A SEAL's Consent (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 4)

by Cora Seton

  Juggling them all in his arms, he stared helplessly at Wyatt, who was belly crawling across the middle of the floor, evidently intent on reaching the play refrigerator.

  Savannah’s heart overflowed. Why had she ever doubted this man, who obviously cared deeply about all the children placed in his care—even temporarily? Why was she withholding the news of their baby when he had every right to know?

  Hadn’t he proved he meant to ask her to marry him? Hadn’t he shown he was willing to support her career? Maybe ten youngsters were proving too much at the moment, but he’d handle one baby with ease.

  “Jericho,” Savannah began in a rush, her determination to keep her secret until after her audition disappearing into thin air.

  “Get him!” Jericho said.

  “He’s fine,” she assured him, but she picked up Wyatt anyway, who promptly burst into tears at being denied his goal. Savannah hurried to the play refrigerator and soothed him by passing him plastic fruit from inside it. When she looked up again, Jericho had placed Laurie and Sean into the playpens and carried Hugh.

  “Two in the pens, two in our arms,” he stated, and she could tell that solving that problem had relaxed him a bit. It was sweet he was so worried about the situation. Savannah had been around kids enough to know they were tougher than they looked.

  “Jericho, I’ve got something to—”

  Annie chucked a block at Aaron just as Savannah started her explanation again. Aaron bellowed, picked up the block and chucked it back.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Savannah lifted Wyatt up again and stepped in between the two of them, the long skirts of her gown effectively blocking the line of sight between them. “All right; who wants a story?”

  “Me! Me!” The older children thronged around Savannah, pulling on her skirts.

  “Let’s see—what should we read?” Savannah strode to a bookshelf laden with picture books and chose one that looked interesting. Crossing back to the couch, she sat down and was immediately overrun by the toddlers who struggled to sit on her lap, or at least press up as close against her as humanly possible. “Jericho, could you bring the babies?”

  “All of them?”

  “Well, I’ve got Wyatt already,” she said, cuddling the baby boy closer. She could barely open the book for the way the kids had crowded against her, but she managed to do it while Jericho balanced the three other babies in his arms. There wasn’t room on the couch for him, so after a brief look around, he settled on the floor, his back against the couch.

  Once again Savannah’s heart squeezed to see the way he juggled the babies on his lap. Nellie, a sturdy toddler sitting on the couch just behind him, began to play with his hair, threading her little fingers through it and mussing it first one way, and then the other.

  “Hey!” He shot a glance over his shoulder that made Nellie giggle. When he subsided again against the couch with a sigh, she got back to work.

  “There once was an otter named Jake,” Savannah began, and for about thirty seconds the children listened quietly to the story, and a tender feeling she hardly recognized filled her chest. This was lovely. Reading a story surrounded by children—filling their eager minds with new thoughts and ideas—stimulating their curiosity about the world—

  Hugh wrinkled his tiny face into an expression of supreme concentration…

  And filled his diaper loudly.

  “Holy hell!” Jericho sprang to his feet, the other two babies hooked under one arm, and held Hugh as far away from his body as he could.

  “Uh oh.” Savannah was ready to put Wyatt down and take the offending baby from Jericho’s arms, but he moved far too quickly for her.

  In two strides he was across the room. He deposited Sean in one crib, Laurie in another one and whirled around to place Hugh on the changing table in the corner.

  “I can—” Savannah began, trying to extricate herself from the pile of children on the couch, but she stopped in her tracks when Jericho grabbed a fresh diaper, popped several wipes from their container, lay Hugh on his back and got to work changing his diaper, as if he’d performed the action every day of his life.

  Savannah watched openmouthed as he got Hugh undressed, changed and dressed again in the blink of an eye, wrapped up the dirty diaper, scooped up Hugh again and headed into the kitchen. A moment later she heard the back door open and shut.

  Before she could collect herself, she heard him re-enter the kitchen and water run as he washed his hands. When he carried Hugh back into the living room, he picked up Sarah and Laurie, turned around and stopped. “What?”

