Flash Bang: A Summit Seduction SEAL Novel (The Summit Seduction SEAL Duet Book 1) Rachel Robinson (grave mercy .txt) 📖

when an old-school jam comes on. “Dance tonight and contemplate life choices tomorrow,” she calls out.

I’m too drunk to dance. A realization that is quite embarrassing, so I sit quietly, with my racing, jumbled thoughts, and stew. Ramona is right about this being my second chance, but I don’t know if it overrides all of my hesitations—if I want it to.

“I’m still going to the horse ranch,” I announce. Except through my slurred speech is comes out like whore ranch, and Ramona and Aspen both break out into laughter. I correct myself but the damage is done, so I pour myself more wine and swagger to the table that is charging my phone and pick it up.

Let them dance and make fun of my drunkenness. There’s a missed text from Lincoln checking in on me. I send him back a series of alcoholic drink emojis and a heart, then I grab my phone and take it into a spare bedroom I use as an office. That’s a generous term. It’s more of a cozy cabin reading space that has my desk and filing cabinet. I switch on the gas fireplace and plop down on an oversized, furry beanbag in front of the window wall. The soft white coat of snow on the ground lights up the night.

The sky looks lighter than it actually is, and all the glittering evergreens are illuminated. Sighing, I admire it for a few moments before turning my attention to my phone and the social media apps I usually ignore. After scrolling my timeline and liking a few photos posted by my friends and former colleagues in Cape Cod, I open my inbox and catch up on messages I didn’t even know were there. In the other inbox, where messages go to die there’s a new message from a name I don’t recognize.

“What do you want, Aria Anderson?”

Hey Maeve,

I hope this isn’t going to be weird, but I found your name listed when I took one of those DNA profile tests. It looks like we’re cousins! If you don’t have any interest in communicating with a perfect stranger (but also someone who you share DNA with) I totally get it. It’s just cool to compare notes. Hit me back if you want to chat.

In the weirdest time to be related to strangers,

Aria Anderson (A non-creepy person who happens to be interested in genealogy who also has connections to the DNA company we used for our panel)

The mistake is evident as soon as I read her first sentence. I must have agreed to list my results in their database. The website pings family members when DNA matches occur. Which, technically, is fine because it’s not like I’m a serial killer who wants to hide my DNA because I’m leaving evidence in strange places. It’s also super weird and not something I’d ever choose to entertain. I’m drunk now and I blame it on the alcohol almost completely. I pull up my results on the website and see her name now listed under the genealogy section. First cousins. Indeed at least fractionally interesting for an orphan. A quick perusal of her profile shows most of her info is locked down and not available to non-friends.

I message her back:

Aria,

This is pretty weird, I won’t lie, but I’m also intrigued. I must have clicked the button to enter my info into the matching database on accident. Where do you live? Are you connected to any other family members? I wonder how we’re connected. It would be fun to figure out if it’s maternal or paternal side.

Yours in genealogy,

Maeve Ahern

I send her a friend request so her reply goes to my inbox and I’ll see it quicker and make a mental note to check social media more than I usually do. This could be a can of worms, but also, this could be pretty spectacular for a woman without a single blood relative to her name. I know that blood doesn’t make a family. I also know that oftentimes it’s blood that forces rash, bad decisions. The siren call is too loud to ignore, though. Excitement bubbles into the forefront of my mind as I finish off my wine and think about the possibilities. The music blares from down the hallway, but it doesn’t stop me from dozing off, mentally drained from… everything.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LINCOLN

They’re in the horse ring, Turner sitting on top of a large brown horse, with Maeve holding the reins, guiding him around the large sandy circle. I’m leaning on a fence, watching because Turner wanted her instead of me. Admiring is the better word because I’ve never seen my son light up so much around anyone other than me or Mom. I try not to let Maeve know how happy it makes me to see them together, but hiding it is harder than I imagined. Turner waves with one hand when they round a corner and he sees me. I throw my big hand in the air and prop a boot on the fence.

Maeve’s jeans are so tight I can picture her naked curve for curve. It doesn’t help that it’s an impossibility to fall asleep and not dream about her. Most of the time we’re fucking, but sometimes I’m just watching her from afar, too afraid to speak to her for fear she’ll vanish into thin air. I wake up thinking the same thing every time. Wishing I was still sleeping.

Macho perches next to me. “Think he’ll want to go see the dogs next? We have some puppies right now.”

I nod. “This place is unreal, man. Congrats. I knew you were farming our Team’s awesome dogs, but had no idea the extent of this operation.” It’s like some boujee, sprawling New England estate, except it’s in the mountains with a ranch attached. It’s impressive by any standards. I could live here happily forever, and I realize that Macho made his dreams a reality.

He chuckles under his breath. “Trying to help out wherever I can. I