Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team 6
Tomorrow at sunrise, I’m marrying my steplover, Hunter. At long last, I’m marrying the man I’ve loved since we first met when our parents married—a dream come true.
However, one pesky question remains unanswered. I don’t know what happens after we say, “I do.” Is tonight the last time Hunter will share me with his friends, my dearly beloved playmates?
Note: This 6,400-word short story is the sixth installment of the short story series, With His SEAL Team.
Read an Excerpt
True to their word, the guys had taken care of everything with the attention to detail only SEALs could bring to bear.
Payton had booked and paid for all our flights to Mexico—economy plus, so lots of leg room for my big guys—and we all had seats in the same row. Watching the flustered flight attendants flirt with the men kept me chuckling throughout the long flight. I felt pride in being the lone woman among a group of uber-masculine and handsome men.
Harley, with his ever-present Bluetooth earpiece and clipboard, had only asked me a rare question now and then in the days leading up to our departure regarding plans for the ceremony as he worked with the resort’s wedding planner. He had taken off time from Soldier’s Sanctuary to be with me, since the guys had been busy with a short-notice training mission, only God knew where, before their military leave began.
At the resort, Marco had booked two suites and had the door between them removed. I’m sure that special request raised some eyebrows, but once we were there—and the staff got an eyeful of the “wedding party”—they couldn’t have been more obliging.
The view from the honeymoon suite was of the white-sand beach. Tomorrow, at sunrise, I’d be marrying my steplover, Hunter. At long last.
On the horizon, the sun was dipping beneath the edge of the sea. The sky was orange and mauve, the sun itself a brilliant, huge yellow-orange ball. I raised my cellphone to take a picture from the balcony, so I’d remember my last day of singlehood.
Hands slid around my waist. Dark hands. Very large hands. Payton snuggled his cheek against mine then kissed my temple. “Have we met your expectations, Sara-girl?”
I rubbed him right back like a kitten and placed my hands over his. “Not yet.”
“You are a hard woman to please.”
“Not true. I’m pretty simple.” I turned in his arms and hugged his waist. “You know I don’t need a fancy room or Mexico to make this perfect.”
“We’re not done with the surprises yet.”
I leaned back my head. “Oh yeah?” I lifted my eyebrows.
His wide smile flashed. “Come inside. Dinner’s served.”
Dinner, as it turned out, was me. Or rather—on me.