Two Weeks With a SEAL: Book 1 The Wakefield Romance Series

By Theresa Marguerite Hewitt

Her life isn't glamorous, but Rhea Griggs does her best.
In her small town of Wakefield, Virginia she lives the life she has been given, but loving your older brother's best friend is always a gamble. For Rhea, it's an unspoken truth.
Chad Payne is a sailor, a SEAL, and he loves his job, but the danger and unknowing is starting to weigh on his heart and soul. He's ready to settle down, but confessing his love for his best friend's little sister is easier said than done.
When heartbreak and loss find Rhea, Chad knows it's now or never.
Is two weeks enough for them to share the love of a lifetime? To mend two hearts into one? Can Rhea handle what comes with loving a SEAL?

Contains rowdy country fun, heart warming love and one heart wrenching farewell that will leave you speechless.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theresa Marguerite Hewitt
• Release date: Jan 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301793648

Theresa Marguerite Hewitt

I grew up in a very small town in Central New York, and i mean so small if you blinked you missed it. I learned to love everything small town and I miss it everyday I'm away. I recieved my Bachelors Degree in Paralegal Studies in 2009, but have been resigned to working retail. There I met my best friend who re-ignited my passion for all things paranormal. Putting pieces together from stories I had written in childhood, I came up with my first short book, Siofra's Song. From there I've gone wild with Siofra's world and expanded into contemporary romance. My Wakefield Romance series centers around a small town in Virginia and women who fall in love with Navy SEALs and the struggles they go through to be together. In the near future I will also be expanding into historical romance with my Viking Dreams Series. I hope you like them and follow me on Twitter and join my Facebook page!

Book preview

Two Weeks With A SEAL

Book 1 in the Wakefield Romance Series

By:

Theresa Marguerite Hewitt

Published by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt at Smashwords

Copyright © 2013 Theresa Marguerite Hewitt

Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading/purchasing this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

To my readers:

I just want to thank every one of you for taking the time to help build my dream. To all my co-workers and friends who endured my endless and sometimes incoherent babble about my characters, thank you very much; being able to vent and talk about ideas makes them grow and expand. To my friend and 'editor' SB- you're da bomb!

Most of all, to all those who are serving, have served, or are married/in a relationship with someone who has been in the Armed Services, no matter what branch; this one is for you. I've tried to make this first part of Rhea and Chad's story as real as possible by pulling on some experiences I and others I know have gone through.

I hope you enjoy Book 1 of the Wakefield Romance Series, and thank you for supporting Self publishers.--TMH

PROLOGUE:

I can’t believe it. It is actually snowing. I have lived in Wakefield, Virginia all my life and have only seen it snow a handful of times and of all the days, it decided to snow today. Today is the day I am saying goodbye to my mom. The day after Christmas, and two days after my twenty-fifth birthday, and here I am burying my mom. Kind of a huge downer, right? I try not to let the tears well in my eyes, but I can feel them there as I look out the glass sliding back door of our double-wide trailer, my fingers resting on the cold glass.

See, my family is far from perfect, and now I am the only member left. Well, my Uncle Rick is still alive, but I don't give a flying fuck where he is—you'll see why.

My family, the Griggs family of Wakefield, Virginia, have been upon the topics of gossip pretty much my whole life, and I know my name will be on the tip of people's tongues today as well. Our downfall, at least in my eyes, started in October of 1992. It’s funny how I remember the date, the image of what I had seen still burned in my retinas. The yells and whispers that came in the years following still echo in my mind at night.

My dad, Robbert Griggs, is a tough man, raised by the whip and other traditional Southern values. He is a big man, standing six foot five, his thick arms and legs making him look even more like a giant, and his large hands could easily palm anything. I remember being a tiny girl, wrapping my arms around his leg. He used to walk around with me like that, finally having to tickle me to get me off, and then swinging me above his head. His dark brown hair was always kept pretty short; his beard growing long in the winter, and his grey eyes looking like storm clouds when he was mad. October of 1992 brought that man that I had thought of as this great sense of strength, down to nothing but a nightmare in my book.

My older brother, Randy, had walked me home from the elementary school that day. The leaves had been all over the ground, but it was still pretty warm out because I remember that Randy was wearing shorts. We had walked into the house, and I remember strange noises coming from the living room, and I ran—like every five year old girl would—to investigate. Being so young, I didn't really understand what I was seeing. But Randy was ten, and he knew a little more of the world than I did. He tried to cover my eyes, yelling at my father as he dragged me from the house.

