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Authors: Kate Aster
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safety
deposit box key. I was just wondering if you knew anything about it. Call me
back when you get a chance.”
She frowned when she set down the phone and slipped the key
into her purse on the kitchen table. “Ten bucks says she doesn’t even mention
it when I next talk to her.”
“There’s that much bitterness between her and your aunt?”
“I wouldn’t call it bitterness. I’d call it—” she
paused, as though searching for the right word, and then shook her head, words
failing her.
“—family,” Maddox finished for her, with a slight
laugh to ease the tension. “Family is so fucked up sometimes.”
She cracked a smile. “You have no idea.”
Chapter Five
The clouds parted with a sliver of sun peering from behind
them, offering its warmth as Maddox sat with Bridget on a bench outside an ice
cream shop on Main Street.
It was his second day of exploring Annapolis with Bridget, and
also what he’d proclaimed to be “Covert Operations Day” since they’d sampled
ice cream from every ice cream parlor within walkable distance from downtown.
He was grateful to have her company; he needed a second
opinion since any ice cream other than Becca’s glorious 18% butterfat recipe
tasted like ass to him. They’d also gotten the phone numbers of three more
retail spaces available for lease, and Maddox was confident that he’d soon have
a signed lease in hand.
Her time would have been better spent preparing for her own
opening, rather than his, he considered. His mind wandered to the inn where she
lived, devoid of guests with the exception of himself. She’d said she wanted it
to be perfect when she opened. But no centuries-old B & B would ever be
perfect. There would always be something creaking, or leaking, or sagging. That
was just the nature of historic buildings. And Bridget seemed sharp enough to
know that.
So why was she delaying? It must have to do with those
family issues she mentioned. Only the bonds of family or white-hot lust, in his
opinion, had the power to make people do completely illogical things.
“Do you want to go to the Herndon Climb?” she asked, peering
above the Academy’s schedule of events listed in the free newspaper they’d
picked up on the side of the street.
“Herndon Climb?”
“Yeah. It’s when the plebes all try to climb a lard-covered
obelisk to—”
“—retrieve a Dixie cup cap from the top,” he finished,
suddenly recalling the tradition. He might not have gone to the Academy, but
enough of his friends were Academy graduates that he’d heard about the annual
Climb.
“You seem a little dubious,” she observed with a smirk. “You
don’t think they’ll make it to the top this year?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure why they’d want to.”
“Not into tradition?”
“Only into the SEAL ones.” He shrugged. “I shouldn’t be so cynical,
but I didn’t go here. To them, climbing that monument might be a tradition, but
I just see the prospect of getting a shit-load of lard in my face.”
Bridget laughed. “Name one SEAL tradition that is more
dignified than this.”
He felt his face transform, hardening, lost in a memory. “At
a SEAL funeral, we all pound our Tridents with our fists into the casket. That
way, a piece of us is buried with our teammate.”
She drew in a prolonged breath, and let it out slowly. “You
win,” she said after a beat. “How long has that tradition been going on?”
“Not long, actually. They wouldn’t have done it at my dad’s
funeral.”
Bridget’s gaze on him changed, the light in her eyes
draining away and being replaced by sorrow. “Oh, Maddox. I had no idea.” She
touched his hand to hers and he liked the feel of it, her warm skin blanketing
his.
“It’s okay. I was just six months old when he died. I don’t
remember him. I’ve got a stepdad now and a couple annoying stepbrothers.”
“So, your dad was a SEAL, too?”
Maddox nodded sharply, then gave himself a shake “But
deposit box key. I was just wondering if you knew anything about it. Call me
back when you get a chance.”
She frowned when she set down the phone and slipped the key
into her purse on the kitchen table. “Ten bucks says she doesn’t even mention
it when I next talk to her.”
“There’s that much bitterness between her and your aunt?”
“I wouldn’t call it bitterness. I’d call it—” she
paused, as though searching for the right word, and then shook her head, words
failing her.
“—family,” Maddox finished for her, with a slight
laugh to ease the tension. “Family is so fucked up sometimes.”
She cracked a smile. “You have no idea.”
Chapter Five
The clouds parted with a sliver of sun peering from behind
them, offering its warmth as Maddox sat with Bridget on a bench outside an ice
cream shop on Main Street.
It was his second day of exploring Annapolis with Bridget, and
also what he’d proclaimed to be “Covert Operations Day” since they’d sampled
ice cream from every ice cream parlor within walkable distance from downtown.
He was grateful to have her company; he needed a second
opinion since any ice cream other than Becca’s glorious 18% butterfat recipe
tasted like ass to him. They’d also gotten the phone numbers of three more
retail spaces available for lease, and Maddox was confident that he’d soon have
a signed lease in hand.
Her time would have been better spent preparing for her own
opening, rather than his, he considered. His mind wandered to the inn where she
lived, devoid of guests with the exception of himself. She’d said she wanted it
to be perfect when she opened. But no centuries-old B & B would ever be
perfect. There would always be something creaking, or leaking, or sagging. That
was just the nature of historic buildings. And Bridget seemed sharp enough to
know that.
So why was she delaying? It must have to do with those
family issues she mentioned. Only the bonds of family or white-hot lust, in his
opinion, had the power to make people do completely illogical things.
“Do you want to go to the Herndon Climb?” she asked, peering
above the Academy’s schedule of events listed in the free newspaper they’d
picked up on the side of the street.
“Herndon Climb?”
“Yeah. It’s when the plebes all try to climb a lard-covered
obelisk to—”
“—retrieve a Dixie cup cap from the top,” he finished,
suddenly recalling the tradition. He might not have gone to the Academy, but
enough of his friends were Academy graduates that he’d heard about the annual
Climb.
“You seem a little dubious,” she observed with a smirk. “You
don’t think they’ll make it to the top this year?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure why they’d want to.”
“Not into tradition?”
“Only into the SEAL ones.” He shrugged. “I shouldn’t be so cynical,
but I didn’t go here. To them, climbing that monument might be a tradition, but
I just see the prospect of getting a shit-load of lard in my face.”
Bridget laughed. “Name one SEAL tradition that is more
dignified than this.”
He felt his face transform, hardening, lost in a memory. “At
a SEAL funeral, we all pound our Tridents with our fists into the casket. That
way, a piece of us is buried with our teammate.”
She drew in a prolonged breath, and let it out slowly. “You
win,” she said after a beat. “How long has that tradition been going on?”
“Not long, actually. They wouldn’t have done it at my dad’s
funeral.”
Bridget’s gaze on him changed, the light in her eyes
draining away and being replaced by sorrow. “Oh, Maddox. I had no idea.” She
touched his hand to hers and he liked the feel of it, her warm skin blanketing
his.
“It’s okay. I was just six months old when he died. I don’t
remember him. I’ve got a stepdad now and a couple annoying stepbrothers.”
“So, your dad was a SEAL, too?”
Maddox nodded sharply, then gave himself a shake “But
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