catch hell if I look like this.â He gestured to his own sweat-drenched body in the ubiquitous yellow Navy shorts.
Declan nodded. âProbably right.â
âRain check,â said Dan, turning around and taking off like a devil who had the Heavenly Host hot on his trail.
Declan shook his head. He didnât envy the man. Marriage and family were big steps, though Dan had seemed to adjust okay to it. His mind sped ahead. Maybe if he had someone like Aria. Nah, she wasnât his type. But Maura⦠He could see himself getting serious with her. The idea caught him by surprise, and that was a feat, for he was a man who had contingency plans for his contingency plans.
Spying Mauraâs notebook on the ground, Declan leaned over and picked it up. Paging through it, he was fascinated by the sketches. She had written equations and drawn figures in motion, jumping, turning, and twisting. Alongside each picture were notes explaining how high the jumps were, when to turn, and how to twist in a timely manner. Never in his life had he seen anything like this. This must be for her parkour stuff. Declan had been intrigued when she had told him about the gym and her parkour activities. She was definitely a woman who enjoyed physical activity and really seemed to have found her niche.
He closed the cover, walked the few remaining steps to her glass door, and knocked. When Maura didnât answer, he left the notebook on her patio chair and headed back to his own apartment. With one last glance back at her door, he smiled and headed in. The lady had certainly piqued his curiosity, and the more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know about her.
In his apartment, he stripped off his running shorts, throwing them into the open closet that contained his sack of sweaty laundry. The soothing earth tones of his apartment made it a real retreat for him, from the cream leather couch and mocha recliners to the warm, dark wall colors. This was his haven, surrounded by the stuff heâd collected through the years: ancient bows and arrows, books on strategies and languages, an assortment of framed handmade knives, and a large screen TV with a stack of his favorite movies.
He flipped on his CD player preloaded with The Who, the bass beat sounding in his gut. The band reminded him of his childhood, his mother playing the song âBehind Blue Eyesâ and his three-year-old self learning to dance, mimicking her steps. He could still smell the honeysuckle thick in the air and almost hear the lilting sound of her laughter as they spun around in circles and did the box step. He always wanted to be her âlittle hero,â and heâd like to think she would be proud of him today.
Itâd been hard having no one there to represent family at his BUD/S graduation so many years ago. Picking up the picture of her he kept next to the stereo, he studied her image. âI miss you, Mom.â He wondered what sheâd think of Maura.
He put down the picture, the only familial object in his apartment. The rest of pictures consisted of collages from BUD/S training and graduation and places heâd been between missions.
Looking in the giant circular mirrorâinlaid with real gold chunks dug up on a trip to Julian, California, and hanging in the hall near the doorâhe wondered what was next. Right now he was living his greatest dream, and he had done pretty much everything on his âfrogucketâ/bucket list, including making love to ladies in exotic, if not erotic, positions. Ahem, places.
A second alarm sounded from his phone. Damn, he was going to be late if he kept dithering and daydreaming. Work didnât stop, and he had a meeting with the CO this morning. Granted, it was two hours from now, but he had to prep.
He grabbed a coffee drink, popped the top, and took a long draw of the thick, rich brew, then headed straight to the shower. As heat pelted his skin, he smiled into the stream of the
Declan nodded. âProbably right.â
âRain check,â said Dan, turning around and taking off like a devil who had the Heavenly Host hot on his trail.
Declan shook his head. He didnât envy the man. Marriage and family were big steps, though Dan had seemed to adjust okay to it. His mind sped ahead. Maybe if he had someone like Aria. Nah, she wasnât his type. But Maura⦠He could see himself getting serious with her. The idea caught him by surprise, and that was a feat, for he was a man who had contingency plans for his contingency plans.
Spying Mauraâs notebook on the ground, Declan leaned over and picked it up. Paging through it, he was fascinated by the sketches. She had written equations and drawn figures in motion, jumping, turning, and twisting. Alongside each picture were notes explaining how high the jumps were, when to turn, and how to twist in a timely manner. Never in his life had he seen anything like this. This must be for her parkour stuff. Declan had been intrigued when she had told him about the gym and her parkour activities. She was definitely a woman who enjoyed physical activity and really seemed to have found her niche.
He closed the cover, walked the few remaining steps to her glass door, and knocked. When Maura didnât answer, he left the notebook on her patio chair and headed back to his own apartment. With one last glance back at her door, he smiled and headed in. The lady had certainly piqued his curiosity, and the more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know about her.
In his apartment, he stripped off his running shorts, throwing them into the open closet that contained his sack of sweaty laundry. The soothing earth tones of his apartment made it a real retreat for him, from the cream leather couch and mocha recliners to the warm, dark wall colors. This was his haven, surrounded by the stuff heâd collected through the years: ancient bows and arrows, books on strategies and languages, an assortment of framed handmade knives, and a large screen TV with a stack of his favorite movies.
He flipped on his CD player preloaded with The Who, the bass beat sounding in his gut. The band reminded him of his childhood, his mother playing the song âBehind Blue Eyesâ and his three-year-old self learning to dance, mimicking her steps. He could still smell the honeysuckle thick in the air and almost hear the lilting sound of her laughter as they spun around in circles and did the box step. He always wanted to be her âlittle hero,â and heâd like to think she would be proud of him today.
Itâd been hard having no one there to represent family at his BUD/S graduation so many years ago. Picking up the picture of her he kept next to the stereo, he studied her image. âI miss you, Mom.â He wondered what sheâd think of Maura.
He put down the picture, the only familial object in his apartment. The rest of pictures consisted of collages from BUD/S training and graduation and places heâd been between missions.
Looking in the giant circular mirrorâinlaid with real gold chunks dug up on a trip to Julian, California, and hanging in the hall near the doorâhe wondered what was next. Right now he was living his greatest dream, and he had done pretty much everything on his âfrogucketâ/bucket list, including making love to ladies in exotic, if not erotic, positions. Ahem, places.
A second alarm sounded from his phone. Damn, he was going to be late if he kept dithering and daydreaming. Work didnât stop, and he had a meeting with the CO this morning. Granted, it was two hours from now, but he had to prep.
He grabbed a coffee drink, popped the top, and took a long draw of the thick, rich brew, then headed straight to the shower. As heat pelted his skin, he smiled into the stream of the
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