We had interrupted my dad and his mistress, having sex on our family room couch. Randy ran across our road, dragging me crying behind him, to our neighbor Ms. Tillman, and he had called our mother at work. Sometimes is still seems unreal, and there have been countless times when I wished that is was. Maybe my life would’ve turned out different, and I wouldn’t be standing here, wishing my mother was healthy and happy and standing beside me.

I would learn later in life that my dad’s 'mistress' was really a hooker, and that my dad paid her in drugs. This man that I had thought of as an awesome giant filled with love, was, in fact, a dirty drug dealer and manufacturer, brought into the game by his brother; my Uncle Rick.

My mom threw him out of the house, making a huge scene to the point where the police had to be called; hauling my dad and some of his clothing away in one of their patrol cars. It wasn't the last time that I saw my father, though. Oh no, the last time will forever be burned in my memory every time I watch a television show or movie that has a situation where a man slaps a woman.

It had been past our bedtime, on a school night. Randy was in his room, and I was in mine, with only the light sounds of our mom doing her before bedtime routine of shutting lights off and locking doors echoing slightly throughout our homey double-wide. We were happy, content even, in our meager lives. Randy and I wanted for nothing, and our mother showered us with love.

The snapping of the door frame is what brought me out of bed. The screams of my mom bringing tears to my eyes as I raced to my bedroom door, only to be intercepted by Randy, pushing me back in and shutting the door behind him; dragging me into my closet. Randy's grey eyes were so much like my father's, watering as he told me to be quiet and putting his hand over my mouth as the slapping sounds bounced off of the walls.

My dad's voice was loud and harsh, calling her a 'bitch' and a 'no good whore' as the fist to flesh sounds filled the night air. Randy's hand was tight to my mouth as we huddled together, both with tears streaming down our cheeks.

Stay here, he had whispered to me. My five year old mind panicked, telling him no, grabbing at his legs as he shut the closet door behind him. He shoved a chair up against it so I couldn't follow him, as I put my little hands up to the slanted panels of the door.

I stayed in that closet, my arms wrapped around my legs, pulling them close. My tears drowned in my knees until Randy came back to get me, his face all red from the back of my dad's hand. By that time, the cops were there, the red and blue flashers coming through the front windows as Randy held my hand and led me out into the living room.

Our mother's best friend since high school, and my best friend’s mom, Cindy Byrd, took us in, ushering us away as our mother was loaded into an ambulance, and our father into the back of a patrol car. My mom spent three weeks in the hospital, coming home with a cast on her right arm and bruises all over her face and body. My dad spent a year in jail. His collect calls haunted my mom whenever she picked up the phone to hear that automated message from the Greensville Correctional Facility in nearby Jarratt, Virginia.

My mom, Ruth Griggs, did an awesome job at bringing us back together as a family; purging our home of pictures and items that reminded us of that bastard. He showed up every now and then at school, looming outside to try and talk to me and Randy, but he was shooed away by the teachers. In 1995, we read in the local paper that he had been arrested in a huge ATF raid, charged with multiple counts of possession and the manufacturing of methamphetamines. He was sentenced to twenty years in prison, returning to Greensville, where he still tries to call collect and sends Christmas/Birthday cards every year, addressed only to me: Rhea Noel Griggs.

After that, it was like a dark cloud had been lifted off of my mother's heart. She blossomed into a new woman, growing a back bone and even dating every now and then. She was super active in our childhood, watching every football, baseball, and track meet for Randy, and every basketball and softball game for me. Randy was five years older than me, so when he graduated it was a huge tear jerker for my mom, especially since he had decided to enlist in the Navy with his best friend, Chadwick [Chad] Payne, who I have been unashamedly in love with since I was five years old.

My brother Randy was six foot three, his light brown hair a mix of our father's dark brown and our mother's dirty blonde, always kept buzzed close to his skull. I was only thirteen when he and Chad had enlisted, and like every girl who has an over protective older brother, I was kind of glad to have him out of my life.

Our country had just declared war on terrorism, so, yes, it was scary, but I was young and I wanted to spread my wings without having an older brother hover over me at all times. I was saying goodbye to him at the recruiter’s office, I cried more for Chad than I did for Randy, both of them hugging everyone. I loved my brother, and had told him that for the first time in years as he hugged me that day, a wide smile causing his dimples to show as he grinned down at me. He had winked and waved at me as Chad and he walked to the travel van bound for the airport, and I'll admit I ran and jumped up into the bed of our old Chevy just to wave one last time as they turned out of the parking lot. I swear that Chad had winked at me, both him and Randy waving as they disappeared.

