Hot SEAL, Confirmed Bachelor- Cynthia D'Alba Page 0,8
close enough to have pressed lips, not that she would’ve even thought about that since she’d been, after all, in the middle of saving someone’s life. Still, she’d planned to thank him after everything was over, but he'd stood with two model-thin beauties wearing scraps of materials that passed as bikinis, and she’d shrugged him off as out of her league, not that she was completely sure what her league was.
She drew in a deep breath and lied to her family. “Tall, yes. He’s probably six-three or so.”
“You’re dating him and you don’t know how tall he is?” Her brother Lawrence asked. “Seems like something you’d know.”
“Really?” Bethany asked. “We’re engaged. How tall am I?”
He waved her off. “Not important.”
“Sure, it is.” Bethany said and rested her chin in her hand. “How tall am I? For that matter….” She shut her eyes. “How tall and what color are my eyes?”
Lawrence sighed. “Height is five-seven and your eyes are hazel.”
Bethany’s eyes flew open. “That’s right.”
“See? I notice things like that,” Lawrence said and turned back to Holly. “You really ought to let us check him out. He could be a serial killer for all you know.”
“How very kind of you,” she said in a droll, sarcastic tone. “But, forget it.”
“What else?” Diana asked. “Dark hair?”
“More silver blond.” Holly looked at Lawrence. “Blue eyes, by the way.” Holly had no idea if this imaginary guy had blue eyes or green or hazel or turquoise. She was making this up anyway. “So, tall, silver hair, blue eyes. Wide shoulders. Very muscular. Very handsome.”
Her mother smiled. “I’m so happy for you, honey. We all just want you to be happy.”
“I know. Mom.”
Danny, her youngest brother, frowned. “This guy in the Navy? Maybe a SEAL?”
Holly’s heart leapt into her throat. “Why’d you ask that?”
Danny shrugged. “Frogmen are everywhere around here. I just wondered.”
“No,” she said hurriedly. “He’s a teacher, like me.”
Patrick pointed at her with the glass of wine he’d just lifted. “Ben. Silver hair. Teacher. I can probably ID this guy within a week.”
“Let it go, son,” her father said, aiming a glare his way.
“Thanks, Dad,” Holly said with a smile. “You’re my favorite dad ever.”
“I can do it faster than Patrick can,” he said.
Holly growled and went back to eating. With her dad and Patrick targeting San Diego schools looking for a ghost named Ben with silver hair, she should be in the clear.
Once dinner was over and cleanup accomplished, Holly, Diana, and Bethany said their farewells and headed out for the first of four monthly bachelorette parties leading up to Bethany and Lawrence’s September’s wedding.
“Now, remind me again where you’re headed,” Patrick said.
“Bridgman’s Bar,” his wife told him.
“Never heard of it.”
“You know,” Bethany said. “It’s where that guy who got married on that stupid reality show works.”
Patrick frowned and looked at his brothers. “Do either of you have any idea what she’s talking about?”
Lawrence shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s a long story. I’ll explain after they’re gone.” He hugged his fiancée. “I’ll pick you up about midnight.”
Bethany kissed him. “Works for me. Someone will have to drive Holly home.”
“Nope,” Holly said. “I never drink enough to get drunk. I’ll be fine. I’ll get myself home. Let me say bye to Katie and we’ll head out.”
The three ladies piled into Holly’s small sedan and drove into Coronado. The live music filtering from the open doors of the Bridgman bar was a homing beacon. The back lot was crowded, but there was still ample parking and Holly slid her car in between a black truck and a red Honda.
The place was alive with music and dancing. The tables were full and most of the barstools occupied. Luckily, they spotted one table across the room right at the edge of the dance floor. Holly hotfooted it toward the empty table, not wanting to spend the entire night standing by the bar.
Truth be told, she’d never been that comfortable with the singles bar scene. She’d met her late husband when they’d been fifteen, long before either of them had been of drinking age. When their daughter was born, they’d both been twenty. When the big twenty-first birthdays hit, they’d been struggling with an infant, jobs, college, and a marriage that felt like it’d been built on the San Andreas Fault.
When Steve had died on the job, Holly had been left a twenty-two-year-old widow with a two-year-old daughter, bills, and college courses that required her attention to graduate since she was the sole provider now. Life hadn’t been