“I have an idea.” He was much too close, the already cramped kitchen seeming much more so with him near enough behind me to feel the warmth rolling off him. He smelled like a hazy memory—some basic soap or shampoo that I associated with my younger years.
“What?” My voice came out husky, my thoughts already turning inappropriately sexy.
“Let’s fix the pool table.”
“Oh. That.” Fool. Of course he didn’t share my problem of a wandering brain. But doing something, anything sounded better than more chances for my mind to get me in trouble. “Let’s do that.”
“I found a toolbox earlier. It has a level in it, so we should be able to fix the table by tightening the legs and adding a shim if necessary.”
“You’re a man of many talents.” I followed him back to the game room, stopping to collect the toolbox from the hall closet.
“I try.” Calder shrugged as he started examining the pool table this way and that. “With my dad at sea so much, Mom made sure that we all had basic fix-it skills.”
“Smart mom. I need to remember to show the girls things like screwdrivers and drills.” I wandered over to check the woodstove.
“Good idea. On the sub, I’m the guy who handles all the requests—everything from what brand of tea to toilet paper to broken facilities—and I’ve learned that a lot of the time it’s easier to fix something myself than try to delegate it out.” Opening the toolbox, Calder took out the level and a screwdriver, moving with the sort of competence I’d always found extremely sexy. Give me a person who knew what they were doing in some area over practiced flirting and buff muscles any day, but Calder also had the muscles and the charm.
Damn it. Why did he have to be so attractive? I paced back over to the pool table.
“See, I’m much more of a call-the-plumber sort of guy.” I had to work to keep my voice joking, not let on how distracting the flex of his arm and back muscles was. “I outsourced most of the renovation I’ve done on my grandparents’ place.”
“I’ve lived in the barracks so long, I’d probably end up calling for help too, but there’s something satisfying about doing it yourself.”
“Agreed. And you’d likely be excellent at DIY.” It made me strangely wistful that Calder didn’t have a home or a dream of getting one. For all he put on the freewheeling bachelor persona, he was surprisingly good at domestic tasks, and I wished he had more of an outlet for that side of himself. “I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to be helping here.”
Watching him work was a pleasure, but I shuffled my feet against the worn carpeting, needing something to do besides ogling him and thinking fanciful thoughts.
“Here, hold this.” Calder handed me the level, stepping closer than I expected. And then he dropped to his knees, an awkward movement thanks to his injury, but him kneeling in front of me still made my pulse gallop.
I sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”
“Checking this leg.” He gave me a quizzical look, like there was no other possible explanation. And there wasn’t. My overheated imagination was not his problem.
“Barracks, huh? That must make a…social life challenging.” Perhaps hearing about a parade of girlfriends would cool off some of my obsession and make his nearness less intoxicating.
“Yes and no. It does get old, but I like being around people. I wouldn’t want to live alone. And I’ve always been able to find a good time when I wanted one.”
“I’m sure.” The answer told me exactly nothing. “Pretty woman in every port? Isn’t that the stereotypical sailor lifestyle?”
He snorted at that. “I think you’ve seen too many bad movies. And come on, Felix. If you want to ask whether I’m straight, you can do better than some silly fishing expedition.”
Oh. I hadn’t expected his directness. My grip on the level slipped and I caught it right before it could hit Calder’s head. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Ha. I’m bi, but honestly, the number of people of any gender in any port is probably far smaller than people assume. Even my friends like to give me crap about the number of contacts in my phone, but I’m way more about hanging out than sleeping around.”
“Ah. Poker’s more captivating than sex?” I teased rather than let on how his being bisexual complicated everything that much more because maybe he did know what his looks and nearness and little quips were doing to me. My hand tightened around the level.
“Sometimes.” Calder shrugged.
Huh. I rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand. I’d had a fair bit of mediocre sex in my life, but I couldn’t say as I’d ever had a card game better than an orgasm. “I think that says more about the quality of sex you’ve had than your skill at the poker table.”
“Maybe.” His sly grin made me want to offer to show him that cards and truly transcendent sex weren’t even on the same plane of existence. He patted the pool table leg, and damned if I didn’t envy the hunk of varnished wood. “There. That should do it.”
“Thanks.” My breath caught again as he straightened, again too close. I could have stepped back. I didn’t. And neither did he, occupying my personal space with a dizzying level of confidence. He peered deeply into my eyes, like he could see every single sexy thought I’d had that day, and maybe he could.
Reaching out, he stroked his broad thumb down my jaw. I hadn’t shaved that morning, and I had the ridiculous urge to apologize for that fact. Anything to break this rising tension. But no words came, only a shiver at how damn good the contact felt. He ghosted his thumb across my lips, callus rasping against my lower lip, as electric as a kiss.
But he didn’t.
Didn’t kiss me.
Didn’t move away either and didn’t break eye contact. The intensity in his eyes unnerved me, rattled me on some cellular level. I worked all day with people struggling to remember various details, but I knew with a staggering amount of certainty that I was never forgetting his expression in that instant. His rugged features were soft yet startled, like he wanted me and was more than a little surprised at that turn of events, and like kissing me might be the answer he’d been looking for.
God, I wanted that, wanted to be what he was looking for.
“What are we doing?” I whispered, hoping he knew more than me.
SINK OR SWIM by Annabeth Albert
Shore Leave #2
Navy chief Calder Euler loves to win big. His latest score? A remote mountain cabin. Checking it out is supposed to be a quick trip, but Calder’s luck abruptly turns when a freak injury and a freakier snowstorm leave him stranded.
Oh, and the cabin isn’t empty. A silver fox caring for two young girls claims that the property is his, but Calder’s paperwork says otherwise.
Felix Sigurd is on a losing streak, and his ex-husband risking the cabin in a reckless bet is only the latest in a series of misfortunes. He’ll tolerate the handsome stranger for a couple nights–even care for his injuries—but that’s it.
Calder doesn’t know a damn thing about kids, but making pancakes for Felix’s girls is a surprising delight. Trapped in the cabin, the four of them slip easily into the rhythms of a family. But when the ice melts, they’ll have to decide if a future together is in the cards.
Romance Contemporary | Romance Military | LGBTQ Romance [Carina Adores, On Sale: February 22, 2022, Trade Size / e-Book, ISBN: 9781335454867 / eISBN: 9780369703842]
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About Annabeth Albert
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer. She has penned many critically acclaimed and fan-favorite LGBTQ romance series.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and particularly loves uncovering unique main characters. In her personal life, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two active children. She’s a compulsive knitter, late night reader, obsessive gamer, and happy bi-pride flag waver.
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