  “Where did you learn to do that?”

  Busted.

  Did he look guilty? Because he felt guilty—like he’d betrayed knowledge of some secret feminine rite. Jericho cleared his throat. “When I was a kid. Took care of my cousin a lot when our parents were busy.” With their houses side by side, the two families spent a lot of time together. Jericho had many memories of long, drawn-out meals together and nearly nightly card games among the adults. Lots of laughter. Lots of fun.

  Before the accident.

  “Guess you don’t forget,” he said to cover the awkward pause.

  “I guess you don’t. Jericho, look—”

  “Book! Book!” Nellie crowed.

  “Yeah, how about that story? Let’s hear what happened to that otter.” Jericho sat down again and was glad his back faced her. He didn’t want to talk about the past, or see the questions in her eyes. It occurred to him if he was going to make a life with Savannah, he probably should tell her everything that had happened. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep all three babies on his lap. He didn’t feel like discussing Donovan with anyone.

  After a moment, Savannah resumed reading, and Nellie resumed grooming him from her perch on the couch, her tiny fingers tapping over his scalp like she was writing a novel. He supposed if she was, it would be full of sunshine and laughter and joy. He remembered when his life had seemed simple like that. When he’d thought things could be good.

  The first day his aunt Patty had placed baby Donovan in his arms, he’d only been seven years old, but he’d felt grown up as he’d sat on the comfortable couch in his aunt and uncle’s living room and cradled the baby in his arms. It had been summertime, and in between fishing and bike riding and racing around the neighborhood with his friends, he’d spent a lot of time like that; holding Donovan while his aunt did her chores. And then holding him again while his aunt and uncle and parents played their cards at night.

  Kara, his four-year-old sister, had found the whole thing excruciatingly boring and she’d spent that summer causing as much mayhem as a four-year-old could cause.

  Which was a lot.

  “She’s just trying to get your attention. Play with her,” his mother would call from the dining room.

  Jericho did his best, balancing the baby and building blocks into towers for Kara to knock down.

  As the months passed, the job got more challenging when Donovan started to crawl. Like Wyatt and Annie, a rivalry grew up between Kara and Donovan. He’d spent most of his time preventing Kara from “accidentally” stepping on the baby. Or tripping over him. Or dropping things on him.

  “They’re growing up so close it’s a sibling rivalry,” his mother had said. “You have to watch them. That’s what babysitting is all about.”

  Jericho had watched them.

  And watched them.

  To the point his friends stopped making fun of him for babysitting all the time and just accepted it as a fact of life. As years passed, wherever Jericho went he’d be followed by his two shadows—the belligerent Kara, and the eager to please Donovan.

  Most of the time, Jericho hadn’t minded. Kara, for all her headstrong ways, could be a ferocious team-mate when their games called for one. And Donovan was always so happy to see Jericho his face would light up each morning when Jericho and Kara came to fetch him. By the time Jericho was eleven, Kara was seven and Donovan was four, they were inseparable.

  Just
like their parents.

  Nellie tugged Jericho’s hair. “I want a horsey ride.”

  “Shh, honey, the story’s not over,” Savannah said.

  Jericho gently tilted his head away until his hair was free of Nellie’s strong fingers, but as soon as he straightened again, she was back, this time clutching what little there was of it with both fists. “I want a horsey ride!”

  Her demand brought him right back to those early summer days.

  “I want to be the captain!”

  Kara’s seven-year-old voice cleaved the quiet air of a lazy August evening. They were up in the tree house his father and uncle had built earlier that year—a wide, railed platform some ten feet up in the air. This new venue had provided fodder for all kinds of games. Pirate ship was their favorite, and this argument was far from new. As the sun sunk low in the soft summer sky, Jericho had fought to keep his irritation at bay.

  “It’s Donovan’s turn today. You were captain yesterday.”

