Free The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) by Kate Aster Page B

it.”
    Noticeably relieved, Jack lifted his fork
and took another bite of his omelet. “Thank God. Because I’ve got 499 more at
home. So will you give it a try?”
    “Why are you doing all this for me,
Jack?”
    Eyes locked on hers, Jack remained silent
for a few beats, and then shook his head. “You’re always the one doing things
for all of us. Hell, I’m at your place as much as I am mine. But it goes both
ways, Maeve. You need to let us do things to help you, too.”
    It should be so easy. But if she accepted
his kindness, she felt her heart would get lost to him forever.
    Thoughtfully, she looked out the window
as the sun’s reflection laid out an impressive tangerine carpet along the
water. Daybreak was so beautiful, and she rarely had time to enjoy it, stuck in
traffic on the way to work every morning.
    For a brief moment, she allowed herself
to imagine beginning her work day at home, sipping her coffee on the back deck
with her laptop in front of her, watching the sunrise. Oh, she could get
creative in an atmosphere like that. “Okay,” she murmured, almost afraid to say
the word aloud.
    Jack almost looked shocked. “You’ll try
it?”
    Maeve smiled. “I’ll try it.” She looked
at Jack, and dared to touch her hand to his cheek. The subtle heat from his skin
penetrated her, not in the fiery way to which she was accustomed, but with a
comforting warmth that seemed to strengthen her. “And thanks, Jack.”
    He took her hand in his and lightly
kissed the underside of her palm, and then quickly set her hand down on the
cold table.

Chapter 5
     
    Maeve reverently touched the massive box
that lay safe in the top of her walk-in closet.
    Lacey peered past her. “What is it?”
    After carefully pulling it from the shelf,
she set it down on her bed and lifted the top. A smile touched her lips at the
sight of delicate Irish lace, perfectly preserved, still a rich, clean cream
barely showing signs of age.
    Lacey drew in a breath. “Is that your
grandmother’s gown?”
    “Mmhm.”
     “Oh, Maeve, it’s beautiful.”
    “They just don’t make gowns like this
anymore,” Maeve agreed, holding it up to her friend.
    “I’m almost afraid to touch it.”
    “It’s in great shape. It won’t rip.” She
guided her friend to the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door.
    Lacey stared into the mirror. “I love it.”
    “It’s a little old-fashioned. But it
would work, especially if we take down the neckline. It’s simple and
classic—perfect for a backyard wedding. You can wear it, if you want.”
    “I couldn’t.”
     “Sure you could. Do you know how
happy that would have made Gram?” She moved to stand along Lacey, gazing at her
friend’s radiant reflection. What a beautiful bride, Maeve thought, and imagined
Lacey taking Mick’s hand at the front of a long carpet blanketed with rose
petals, framed by an arbor dripping in flowers.
    Letting Lacey borrow Gram’s dress hadn’t
been part of the plan. But after shopping with Lacey for wedding gowns
unsuccessfully three times, Maeve was getting a little desperate.
    Her eyes still fastened on her own image,
Lacey looked wistful. “I’ll bet you looked beautiful in this dress, Maeve.”
    “I did—when I was nine years old
and playing dress up,” Maeve laughed.
    “You didn’t wear this when you got
married?”
    Maeve sat on the bed. “No. I wanted to. But
my mom wanted a big Southern nightmare of a wedding. I had to wear this huge
dress and a birdcage veil. I even had a parasol, though I refused to use it
except in the pictures. I looked like I was in a Civil War reenactment.”
    Lacey turned. “Maeve, I shouldn’t be the
one to wear this gown. You should. Geez, it looks like it was made for you. You
probably wouldn’t even have to take it in.”
    Maeve actually snorted. “I’m not getting
married again. Believe me.”
    “You don’t know that.”
    “I do.”
    “Why not?”
    “Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.”
Maeve