SEAL Next Door Page 9

  “I couldn’t tell you about that stuff,” he said. “Everything I do in the SEALs is classified. You don’t have the clearance for me to tell you.”

  Poppy folded her arms and snorted. “Trust me, you don’t want to start a game of you show me your clearance, I’ll show you mine. I think you might be disappointed. Regardless, your reasons for not telling me about Indonesia is the same reason I couldn’t tell you about the work I do here—clearance and need-to-know. I’ve never lied to you.”

  Sam regarded her for a long moment, his expression impossible to read. Then he shook his head. “I don’t really know you at all, do I?”

  With that, he turned and strode out of the room.

  While Poppy hadn’t been expecting an apology, she thought Sam would at least be willing to accept that he’d been jumping to conclusions. But she supposed that was too much to ask for.

  As pain tore through her heart at that knowledge, she found herself gasping for breath. She would have thought she was past hurting anymore. But she was wrong.

  * * * * *

  Sam ignored the knock on his door. Since moving out of the dorms, the only people who showed up at his door were his Teammates, takeout delivery people, or neighborhood kids trying to get him to buy candy for their school fund raisers. And Poppy, of course. His Teammates would have texted before coming over, he’d already bought more candy than he could eat in a year, and there was no way in hell it was Poppy.

  Poppy was never going to knock on his door again.

  Therefore, there was no reason to answer it.

  Another knock, louder this time.

  Sam didn’t move from the couch where he’d been sitting playing video games for the past hour. Whoever the hell was out there would go away sooner or later.

  He was fully aware that he was sulking. But seeing Poppy earlier today had hit him like a punch in the gut, ripping the air from his lungs and reminding him again how difficult it was going to be to get over her.

  He hadn’t thought too much about it when Chasen had called that morning and told Sam to wear civvies to work, but he’d gotten a little concerned when the van they’d all loaded into had turned into the parking lot of San Diego Mesa College. That concern had turned into full-blown panic when they’d pulled into the parking lot behind the campus’s math and physics building.

  As they walked through the maze-like hallways to a heavy unmarked door with a key card reader to one side, then were escorted by an armed guard, past more security checkpoints than they had at the Imperial Beach Complex on Coronado, finally to a fancy conference room where Lucero had been waiting. Sam had relaxed a little.

  Then Poppy had walked in.

  To say his Teammates were shocked to see her was putting it mildly. Hell, Sam thought he might actually pass out. Dalton had looked nearly as bad. Then his former girlfriend had started talking, making casual reference to North Korea ICBM nomenclatures, detailed nuclear warhead designs, and possible TNT equivalent yields. His head began to spin when she’d started going on about warhead miniaturization relative to missile range and deuterium/tritium containment bottles. He’d known she was smart, but that was a whole different level. It was like he’d never met the real Poppy at all.

  Things had only gotten worse after the briefing, when he’d confronted her about this new set of lies and deception. Only for her to point out that everything between them had been a lie and a deception. He’d walked out then, unwilling to face the truth of her statement.

  The ding of a notification on his phone interrupted his thoughts and he glanced down at his cell to see a text from Lane, asking if he wanted pizza.

  I’ll never turn down pizza, he wrote back.

  Good to hear since we’ve been standing outside your damn door for the past fifteen minutes, was Lane’s reply.

  Tossing the game controller on the table, Sam got up and walked around the boxes he still hadn’t unpacked to the door, knowing he was being played even as he opened the door. When he’d refused to answer their knock, his buddies had gone with the old pizza trick.

  To their credit, Lane and the guys had sprung for pizza, so at least he hadn’t been completely played. On the downside, Dalton was with Lane and Wes. Great. He and Dalton hadn’t said a word to each other since their fight and Sam wasn’t sure when they would. But at least Dalton’s bruises looked worse than his. That was something at least.

  “You still haven’t unpacked?” Wes asked, shoving some of the boxes aside with his foot to make room around the couch and the other chairs in the living room. “What are you, a slob?”

  Sam shrugged, flipping open the first pizza box on the stack Lane had dropped on his coffee table, dragging out a slice of pepperoni. “I still haven’t decided if I’m staying. It was awkward enough breaking up with Poppy. Now that I know she’s working with the CIA, it’s even weirder. I can’t imagine having to bump into her on a regular basis.”

  Nobody said anything, which kind of surprised him. His friends were never at a loss for words. Instead, Dalton walked into the kitchen and came out a few seconds later with a six pack of beer. He popped the top on one, then helped himself to a slice of the pizza.

  After they finished the first pizza in silence, Lane opened the second box. This one was sausage with extra cheese. Sam could definitely work with that.

  “I was wrong about Poppy,” Dalton said, tossing the remains of his most recent slice of pizza into the open box before heading for a fresh one. “She’s obviously not a stripper.”

  Sam stared at the piece of crust lying in the box, thinking about whether he should punch Dalton again. He hated people who wasted the best part of the pizza. He also didn’t think much of people who threw their cootie-covered leftovers back in the box, like he thought someone else was going to eat it for him.

