Remember When (Teach Me Book 3) Page 4

  “Yo, pretty boy! Get your fine ass over here and play me a love song,” Doc called out to him. Miller was glad to see that his former teammate had joined them. His friend had just gotten out of a long-distance relationship, and from what they could tell—not that their friend was giving much away since he’d been pretty tight-lipped—it hadn’t ended well.

  He took a seat beside Kane who was tuning his own Gibson Blues King guitar beside Lawson. Lawson was the newbie when it came to playing guitar but had shown he was a fast learner. That guy was a character, always joking around, often with inappropriate humor, so he fit right in with them.

  Unbuckling his guitar case, Miller pulled out his acoustic Cole Clark and tuned it, tossing a glance toward the guys.

  “What song do you feel like starting with?”

  They looked at one another, shrugging, before Kane offered, “Your choice to start.”

  Miller began strumming the first few notes of Jack Johnson’s “Wasting Time”, Lawson and Kane joined in before he began singing. Not needing an additional guitarist, Doc joined in with an egg shaker, adding another set of vocals to the chorus. As the song ended, Kane led them into Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved”.

  As he strummed his guitar, Miller allowed himself to get lost in the music, in the lyrics, and let his mind wander. He recalled picking up a guitar from one of his buddies, Hendy, while they were on one of their many deployments, waiting around for what seemed like forever to get the okay from higher-ups to carry out their mission. Hendy had taught him how to play and it had ended up being Miller’s saving grace, something to help take his mind off of the whole she who shall remain nameless debacle. He had poured himself into playing, loving the escape music granted him.

  After the song ended, applause drew him from his thoughts. Looking up to see their audience, he noticed the ladies had joined them, along with a new guest: a guy with dark hair and nearly the same height as himself with a lean yet muscular build. A deep groove appeared between Miller’s brows, noticing the guy talking to Tate, who was standing a little too close for his liking. Not that he could blame the guy. She’d done something different to her hair, styled it in a way that made his—er, might make someone’s—fingers itch to run through it. And her lips looked glossy, inviting.

  Fuck. She was probably into the guy. That button down shirt paired with neatly pressed khakis made him resemble a leaner version of Superman. Eyeing the guy up and down, he thought— Wait … did that dude just touch her elbow? Miller’s lips turned down, eyes growing squinty.

  “Didn’t your mama ever tell you that your face’ll stay like that?” Kane’s voice broke through and he turned to see his roommate watching him with amusement.

  Returning his attention to his guitar, he muttered, “What do you want to play next?”

  “I’ve got a totally random suggestion.” The amusement lacing Kane’s voice proved his suggestion was going to be anything but random. “How about “Heartbreak Warfare”?”

  Miller glanced at his friend, who merely offered a cheeky grin.

  “Whatever, dude,” he mumbled, trying to recall the first few notes of the song. Damn Kane and his song suggestion. As if Tate wouldn’t notice the song and the lyrics.

  Then, again, maybe Tate wouldn’t notice the song choice at all, he thought, looking over to where she was still deep in conversation with the dark-haired guy. Miller didn’t want to admit that the idea of her not noticing him or the song he was singing stung. Quite a bit.

  Damn you, Tate Fucking Donnelly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I’M PROUD OF YOU TONIGHT, sweetie,” Raine whispered to her as they hugged. Everyone was saying their good-byes, about to leave and head home.

  Tate grabbed her purse from the barstool at the kitchen island, rooting around inside for her keys. “Well, you outdid yourself on that potato salad. That was delicious. And onion-free, no less.” Finding her keys, she looked up to see an odd expression upon her friend’s face.

  Raine slowly stated, “I didn’t make that.”

  “I did.” The response came from behind Tate. Her entire spine stiffened, recognizing the voice. Bracing herself before turning to face him, she looked up into those familiar deep blue eyes, framed with the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.