I ran wild at home with Randy gone, my best friend Kendall Byrd and I becoming two little hellions. While my brother and Chad spent a year going through Navy SEAL training, Kendall and I had our first kisses and first 'boyfriends'—mending each other's broken hearts when we realized both guys were only interested in one thing, and dumped us when we wouldn't give it up.

Another eighteen months brought the ceremony where Chad and Randy were issued their Navy SEAL Trident insignias, both being assigned to SEAL Team 10, based out of nearby Norfolk, Virginia, and their first deployment overseas. Over the following three years, Randy and Chad only came home a few times. My mom and I took the little over an hour drive more than a handful of times, visiting with them for a few hours at a time.

I graduated high school with honors in 2005, attending The College of William and Mary and majoring in Pre-Law; my dreams of becoming a lawyer in my sights. My first semester was great. Returning home for Christmas, I gushed about all of my new friends to Randy when he came home, dressed in his camouflage and utility boots. A party thrown by some of Randy's high school friends brought everyone in our age group together, the cliques realigning themselves as if we had never been separated. The alcohol flowing freely.

Randy had assigned Chad to be my 'babysitter', having him hover at a distance to make sure I didn't drink too much since I was still underage, and I noticed for the first time that Chad actually paid attention to me. That night, in the basement of local beauty queen Heather Rachel's house, I lost my virginity to Chad in a flurry of kisses and muttered un-meaningful 'I love you’s'. We had been drunk, and it had happened… not that it dampened the undying love that I had for the irresistible man. I still remember exactly what we both were wearing that night, the way his lips had felt against my skin, and the way my hands had shaken when I touched him. I wished every night that I had had the guts to tell him what I said was real for me; that I really loved him.

I was a new woman after that Christmas, focusing in on my education and graduating in the spring of 2009 with a perfect 4.0 GPA. Taking my LSAT in the summer of 2009, I was elated when I passed with an abnormally high score of 165. And being accepted to The William and Mary Law School was only icing on the cake.

That first year of law school was challenging, making it so that I only got home a few times, and making time for boyfriends all but impossible, which effectively ended a year and a half long relationship that I had had with a classmate. Randy and Chad were deployed in late February, their tour planning on coming to an end in July; so when June rolled around my mother and I were planning a big welcome home party, along with Chad’s mom, Dana. We had never prepared ourselves for the phone call that brought the notification of Randy’s death.

On June 25th, 2010, we buried Randy beside my grandfather, Tracy Brunson, in Spratley Cemetery; the white cross head stone standing out like a sore thumb amongst the dark grey ones. Taps was played, guns fired, prayers read, all with my mother sitting beside me, crying endlessly for her son. Chad stood with the other members of SEAL Team 10, all in their dress uniforms, their Commander going to hand the folded flag to my mother.

He saw that she wasn’t emotionally ready for it, so, turning to me, he said, With my utmost condolences, and I nodded my head, accepting the flag and hugging it to my chest while he continued the normal condolences speech. At two o’clock the next morning I made love with Chad for the second time; the murmured meaningless ‘I love you’s’ mixed with his tearful ‘I’m sorry’s’. It made me love him even more. As he lay sleeping beside me, I poured my heart out to him in whispers, telling him everything I had ever felt for him, knowing he wouldn’t be the wiser in the morning.

Since that day, my mother had been a broken shell of herself, becoming a ghost of her once beautiful care-free soul. She rarely left the house, except to go to the local liquor store. I had to drop out of Law school to help pay the bills, working a seven to five job at Victoria’s Secret in the Patrick Henry Mall—an hour away—as Assistant Manager. The doctors prescribed her anti-depressants, and at first they seemed to help, but then she started to drink again and skip on taking her pills.

Her longtime friend, and Chad’s mother, Dana Payne, had tried to help, but my mother never tried to help herself. My only saving grace was Dana and my Sunday dinners with her at her home that Chad had purchased for her; dinners which we had done since I was sixteen. After Randy’s death, my mother always used the excuse that she was too tired to go, so it was just Dana and me, and sometimes Chad, via webcam.

I work Monday through Thursday at Victoria’s Secret, driving home to work nine to two at the local hot-spot bar, Muncy’s Pub, on Thursday through Saturday. It’s the place where everyone in town gathers to drink away their weekly stress, gossip about others, and hit on each other. Kendall tends bar with me, whereas her day job is managing and styling at her mom’s salon.