  “Thanks for that brilliant friggin’ observation since I doubt the rest of us would have picked up on that,” Sam drawled. “You know, considering the fact that she just delivered a classified briefing for the CIA, using words I imagine you had to look up after the fact and all.”

  Lane and Wes tensed, like they were both ready to jump up and get between him and Dalton if things turned into a fight again. That effectively confirmed that their sole purpose in coming over here was to stop that from happening. Which meant Dalton must want to talk to Sam about Poppy.

  Goody.

  “I’m just saying that I was wrong,” Dalton repeated slowly. “Maybe it’s time you consider that you were wrong, too.”

  That rather introspective segue definitely caught Sam off guard. “Wrong about what, punching you in the face? Because you can trust me on this, I’ve never felt better about punching someone than I did you.”

  Dalton chuckled. “No, you punching me was legit. I should never have said what I did about Poppy, even if I thought it was true at the time. What I’m trying to say is that maybe you were wrong about giving up on her.”

  Sam wasn’t sure what to say. He’d assumed Chasen had told Dalton to talk to him in an effort to patch up the frayed team dynamic that had existed since their brawl. He definitely hadn’t expected Dalton to suggest that Sam try and get back together with Poppy.

  He had to fight the sudden urge to laugh. “I didn’t give up on her. Our relationship imploded because Poppy kept a secret from me.”

  Dalton let out a snort even as Lane and Wes started in on the third pizza.

  “What secret?” Dalton demanded, tossing another piece of crust in the box. “You can’t be upset at the fact that she didn’t tell you about her real job.”

  “No,” Sam snapped. “I don’t care about that. It’s hard to complain about Poppy keeping her real job a secret when I did the same thing.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Dalton asked, actually looking curious, if not a little confused. “Poppy got pissed that you lied about being a SEAL and you got pissed about her lying about being a covert nuclear weapons expert. You both say you’re sorry, then get back to being happy. Because trust me,
everyone on the Team knows you were happy as hell before this all blew up.”

  Sam was silent for a moment. Dalton made it sound so easy. “How the hell am I supposed to get back to being happy when all I can think about when I look at Poppy is that she slept with you?”

  Dalton frowned. “Look, you probably already know this, but if all you think about when you look at Poppy is me naked, then there’s something horribly wrong with you.”

  Sam didn’t even have the energy to get up from the couch and take a swing at his teammate. “You’re an asshole, you know that? I’m being serious here. I was falling for her and then I found out she slept with one of my friends and…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to get past that. So, I just lit the fuse and blew it the hell up.”

  A long, uncomfortable, silence met that announcement.

  From where he sat on the other couch, Dalton took a long swig of beer. “I never thought you were the brightest bulb in the box, but I never thought you were stupid either. Are you really going to blow the best thing you’ve ever had because you can’t deal with the fact that your girlfriend slept with someone else before she met you? What are you, back in high school?”

  Sam ground his jaw. “She didn’t just sleep with someone. She slept with you. The biggest horn-dog in southern California and possibly the world.”

  Dalton didn’t seem upset at all by the insult. “When Kimber walked out of my life years ago, I did some really stupid shit trying to forget her, including sleeping with a lot of women. And yeah, Poppy was one of them. But that’s ancient history—for her and for me. She didn’t do a damn thing to you, yet you’re acting like she cheated on you when you know it’s nothing more than you protecting your bruised ego. I’m telling you right now, you need to get over yourself and find a way to fix this because she’s damn sure better than someone like you deserves.”

  Sam opened his mouth to argue but closed it again because he couldn’t think of anything to say. He might not want to admit it, but Dalton had nailed it. This whole screwed-up situation came down to his insecurities at the idea of Poppy being with another man. He’d blamed everything on her, rather than look at himself in the mirror and accept that he was being a coward.

  So, what the hell was he supposed to do now? Recognizing precisely how badly he’d messed up didn’t make it any easier to solve. He’d had something good with Poppy and had effed it up.

  “Okay, let’s assume I agree with you,” he finally said, draining the last of his beer, then resting his head on the back of the couch and staring up at the popcorn ceiling as if there might be an answer to his dilemma there. “And that I’m a total jackass who messed up royally. How am I supposed to fix it? I have no idea what to say to Poppy, if I can even get her to listen to me.”

  “I don’t know much about women,” Lane said, opening up the fourth and last box of pizza. “Actually, it’s safe to say I know nothing about women. But even speaking from a place of ignorance, I think you need to start with an apology. Not a generic, my-bad type of apology either. I’m talking some serious, on-your-knees, groveling kind of apology.”

  “You should bring her flowers,” Wes added. “Lots of flowers. Women like flowers. Well, Kyla does anyway. Maybe a stuffed animal, too. You can even get a stuffed donkey and use it as part of your apology. You know, hold it out to her and say, Sorry I was an ass.”

  “I’m not sure Poppy is a stuffed animal kind of woman,” Dalton said. “Or that she’d appreciate your juvenile pun.” He looked at Sam. “Maybe you should bring her something a math nerd would fawn over, like a graphing calculator.”

  Sam stared at his Teammates, waiting for them to say more. When they didn’t, he let out a sigh. “That’s the best you guys have, grovel and bring flowers, a stuffed donkey, or a graphing calculator? No actual tips on what I should say or how I’m going to keep her from slamming the door in my face the moment she sees me?”