  “Um, it was really good.” She inwardly winced at hearing the hesitation in her own voice. His eyes watched her, as if analyzing her words, her expression.

  Miller’s lips quirked upward. “No onions, just the way you like it,” he said softly.

  Tate felt her breath catch at his admission. Did that mean he had made the potato salad especially for her? Knowing that she hated onions, he had purposely omitted them? She faltered for a reply, unsure of how to respond.

  “No onions because, ew, who likes to kiss someone with onion breath, right?” Lawson remarked.

  “Oooh! Does that mean some kissin’ will be goin’ on tonight?” Kane’s drawl was more pronounced.

  Doc slung an arm around Kane’s shoulders. “Not tonight, lover.”

  Kane pouted, barely restraining a grin. “You’re such a tease.”

  Tipping his head, Doc said, “I love you, man.”

  Pretending to polish his nails on his shirt, Kane’s tone was one of nonchalance. “I know.”

  “Did you just Han Solo me?” Doc stared in mock dismay.

  Kane grinned. “Damn straight. You know it’s hot.”

  Mac threw his head back in a laugh before slapping a hand on Kane’s back. “If you two ladies are done with your PDA, it’s time to go.”

  Kane drew back in fake outrage. “But, wait! You don’t want me to hang around for a little, you know …” He ran a hand over his chest in a caress before running his fingers in circles around his nipples.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Doc mumbled with a low laugh and shoved his friend’s shoulder. “Knock it off, you perv. Save it for someone who’s interested.”

  Turning to Tate, Kane wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Tate, darlin’. You feel like takin’ a ride on the love train with a real man?”

  Tate stifled her laughter, sucking in her cheeks to hold back a smile. Clearly, someone had imbibed quite a bit tonight. Miller hooked a tanned, muscular arm around Kane’s neck, eyes on her for a moment before he glanced around to everyone else. “That’s our cue to get loverboy out of here. Have a good night, everyone.”

  As the men said their good-byes and exited the house, she filed behind them walking beside Pearce. He had been really sweet and fun to talk with throughout the night. However, she couldn’t deny that her attention had wavered as soon as Miller had begun playing guitar and singing with the guys. She’d found herself wondering when he’d learned to play and how many women he’d serenaded over the years. Because … well, everyone knew women had a thing for men who could play the guitar and sing.

  “So, I guess I’ll see you on Monday?” Pearce’s question broke through her musings.

  “Oh, yes, definitely.” She smiled. “I had a great time talking with you tonight.” They walked to where his car was parked in the driveway. Miller and Doc were ushering Kane into Miller’s Jeep Rubicon. Laney and Zach had already left, giving Lawson a ride home. Foster had left early as he was the designated on call person for the night and an issue had arisen at one of their sites.

  “Maybe we can grab sushi sometime, now that I finally know someone who loves it as much as I do,” he offered, those kind, brown eyes crinkling up at the corners as he smiled. Just as she was about to respond, a voice rang out.

  “It’s against the bro-code to poach, man! Don’t do it! Don’t d—” Kane’s voice was suddenly cut off, sounding muffled as if someone has slapped a hand over his mouth.

  Laughing with a wince, she gave Pearce an apologetic look. “Yeah. So. Those are my friends.”

  He chuckled. “They seem pretty cool.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” she laughed. “Well, I’d better head out. Drive safe.”

  “Have a go
od night, Tate,” he said softly before getting into his car.

  She waited for everyone to back up and head onto South Fletcher Avenue to make the drive home before she got into her own car. Buckling her seatbelt, she started the ignition and sat there for a moment.

  There was no denying that nagging feeling—the feeling like she had to man up and take initiative. She just hoped it would be reciprocated. Because the time had come.

  She had to have a talk with Miller Vaughn.

  * * *

  Miller breathed a sigh of relief upon entering the quiet beach house. He’d dropped Doc and Kane off at The Turtle, a bar down in the historic downtown area of Fernandina Beach. They were going to enjoy themselves a bit more, probably chat up some ladies and end up taking a cab home.

