SEAL's RESOLVE - Rebecca Deel Page 0,66
the breakfast bar. “Sit here.” When she complied, Rafe massaged her shoulders and neck.
She moaned. “You’re hired as my massage therapist for life.”
He chuckled. “Glad I have career options.”
Jackson, who sat at the other end of the breakfast bar with his laptop, snorted.
“You heard the lady.” Rafe smiled at his teammate. “Magic hands.”
“The lady is biased. You should have better taste in men, Kristi. When you tire of Torres, come see me. We’ll ride off into the sunset together, and you won’t remember his name.”
“Hey.” Rafe lightly punched the other man on the shoulder before resuming the massage. “Find your own girl.”
“All the good ones are taken.” Jackson closed his laptop and stood. “What time is dinner?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be outside until then.” Seconds later, he was gone.
Rafe frowned. What was eating at Jackson?
“Is he all right?” Kristi asked.
“I’ll find out later.”
“How? Wolf Pack doesn’t share feelings with each other.”
Rafe chuckled. “I’ll hassle him, of course. What else would a good friend do?”
“Is he upset because we’re together?” She twisted to face him. “I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your teammates.”
He kissed her, aware they could be interrupted by his teammates or the installation team. “Something’s been bothering Jackson for a while. I’ll find out what’s going on. Do you feel better or should I continue the massage?”
“I’m better. How can I help?”
“How are you at assembling a salad?”
“I’m the salad prep queen. When I’m pressed for time and need a quick meal, grilled chicken on top of a salad is my first choice.”
“You’re hired. Salad stuff is in the refrigerator.”
“What’s dinner?”
“Chicken fettuccine and salad.”
She stared. “You made fettuccine from scratch?”
“Not this time. When we have time, I’d like to try it together. I used pre-made pasta and alfredo sauce.”
When they finished the meal preparation, he called in his teammates and went to look for Santos.
Rafe found his friend on the second floor, wiring the outside access door for the alarm system. “How’s it going?”
“We have at least three more hours of work. Sorry, buddy. We’re moving as fast as we can.”
“No problem. Dinner’s ready if you and your team want to eat.”
Santos stared. “Are you serious? You made dinner for us?”
He shrugged, cheeks burning. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a good, hearty meal. I made enough to feed an army.”
The other man grinned. “We’ll take it. Thanks, Rafe. Do you want us to come down in shifts?”
“Not necessary if your guys don’t mind sitting on the floor.”
“We’ll meet you downstairs.”
As Rafe retraced his steps, Santos gave an ear-splitting whistle and told his team to head to the first-floor kitchen.
An hour later, everyone had eaten, and Jackson and Cal volunteered for kitchen cleanup. “You and Kristi did the hard work,” Cal said. “Eli and Jon are sleeping. You have night watch and should rest yourself.”
“Kristi has to work. I’ll keep her company for a while.” Even with the security system in place, he’d feel better if he was with her.
Kristi threaded her fingers through Rafe’s. “The workroom has a comfortable couch. I use it when I’m working late and need a power nap.” She smiled as she tugged him toward the hallway. “I’ll give you a pillow and blanket.”
“Sounds good.” He squeezed her fingers as he followed her to the end of the hall.
Inside the workroom, Kristi frowned as the installation work resumed. “Will you be able to sleep with that racket?”
“I’ll be fine.”
She grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet and handed them to Rafe. “The pillowcase is fresh.” After giving him a quick kiss, Kristi went to her desk and sat in front of her computer. Minutes later, a large printer began to print pattern pieces.
Fascinated, Rafe watched the printing process as Kristi left the room and returned with bolts of fabric.
She unrolled the material. “I thought you needed to sleep.”
“Soon. This process is interesting.”
“You’ve never seen a garment made from scratch?”
He chuckled, thinking of the mess his mother had made of pajamas bottoms for him and his brothers for Christmas one year. She never attempted to make clothes from scratch again. “My mother made matching pajama bottoms for me and my brothers one year. She never tried to sew again.”
“Didn’t turn out well, huh?”
“We wore them anyway, but Mom wouldn’t let us use them when we had sleepovers with friends. She said if anyone saw the pajamas, she wouldn’t be able to face our friends’ parents.”
“How old were you boys when she made them?”
“Elementary school. We were growing so fast back then that she