  Dalton shook his head while Lane and Wes grabbed more pizza.

  “Hey, we came here to help you to see the error of your ways, so you could hopefully get back together with Poppy,” Dalton pointed out. “You dug this hole for yourself, so you’re going to need to find a way to climb out of it. But if you want some serious advice, maybe you might want to think about being honest with her. Tell her why you were such an ass and that you want to start over. It might be the only approach that will work.”

  Sam knew Dalton was right, but the idea of knocking on Poppy’s door and laying it all on the line like that scared the hell out of him. Right now, he didn’t even know how to start the conversation.

  He was still trying to come up with something when the last of the pizza disappeared, and with it, so did his friends. Sam was still wrapped up in his own head, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to stop Dalton before he left.

  “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for coming over and setting me straight on this. I know you didn’t have to after what happened between us in Indonesia.”

  Dalton grinned. “You’re right. I didn’t. But no matter how badly you screw up or how many times you punch me, you’re still my brother and I’m always going to be there for you. Just don’t mess up this chance with Poppy, okay?”

  Sam watched his buddies walk away, then gazed across the hall at Poppy’s door, wondering how the hell he was ever going to pull off an apology.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The moment she heard the knock at her door, Poppy knew it was Nyla. Ever since the SEAL Team briefing two days ago, her friend had been checking on her every few hours, like she was afraid Poppy was going to have a complete and total meltdown. Which was crazy—and unfortunately—closer to the truth than Poppy wanted to admit. She’d been miserable since she and Sam had broken up and the confrontation in The Cave had only made it worse. She knew she needed to let it go, that she shouldn’t let some jackass guy get to her, and that she shouldn’t keep crying over him.

  She’d failed miserably at all three of those things. And Nyla knew it.

  Even though Poppy was sure it was her friend, she still checked the peephole. A lifetime of living in a big city had ingrained it into her. When she caught sight of Sam standing in the hallway, she froze, her head going into deep power save mode.

  404 Error…Page Not Found.

  It took another knock on the door to jar her back to the real world. Poppy seriously considered ignoring Sam and running back to the couch to hide. That’s pretty much what she’d been doing for the past two days anyway. Checking the hallway and stairwell before leaving her apartment, then sneaking around and doing anything she could to avoid running into him. Hell, last night she’d purposely worked until nine o’clock simply so she wouldn’t have to see him.

  “Poppy, I need to talk to you,” Sam said softly, his deep voice vibrating through the wood door. “Tell you something I should have told you before all this went so wrong. Please, if there was ever anything between us, give me a chance to say this one thing. If you don’t like what I have to say, I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

  Poppy knew she should avoid the drama surely waiting on the other side of the door, but the pain and sorrow in Sam’s voice tore at her. She also had to admit, she was curious about what he had to say.

  Praying she wasn’t making a mistake—a horrible mistake—that would only end up causing her more pain, she slowly flipped the lock on the door and opened it. Sam stood there with his hands behind his back, wearing faded jeans and a soft button-down left casually untucked at the bottom. Even though it had been less than two days since she’d seen him—thirty-two hours and eighteen minutes to be precise—he still took her breath away. He might look like he hadn’t slept in days and had more than his usual amount of scruff, but heaven help her, he looked good.

  “What are you doing here, Sam?” Poppy asked, needing to say something so she wouldn’t blurt out how much she’d missed him.

  The frustrating, yet admittedly hunky, SEAL didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought out both
hands from behind his back. In one, he held a bouquet of red poppies, and in the other, a colorful large plushie, almost completely square in shape. It only took her a second or two to figure out what she was looking at, and when she did, it took everything Poppy had to not launch herself at him and hug him senseless.

  “Where did you find a stuffed Rubik’s Cube?” she asked, reaching out to take both the flowers and the plushie from his hands, moving aside to let him into the apartment. He’d brought her a stuffed Rubik’s Cube. She had to let him in, right?

  “There’s pretty much nothing you can’t find online,” he said, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. “I thought I should bring some kind of peace offering so you’d give me enough time to apologize, and since we first met over a Rubik’s cube, I figured it might earn me a few brownie points.”

  Poppy turned to place the flowers on the coffee table in the living room, so Sam wouldn’t see her startled reaction. She’d hoped the conversation might go this way, but truthfully, she hadn’t thought it would.

  “Is that why you came here tonight?” she asked, her gaze still on the flowers. “To apologize?”

  “Yes,” he said. “For everything.”

  “Everything?” she repeated, turning back to face him, the plushie clutched possessively in her hands. “Apologizing for everything seems kind of vague. If you’re sincere about wanting to apologize, it might be better if you tell me exactly what you’re apologizing for.”

  Poppy expected some kind of push back at that, but Sam nodded. He moved further into the living room, but still left a lot of space between them.

  “I’m willing to do that if you’re willing to listen. Considering how badly I screwed up, it might take a while.”

  She moved over to the couch and sat down, crisscrossing her legs and holding the soft, squishy cube in her lap. “I don’t have any plans for the evening.”