He’s still the same, thank God. Most of the time, he can’t forget that he was the lieutenant commander who ordered our asses around overseas. He also looked after, mentored, and kicked said asses too, so it’s not like we didn’t appreciate him. He just has a hard time letting go—or giving up control. He places our usual drink orders in a deep, steady voice. Finn once claimed there was nothing better for putting him to sleep—he could listen to Ro talk and be out like a light. More effective than Valium, too. Obviously, Finn was joking, but he had a point. Ro takes charge effortlessly and he’s so calm you sometimes forget he’s breathing.
    I drop onto an empty Adirondack chair and stare out at the ocean. Fucking love this. It feels like a vacation to sit here and not be planning an attack—from underwater or under cover of the palms or from overhead. Still, old habits die hard. While I’m considering the slope of the beach floor and the likely best angle of attack, my beer materializes over my right shoulder.
    “Don’t forget to tip your server,” Ro drawls, and I grin.
    “Get a life. Date a hot cutie.” I flick the lime out of my longneck and chuck it into the ocean.
    Ro settles in beside me, legs stretched out in the sand. “We’ve got ladies joining us.”
    Vali almost always travels with her posse, so I’m not surprised when the girlfiends (Vali’s name, not mine) drift in. In addition to Marlee, Ava Shelton makes up the evil third in their triumvirate. She’s a redheaded divorce lawyer and she eats guys like me for breakfast. In her world, I’m nothing more than a shark-sized snack to be chewed up and spit out during a single court session. She’s sleek and put-together, even if she is facing down a night of first-class mojitos on a Florida beach rather than a courtroom and a hostile spouse. Her cotton sundress is crisp, the pleats as perfect as her ponytail. The woman not only owns an iron, but she uses it. Regularly.
    We’ve taken to calling our nights out date nights, but