Coming home from the bar at two in the morning to find my mom face down on the living room floor was horrible, the blood coming from her nose and ears making it worse. She was cold and had no pulse, and I had vomited in the bushes outside the front door as I waited in the cold night for the ambulance. The coroner had showed up only seconds before Dana Payne, the flashing lights of the ambulance reminding me of the night my father had beaten my mom. My mom had suffered a brain hemorrhage; the combination of Prozac, Oxycontin, and alcohol in her system creating a deadly cocktail.

I had her cremated, as per her request. I spent my birthday and Christmas day in a zombie like haze, surrounded by friends. I didn’t want to feel. I want my mother back, I want her healthy and smiling and baking her famous cinnamon buns on Sunday morning. I can’t have that anymore because she’s gone, but I have my friends and my other ‘mom’, Dana, who is an angel. She has saved me, along with Kendall’s help.

You ready, comes Kendall’s soft voice, snapping me from my daydreaming into the snow.

Turning, I see that she looks great; her tall thin figure adorned in black pants and a red silk shirt. I’m wearing a red sweater dress, and have asked those attending the service to wear the color as well, because my mother loved the color red and I know she wouldn’t want us wearing all black, since black is boring—according to her. Tears well in my eyes again, and I smile at Kendall, nodding my head slightly as I grab my jacket from the back of the couch and pull it on.

As ready as I’ll ever be, I say. Kendall gives me a sweet smile and places her hands on my shoulders. She is so beautiful—her long blonde hair straight as always, hanging to the middle of her back. Her tanned skin works well with her light brown eyes, her makeup accentuating both. As always, she’s in heels, and I notice that her nails are done with white tips as I weave my fingers into hers and lock up my front door, the large wet snowflakes pelting the side of my face. Getting into the passenger seat of Dana’s brand new Chevy Malibu, I accept a one armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. A tear escapes as I try to smile at her.

Grabbing my hand, she gives me a second to compose myself as I wipe at my cheeks. You’ll be okay, Honey, she says, and I can see tears on the edge of her lashes, her bright blue eyes irritated red.

I nod my head, wiping at my cheeks. But, the tears continue to flow down as we turn out of my driveway. Our destination is the Spratley Cemetery. There are a number of people already here, all dressed in either all black, or black and red; it makes me smile a little, knowing they loved her as well. Songs are played, prayers are issued, and roses are laid; all while the snow falls down on our little Virginia town, covering the ground.

Everyone is leaving, while the grounds keepers are lowering my mother’s ashes into the hole beneath her headstone, because I have no reason to keep them. I just stand there, my face down turned, looking at my feet.

I don’t care what people think of me any longer, so I let the tears stream down my cheeks; the sniffles filling my chest as I scrub at my face with the sleeve of my jacket. Putting my left hand on the top of Randy’s head stone, over the Navy SEAL Trident, and my right hand on the edge of my mother’s rose colored stone, I turn my face to the sky, letting the snow melt on my skin.

I miss you so much, I whisper, squeezing my fingers around the cold stones. Kissing each set of my fingers, I press them back to the stones. I love you, I issue, turning and leaving them—holding my head high.

CHAPTER ONE:

Three weeks later: January 16, 2012

Ugghhh, I mumble to myself, alone in my little office in the back room of the Victoria's Secret store that I work at. The door is cracked open. The plaque stating 'Rhea Griggs-Asst. Manager' is hanging on by one nail and slightly swinging in the breeze that always comes in through the stock room. I rub my hand across my forehead, frustrated beyond belief at the mess that our new cash office manager has left me with; calling in sick today, of all days.

It has been three weeks since I buried my mom, and today is my first day back at work. Our manager wasn't due in for another three hours, making me sigh deeply again. It is a good thing that I have some people I can trust manning the front of the store, because if I had to keep going out there for little things, I'd probably have a mental breakdown.

I slam the books shut, pushing them across my desk to sit up against the pink cement wall. I'm not a big pink person, but again, I work at Victoria's Secret; pink comes with the job. Leaning back in my overly squeaky roller chair, I rock back and forth, tapping my pen on my computer keyboard.

Running my hands over my black dress pants, I resolve to go get some lunch and tackle the books after I've had some food.

Ray? The loud crackle of the pager on my phone breaks the eerie silence, making me jump a little in my seat as I reach to pick up the receiver.

Yeah, Shannie? I say, the astonishment notable in my voice, and I hear the cashier giggle to herself.