  Miller had stripped out of his shirt and jeans, pulling on a pair of low slung workout shorts and a comfortably worn cotton undershirt, padding through the dimly lit house. There was a full moon and the late night view of the moonlit ocean would be a sight to see paired with the lapping waves of the Atlantic. As he was about to grab a beer from the fridge, planning to bring it out onto the deck, there was a quiet knock at the door.

  Checking the time on his watch, he noted that it was nearly twelve-thirty, and considering the fact that neither Doc nor Kane would be knocking on the door, his entire body went on alert. His bare feet were nearly silent as he walked along the hardwood floor to the front door. Peering through the peephole, he felt shock reverberate through him at the person standing on the other side.

  Opening the door, Miller eyed her with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “Tate.”

  “Miller.” Standing there beneath the light’s glow, her blonde hair shone.

  He smirked. “You out selling Girl Scout cookies this late at night?”

  She rolled those blue eyes at him, lips forming the tiniest smile. “You know I was never a Girl Scout.”

  He took her in: long, coral-colored skirt hitting her ankles paired with a white tank top with tiny straps which had irked him the entire evening. Those delicate straps had continued to capture his attention throughout the night, begging his fingers to trace over them. To slide them over her shoulder. Bare the breasts he had once put his mou—

  “Can I come in for a minute?” Tate finally spoke, looking at him oddly.

  Shit. He knew better than to let his stray thoughts take over. He blamed it on the late hour since that’s when he was his weakest. When the memories really took hold. It had always been that way.

  Inhaling a fortifying breath, he opened the door wider, his hand making a sweeping gesture. “Please, enter our humble abode, ma’am.”

  He couldn’t help but close his eyes as she stepped past him, removing her sandals onto the mat nearby the door, walking down the hallway leading to the living room. The scent of her, that familiar hint of mango, nearly made him wince. Because he could recall with vivid memory—far too vivid for having been over a decade—pressing kisses down her sternum and inhaling that same sweet scent. He recalled committing it to memory the final night they were together before he’d shipped out to join the Navy.

  Closing the door softly before locking it, he leaned against it with a silent groan. If he had known it would have been the last time with Tate, the last time he would get to taste her, to love her, to be with her like that, he would’ve savored the moment more. Savored her more.

  Giving himself a mental shake to try and get his shit together, he walked down the hallway and saw that she was standing at the sliding glass door, staring out at the glimmering ocean. He came to stand beside her, both of them gazing at the sight before them in silence.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. He turned his head slightly to look at her while her gaze remained on the ocean. His eyes swept over her, the profile of the straight nose, long eyelashes, the delicate lips that he knew were the softest he’d ever kissed. Regardless of their past, one thing hadn’t changed. Which was why he allowed himself the next remark.

  “It always takes my breath away.” His tone subdued, he looked away before her gaze darted to him questioningly. He was allocating that as his one concession, of sorts, for the evening. They stood there in silence for a moment before she spoke.

  “I’m sure they’ve talked to you about how we’re making everyone feel awkward, right?”

  He nodded as they continued standing side-by-side, staring out at the ocean. “Yep.”

  Tate exhaled loudly. “I’ve been thinking. Without getting into the gritty details, I wanted to propose that we try our best to be civil around the others.”

  She turned to face him fully, eyes pleading. “You haven’t known them for very long, but they’re the greatest people I’ve ever known.” Looking down at the floor for a moment before her eyes returned to his, he was taken aback by the slight sheen they had.

  “They’re my family, Miller. They’re all I’ve got. And the last thing I want is to make things difficult for them just because we can’t seem to get our shit together and leave the past in the past.”

  It took him a moment for her words to register, so taken with the emotion in them. “They’re all I’ve got.” That was an odd thing for her to say. Tate had always been extremely close with her parents. They had doted on her, in typical only-child fashion, much like his own mother had.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus, Tate. You don’t ask for much, do you?” A tinge of sarcasm laced his tone. “To pretend we’re all hunky-dory all of a sudden? Like nothing’s happened between us? Like there’s not some serious shit involved?”

