Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) Read Online Free PDF

but he didn’t. Maybe it was a guy thing. Maybe he hadn’t noticed that the circles were a little less than perfect or that you could see the spots where the glue had dripped. I probably wasn’t supposed to use pink velvet ribbons either, but I got tired of the constant red and green. And okay, I ran out. And added sequins, because sparkly was good and just looking at those wreaths cheered me up.
    Frankly, I was cheered up now, thinking about Mr. Buff and Tough hauling them through the Christmas tree farm. Glitter shed like crazy, which he’d find out when he got home. Wherever home was. Next time he jumped, he’d leave a trail of sparkly dust behind him like Tinker Bell on steroids.
    He reached in his pocket, pulled out three twenties, and tucked the money into my hand. “Sold.”
    “I feel sullied,” I told him, and he grinned. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I felt his mouth stretch against my throat. Jacks really should have come with a warning label. Or a keep off the grass sign.
    And then his hand slid across my front, his fingers dipping inside my shirt. “Not part of the—” deal was what I intended to say, but something embarrassingly close to a sigh escaped my mouth instead. He tugged my phone free, stepped back, and tapped the screen.
    “You should really set a password on this,” he said.
    “I have one,” I muttered.
    “1234 is not a password.” He did something and handed the phone back. “Now you’ve got my number. In case you need anything.”
    He spent sixty bucks to put his number in my phone? Maybe he’d hit his head on that ponderosa pine yesterday. And then hit it again today.
    “You don’t need to stare at your phone like it’s a goddamned snake.” He removed the wreaths from the wall and stacked them.
    “Why?” I still couldn’t figure out what he really wanted. It darned certain wasn’t Christmas greenery though.
    “Why not? You don’t think you might want help at some point?”
    “I’ve got this,” I said. This covered pretty much everything. I wasn’t sure when Jacks had decided I was a fragile flower who needed protecting, but he needed to stop it. I’d spent the last six months discovering how much I liked being on my own.
    “You know what your problem is?” he asked, picking up his purchases and turning toward the door.
    “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” This was familiar ground from my married days. Mark had had plenty to say about my faults, shortcomings, and never-ending list of inadequacies. Funny how the screwups had only gone one way though. He was apparently Mr. Perfect right up until the moment he walked out the door.
    “You don’t want me to help you. You don’t want anyone to help you.”
    “Kind of a sweeping generalization there.” But true.
    He looked down at the lopsided bow on his Christmas wreath and then over at me. “Would it kill you to accept a little help?”
    I wondered how he would feel if all the women in his life decided he needed fixing and then decided to act on that decision unilaterally. I’d bet he wouldn’t be so gung ho about accepting help then. Nope. I bet he’d alternate between the fuck-off and leave-me-the-hell-alone camps.
    “I’ve got this,” I repeated. “The tree, the job, my life. It’s all covered, Jacks. I can take care of myself. I do take care of myself.”
    He gave another one of those disbelieving grunts that apparently passed for insightful communication in his universe. Maybe I should use one-syllable words. Maybe he’d hear me then.
    “That because Mr. Dick failed so spectacularly at his job?”
    Honestly, Jacks would be so much easier to take if he never opened his mouth. He had a gift for riling me up, and we both knew it. He asked his question, and my blood pressure soared.
    It didn’t help that he was partially right. My ex had convinced me that dropping out of college to move in with him was the right choice. According to him, I hadn’t needed a degree in art