SEAL's Second Chance (A Navy SEAL Brotherhood Romance) by Ivy Jordan

Author:Ivy Jordan [Jordan, Ivy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-04T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Three

I hated to pull away from the safety of Theo’s strong arms, but I hated myself even more for wanting so desperately to stay snug within them. His demeanor changed as he pulled away, softened somehow, became a bit nervous, even.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I shrugged, not sure if I wanted to admit I was starving. “Have you eaten lunch?” he asked.

It was already close to three o’clock, but my nerves about our meeting had my stomach twisted, and I was unable to eat. “No,” I said softly.

“Well, since neither of us can cook, you wanna grab a bite at the bar?” he asked.

Now my stomach was really in knots. “I can grab something on my way home,” I stammered.

“C’mon. It’ll give us a chance to get to know one another. Besides, I do have some ground rules if we decide we’re a fit,” he said sternly.

Listening to his voice take the tone of an authority made me giggle. “What?” he asked, his lips curling into a sexy crooked smile.

“Ground rules?” I asked playfully.

“Of course. Ya know, stuff like, you can’t fall in love with me,” he chuckled, then winked.

I smirked, scrunching my nose up as I rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I sighed.

“Let’s go,” he said, almost whining.

“Okay,” I agreed.

Theo pointed to houses as we walked the three blocks to the bar, telling me who lived inside. He knew nearly all his neighbors, which for New York was oddly delightful. “Have you lived here your entire life?” I asked.

“Yes. With my grandma,” he said softly.

I didn’t ask where she was, assuming she’d passed on and left him the home. That at least explained why the rent was so cheap. But he could get a ton more, he had to know that.

“A lot of the people have moved on, but there are still some of the original ones left on the block,” he said, raising his hand to wave to an elderly man on a stoop we passed.

The bar was close to empty, with only a couple sitting in a booth, and three men at the bar arguing over the game on the TV. “Hey, Sal,” he greeted the bartender.

“You workin’ today?” the man asked.

Theo shook his head and smiled. “No, sir,” he said, heading behind the bar to serve himself.

“Light beer, right?” he asked, gripping a pitcher in one hand.

I nodded.

Sal smiled at me, with that kind of smile that insinuated I was a hook-up. I turned away, staring around the large bar, reading the funny signs, glancing at the couple in the booth, and then my eyes landed on the stage. I could picture Theo up there, playing, singing, whatever it was he did in the band. It made the tingle between my legs return, but also made my skin crawl at the thought of him eating up all the attention the groupies threw at him.

“Let’s grab this booth,” he said, moving past me with a pitcher full of beer and two large pilsners in his hands.

He slid into the booth, setting the beer and glasses on the table.

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