  “I know.” Her tone was weary, soft. “But these people are important to me.” Continuing, she added, “These are good people. And they’ve been good to me, been there when I’ve needed them. They really don’t need to be exposed to our … crap.”

  Crap. That’s what she was calling it now? The comment stung like hell. Because he could never consider what had occurred between he and Tate as “crap”. However, he had to recognize that, regardless of his feelings on the matter, she was right. They were dragging their friends—whom he wholeheartedly agreed were truly good people—down with their continuous animosity toward one another.

  Mistaking his silence as protest, she let out a frustrated sound. “Please, Miller. Please. We can do this. We have to.”

  He blew out a long breath, pausing before he finally uttered his quiet answer. “Okay.”

  Her pale blue eyes widened in surprise. “Okay?” Her eyebrows raised as if in disbelief of his acquiescence. “Really?”

  “Really.” He nodded, offering what he knew was a weak smile. Because the truth of the matter was that their friends deserved better. He had to man up and get over the past, over the hurt. He had to move on. It was so fucking overdue as it was.

  Trying for a teasing smile, he said, “That means no more ‘Pass the parmesan, Miles’ comments.”

  Tate gave a sheepish smile and he swore he felt a pinch in his chest at the sight. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll use your real name from now on.” The two of them stood there in the quiet home, a delicate truce formed.

  “I, uh, should head home. It’s pretty late.” She hesitated before saying, “Have a good night,” and turning in the direction of the hallway.

  He couldn’t say what spurred him on, but something made him speak, made him toss out the offer. “I was actually about to have a beer on the deck and check out the moon. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

  Damn it. The underlying hesitance, the slight hint of nervousness in his tone pissed him off. He was Miller Fucking Vaughn. He’d survived multiple deployments to Shitghanistan and Iraq, not to mention crazy ass injuries. He didn’t get nervous or hesitate.

  Ever.

  He could tell he’d caught her off guard with the offer, her slightly parted lips an indication. After a few beats of silence passed, he figured she was trying to form a polite refusal so he thought he’d let her off the hook.

 
“I’m sure you’re tired, so no worries. I just—”

  “Okay.”

  His eyes widened at her softly spoken answer. “Okay?”

  The hesitant smile she gave him reminded him so much of that quiet, beautiful girl back in high school who had caught his eye long before he’d gotten the nerve to approach her.

  “Sure,” she nodded, tilting her head to the side, “but only if you have something to eat.”

  He threw his head back in a laugh. Oh yeah, she was the same old Tate. A bottomless pit. Always eating and still a petite little thing.

  “I’m pretty sure I can scrounge up some food.”

  “Then, I’m game. Let’s get our moon-watching on, Vaughn.”

  And that was how he and Tate Donnelly ended up cementing their truce—with food and moon-watching. It wasn’t until long after she’d left that he had lain in his bed, finally allowing himself to admit that her presence and the easy way of their conversation had been a soothing balm to his heart.

  The same traitorous heart which still ached for her, even after all this time.

  Dear Miller,

  I haven’t heard back from you in a while. How are things going with my soon-to-be badass Navy SEAL boyfriend? It’s probably insanely tough and hectic, right?

  God, I really miss you. I made your favorite brownies down in the kitchen of the commons area of our dorm. It sounds pretty pathetic, I know, but it made me feel closer to you, somehow. Cassie made fun of me, of course. Which, by the way, she said to tell you she actually misses you harassing her. Who knew the day would come when she’d admit that, right?

  Gotta run. I took on another campus tutoring job for extra cash. Okay, that’s a lie. It’s really just to try and stay busy so I don’t get so maudlin with you being gone. It sometimes works. Okay, not really. I just freaking miss you so much.