  Just once he’d have liked to be captain, but like his mother always said, “You’re the oldest, Jericho. It’s up to you to keep the peace.”

  “That’s right; I’m captain!” Donovan, safe on the other side of Jericho, spoke out boldly.

  Kara scowled. “You’re too little to be captain! I’m not taking orders from a shrimp!”

  “You’re the shrimp!”

  “Kara—shut up or go home,” Jericho had ordered. He’d had enough of peacemaking between them. Had had enough of babysitting, to tell the truth. It was one thing at seven to spend every waking moment with your family. At eleven, it was getting old. He knew damn well that Boone, Clay and Walker had ridden their bikes to the movie theater. He was missing out.

  Again.

  “You shut up!” Her indignant tones should have warned him one of Kara’s rages was coming on. Her fits of anger were legendary in the Cook household. “She’ll wear the pants in her marriage,” their aunt was fond of saying.

  “Make me!”

  “Jericho, can I—?”

  Jericho would never know what might have happened if he hadn’t turned to answer Donovan’s question. Would he have seen Kara coming? Could he have stopped her? Braced himself? Warded her off?

  It didn’t matter.

  What was done, was done.

  “I’ll give you a horsey ride later, honey,” he said to Nellie, refusing to dwell on the past anymore. “Let’s listen to the story.”

  “You’re a bad horsey.” But Nellie listened through the rest of the story.

  When it was over, Savannah said, “Jericho, there’s something I really—”

  “Horsey ride! Horsey ride!” Nellie’s strident tones made it impossible to hear Savannah. Jericho handed Savannah one of the babies and put the other two in their playpens, thinking he would give Nellie a short ride and quickly get back to them.

  He’d forgotten the allure of a horsey ride as far as toddlers were concerned. Forty-five minutes later he was still pacing the living room on all fours and neighing, much to the delight of the kids. Savannah was riding herd on the babies as far from the chaos of the horsey rides as she could. She didn’t look too happy with the situation, and Jericho wondered if she was tiring of the job. He thought he understood. Savannah was a career woman, not a homebody. She might like to cuddle a baby now and then, but she didn’t want to devote her life to caring for kids.

  That was fine with him, he told himself, pushing down the voice that said that maybe, someday—

  When the Halls finally arrived home triumphantly, sweeping Ella and her baby into the house, Jericho had never been more relieved. He’d had fun, but ten kids were a handful.

  “Don’t know how you do it,” he confessed to Mason when the children were reunited with their parents.

  “It’s easier when they’re family,” Mason said. He smiled at Savannah when she came to stand at Jericho’s side. “Thanks to both of you. We appreciate it. Our little horde isn’t easy to tame.”

  “The kids were great, right, Jericho?” Savannah asked—as if she hadn’t been frantically chasing after babies all this time.

  “Yeah. Great,” Jericho echoed.

  “Just wait until you have some of your own. You’ll see,” Mason said with the complacency of a satisfied father.

  Jericho laughed. “Not going to happen, man. If there’s one thing I know for sure, I’m never having kids.”

  Was she smiling? Savannah hoped she was smiling—even though her heart was breaking in two. Jericho’s words played in a loop over and over again in her mind, drowning out everything else.

  Never having kids.

  If the situation wasn’t so awful she would have laughed. Never having kids?

  How about having one in less than six short months? Thank God she’d been interrupted every time she’d tried to tell Jericho about the baby. She had no idea what she was going to do now.

  Raise her child on her own?

  “Want to stay and celebrate Ella’s homecoming?” Regan asked her.

  “Uh… we can’t,” Savannah managed to croak. “I’ve got… a thing. Back at Westfield. With the others. To… plan.”

  “You’ve got guests coming?”

  Savannah stared at her blankly until she remembered the B&B. “Yes… soon. Lots to do.”

  She knew she was babbling. Their next guests weren’t due until October. Mason was studying her. Regan’s brows furrowed.

  “Oh… okay. Well, come back anytime.”

