Bodyguard SEAL (SEALs of Coronado Book 8) by Paige Tyler (best classic literature txt) 📗

one-and-a-half baths, and an outdoor grill that was the envy of the neighbors.

Noah was mesmerized for a moment, watching Peyton gaze at the framed photos mounted on the walls, and the trinkets and knickknacks from his travels set out here and there. He realized he liked her in his space. She looked good here.

“I’m going to grab my suit,” he forced himself to say, finally remembering why they were there in the first place. “Make yourself at home.”

Peyton nodded, her attention focused on the photos.

Noah walked into his bedroom and over to the closet. As he flipped through the mix of military and civilian clothes, he replayed the past few hours. He’d never been to a salon before, and after the one he’d gone to with Peyton, he doubted he ever would. It’d definitely been one of the stranger experiences of his life.

It had been one of those fancy places with lots of potted plants, scented candles, and a waterfall feature right in the middle of the waiting area. In the background, a soundtrack of tranquil music and rain forest sounds had been playing. He supposed it was meant to be relaxing, but it made him feel like he’d been trapped in an elevator.

Peyton had told him she’d be a while, suggesting he might want to head out and find a bookstore or some other place to wait until she was done. But there was no way he was going to leave her unguarded, so he’d settled in one of the stuffed chairs in the lobby to wait.

They didn’t have any magazines he could see himself reading—women’s fashion wasn’t his thing—but after spending an hour reading the latest college football preseason news on his phone, he’d been desperate enough to try anything and finally picked up a copy of Cosmo. If he’d gotten strange looks from the salon’s clients before, that was nothing compared to how they’d eyed him when they saw him flipping through an article on the wildest sex positions ever published. Truthfully, they didn’t seem that wild to him. Some even looked sort of boring. And quite a few of the rest were likely physically impossible unless you were made out of rubber.

But as strange as it was to be sitting in a salon reading a Cosmo, the thing that weirded him out the most was all the women who kept asking if he’d like to get his hair done while he waited. When he politely declined—several times—they decided to offer him a mani-pedi.

“All the men are getting them now,” a freckled redhead had told him, staring at his hands with an intensity that actually scared him a little

Noah could comfortably say he’d never met a man who’d gotten a mani-pedi. And he could also comfortably say he’d lived for twenty-eight years without getting his nails filed and buffed and that he was pretty sure he didn’t need to start now. Trying to convince the women who worked at the salon of that fact was harder than he thought it’d be. They were scary aggressive when it came to talking up their services. Kind of like the people who tried to sell you timeshare rentals at the beach.

He’d never been so relieved when Peyton had finally come out and rescued him. He’d been so rattled he’d barely remembered to tell her how beautiful she looked.

Shaking his head at the memory, Noah found his favorite dark charcoal suit to one side of his closet and pulled it out. Thankfully, the Team commander had talked him into getting it a while ago. Up until that point, Noah had worn his Navy whites to formal functions. It’d seemed like a waste of money to splurge on a suit, but he had to admit it was the best money he ever spent.

If nothing else, the suit was proving to be a lifesaver for Peyton’s big release party. Without it, he would have been forced to go on a shopping spree with her. And while he enjoyed hanging out with her, shopping was not how he preferred to spend that time.

He stuffed the suit in a nylon garment bag, then added a light-blue dress shirt before tossing a tie in a small overnight bag along with a pair of socks and black dress shoes. Doing a quick mental inventory to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, he zipped the bags, then turned for the door and stopped, his gaze locking on the gun safe in the back of the closest. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should take a weapon with him tonight. He had a small frame 9mm automatic it there, along with a slimline holster designed to fit inside the waist of his suit pants. No one would even see it.

Unless he had to pull it out of course.

Then someone would certainly see it and he’d be screwed. Yes, it would add an extra level of protection if something happened, but at the same time, if he drew a weapon that he had no concealed carry permit for, he’d end up in jail. And likely in trouble with Chasen and headquarters.

After hesitating for a few more seconds, Noah shook his head, then headed back into the living room. He only hoped he didn’t regret this decision.

Peyton was standing by the fireplace looking at the framed photos on the mantel and those along the wall. There were some of him with his mom and sister, but most were of him with his SEAL Team or places he’d gotten to visit. Noah set down the overnight bag, then draped the garment one over the back of the couch and walked over to stand beside her.

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a smile. “I recognize a lot of these guys from the promotion party the other night, but not all of them.”

He motioned at one of the group photos. “These four are on a mission overseas. And these three were all medically discharged from the SEALs due to injuries