Nonplussed, Blake stared. Talk about sappy greeting-card fodder.
But sappy or not, maybe the admiral was right. Blake had taken the loss of Phil hard, but he’d never questioned continuing to be a SEAL. He’d never questioned Phil’s dedication to his job. Nor, he recalled, had Phil’s mom.
“The only concern your career would have to my daughter is the secrecy. She’s a stickler for talking. Communicating and all that rot.” The admiral shook his head as if the idea of a couple communicating with each other was bizarre.
It was as if someone had just flicked on a bright light straight into his brain, and Blake blinked with surprise. Not only at the totally accurate insight, but that Pierce actually knew his daughter well enough to make it.
Still... He couldn’t—wouldn’t—change who he was. So secrecy was just as valid a reason as danger to avoid getting hurt... No, he corrected, to avoid hurting Alexia.
“I appreciate you considering me suitable for your daughter,” Blake said, doing a careful verbal tap dance. “But, again, my career is my priority right now. I don’t feel there’s room for a relationship. Sir.”
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