  “That’s right—any time,” Mason echoed. “By the way, who’s the next to get hitched over at Base Camp? Have you men drawn straws yet?”

  Regan gave her husband a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. Savannah wanted to sink into the ground. Jericho jammed his hands in his pockets. “Uh… yeah. We’ve drawn straws. It’s… me.”

  “Oh. Hell, I’m sorry; that was awkward.” But Mason was chuckling. “Well… good luck with that.”

  Savannah turned toward the door. She didn’t know what else to do. “See you soon,” she called back, struggling to keep her voice even.

  “See you,” Regan answered feebly.

  Regan had to know how uncomfortable that conversation had been. She probably felt badly for what her husband had said. Savannah was sorry for that, but she couldn’t stand around and pretend her world hadn’t collapsed around her. Jericho wasn’t going to have kids—ever.

  Except he was.

  He needed to know that. She needed to tell him.

  Now. On the ride home—before they were back under the scrutiny of the cameras.

  But she couldn’t seem to find the words, and Jericho didn’t give her a chance. When they reached the two-lane highway in the truck, he said, “Look, I know what’s going on.”

  Savannah panicked. She wasn’t ready for this confrontation, no matter how hard she’d tried to convince herself she was. She wanted to go home, shut herself in her room at the manor and cry—or better yet, scream.

  Now she knew she would face her future alone. And she had no idea how she’d do it. She wasn’t ready to be a single mother. Not now.

  Not—ever.

  “You’re uncomfortable because I drew the short straw yesterday morning. You know I have to marry in forty days—and you’re wondering if I’m going to propose.”

  She nearly laughed. Of course she’d wondered those very things, but that was before she’d found out he didn’t want a child. He’d better not propose now—because she couldn’t say yes. Not if he didn’t want their baby.

  It was bad enough her parents had always been disappointed in her. They’d made no bones when she met Charles that he was the answer to their prayers—the child they’d wished she was.

  This was worse. Jericho didn’t want a child at all.

  Savannah didn’t think she could stand that.

  “When you found out about Fulsom, the television show and the demands we had to meet, you were angry. I get that. But since then I feel like we’ve…well, made progress, I guess you could say.” Jerich
o kept his eyes on the road. “You know what I’m offering you. What life is like at Base Camp. Curtis and Clay are building my tiny house as we speak. Once I’ve set up the community’s energy grid I’ll be in charge of maintaining it, and I’ll probably build a business consulting with other communities that need a similar system. You won’t have to worry about helping me. You can focus on your career one hundred percent and pursue it as far as it takes you. I’ll applaud you all the way.”

  Jericho sent her a smile, and Savannah fought to blink back the tears from her eyes. He was saying everything she’d wanted to hear. But he wasn’t saying the one thing she needed to hear.

  “What about… kids?” She managed to say the word clearly. “Fulsom’s demands.” As if that’s what she was worried about.

  “There are nine other men willing to get that job done,” Jericho assured her. “You and I—we don’t have time for that. You, especially. You need to get out there and grab that career you want. You need to be up on stage with everyone cheering you on. Can you imagine that? Playing to a packed house?”

  Savannah imagined it, just like she’d imagined it so many times before. Standing on stage. Receiving her ovation. Her parents applauding her more than anyone else.

  But this time the vision took a different turn.

  There was her baby in one of the aisles, crawling toward the exit, Jericho nowhere in sight. With the performance over, the crowd streamed from the seats as she watched helplessly.

  The aisles were overrun, her baby lost from sight.

  He’d be trampled—

  Hurt—

  “No!”

  Jericho hit the brakes and Savannah’s body snapped against the taut seat belt.

  “What? Where—”

  A truck rolled past them, blaring its horn. With a curse, Jericho pulled to the side of the road and parked.

  “What’s wrong? Did you see something in the road?”

  Savannah covered her face with her hands. She wanted to jump from the vehicle and race across the fields to dispel the vision that had seemed all too real a moment ago.