There's a woman on line one for you. The giggles are still mingling with her words, and it makes me smile at how fast my heart is still beating from the slight shock.

Okay. I laugh to myself, hanging up with her and pausing for a second to compose myself. Normally I had the radio on back here, the volume low, tuned into the local country station, but today I had been too frazzled by the call from the cash office woman, so I guess I had forgot to turn it on. I flick the switch to my small red clock radio on, turning the volume to a light tone, and putting the phone back to my ear. Maybe next time they page me, the white noise of the radio will keep me from having a heart attack.

Thank you for calling the Patrick Henry Mall Victoria's Secret, this is Rhea, how can I help you? The greeting rolls off of my tongue, having to answer it the same way every time in case it was a big-wig in the company, because I wouldn't want to piss anyone off today.

Ray? Dana Payne's voice comes through the phone, excitement plain and simple in her tone, which brings a welcome smile to my lips. I owe that woman a lot; she has been there to help me through everything I have gone through in the last year when my mother was too depressed to.

Hey Dana, what's up? Her good vibes seem to flow through the phone, because I feel better already, and I lean my elbows on the edge of my desk top.

Chad's comin' home for two weeks today! The giddiness was overflowing, her happy little giggles spilling out.

I’m shocked. My heart starts beating fast, like it did every time someone mentioned Chad's name. My mouth goes as dry as the Mojave Desert, and I can’t seem to find any words. Pictures flood my mind of the two times he and I have had sex.

The look of his body, the feel of his touch, the taste of his lips… it all makes my palms sweaty and my legs tremble. Gripping the phone tighter to my ear, I realize she’s still talking to me. Shaking my head, trying to clear my focus, I can’t help the wave of heat rolling over me.

Can you come over tonight and have dinner with us? I'm gonna make his favorite roast chicken, she asks, hopefulness in her plea.

Ah, um, I mumble, not sure at first if I am emotionally ready to see this man that I am in love with, but I resolve. Of course. I'll be there around six-thirty. Is that okay? My mind races at what I am going to change into when I race the hour car drive home from work at five; my fingers tapping nervously on the metal top of my desk. It’s a silly thing to worry about, but I love the man, and I want to look good for him.

Of course, Honey, she says, and I can swear if she was standing before me, she'd have a sly smile on her lips. I know she can probably sense that I'm holding a candle for Chad; a very long burning, triple wicked candle. ‘Mothers can always tell when their children are in love’, is what my mom use to say, and I was hoping in that minute that Dana was blind to this notion. I'll see you then.

Okay, see you then, I reply, hanging the phone up after I hear the ending click on her side. Great, I mumble to myself, hanging my head in my hands, my legs shaking nervously like they always do when I’m anxious. I really need to eat something now before I start to dry heave from my nerves getting the best of me. It had been a year and a half since I had seen Chad, but it feels like his touch still lingers on my skin; the smell of his aftershave coming to my senses.

Chadwick is six foot three, his muscular build only growing after he and Randy had joined the Navy. He has broad shoulders and massive arms, a defined chest, chiseled abs, and muscular legs. Closing my eyes, I can see his light blue ones staring back at me; his sexy crooked smile on his lips.

His brown hair, that is streaked with grey, naturally wavy and hitting just above his shoulders when down, is almost always pulled back into a short ponytail at the back of his skull. His answer to why he keeps his hair longer is that his team needed someone to play the 'badass redneck', so it would be him. His facial hair is scruffy, dotted with grey as well, and it had tickled my skin as he kissed my neck the last time we had seen each other. The thought of it makes delightful little shivers run through my body.

He has the slight southern drawl that everyone carries in their voice around here, his tone smooth and slightly deep. He has the tendency to use dip, Skoal Wintergreen pouches as his poison, but he knew to get rid of it every time I was around. His Pepsi spit can would disappear and he would hide away to rinse his mouth out, knowing how much I despised the idea of kissing someone with chew in their mouth.

He also despised the guy who had always had his eyes on me, local bad boy, Duke Orr. Hopefully Duke won't show up at my house tonight like he had the last couple of nights; drunk and wanting to come in. I’ve had to call his friend, Harlan Dow, to come get him, pulling

Reviews for Two Weeks With a SEAL

[funstm · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

This was terrible. It was over the top and ridiculous dramatic. And it was long and boring. It was a real struggle to finish. Rhea was an idiot. Duke (ex-boyfriend/stalker) was an ass. And I didn't really like Chad. So story sucked. 1 star.