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

by Cora Seton

  She knew what her subconscious was trying to say to her: how could she care for her child and pursue such a vigorous career—one that would take her away from home, all over the country? She couldn’t—not without Jericho’s help.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… thought I…”

  “Savannah, I might as well say this now.” He turned in his seat. “You know I have to marry in forty days. You know I want—”

  Savannah closed her eyes and leaned back, defeated. A tear trickled down her cheek. He was proposing—and she couldn’t say yes.

  Jericho broke off. “Are you getting sick?” He reached out to lay his palm on her forehead. Savannah swallowed. His touch still affected her too much, despite what he’d said earlier. Jericho was perfect for her in every way—except this one. That’s why it’d be so hard to let him go.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I think I need to lie down.” She kept her eyes closed—unwilling to look at the man who was breaking her heart.

  A moment passed before he turned the key in the ignition. As the truck’s engine fired up again, Jericho checked for traffic before pulling back onto the road. “It’s all those babies,” he said darkly. “They’ll get you every time.”

  Chapter Three

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  When Jericho dropped Savannah off at the manor, she climbed out of the truck without another word and trailed into the house dejectedly. Jericho wasn’t sure what was wrong. She’d had plenty of energy back at Crescent Hall, but as soon as everyone had come home from the hospital, she’d clammed right up. He’d wanted to follow her into the house, but his gut told him to give her space. Maybe she was simply worn out.

  He had just pulled in to park near the bunkhouse when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “Jericho here,” he said when he’d pulled it out and accepted the call.

  “It’s Kara. You going to Mom and Dad’s anniversary dinner tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” He’d already let his mother know that. He wasn’t looking forward to it, though. During his time back in Chance Creek, he’d already sat through two stilted family meals. He figured after the anniversary dinner, he’d have a word with his mom and let her know she could stop trying to bring the family together again.

  Too much water under the bridge. Too many memories none of them savored.

  “Just making sure. You have a way of letting them down, you know. It’d be nice of you to show up.”

  He pulled the phone away from his face and stared at it a moment. Putting it back to his ear, he said, “You gotta be kidding.”

  “Like hell I am. Don’t disappoint them.”

  Jericho burned with resentment. Of course he’d show up.

  “And bring a gift this time. Flowers. Something like that.”

  He clutched the phone so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “I’ll grab a bottle of wine.”

  The silence at the other end of the line stretched so long Jericho thought she’d hung up. “Jesus. You’re the one who’s got to be kidding. Jericho—you know they don’t drink, right? Haven’t in years.”

  “Since when?” They’d always drunk. Every childhood memory he had included a bottle of wine or two. At least it had before his aunt and uncle had moved away. After that his parents didn’t celebrate very much.

  “Since… a couple of years ago. They joined AA.”

  Now he was the one with nothing to say. “Then why didn’t they say something?” he finally sputtered. He’d been sending those bottles of wine forever. Practically ever since he joined up. He’d thought about the quiet household he’d finally escaped and thought a little good cheer could brighten things up—just like in the old days.

  His parents didn’t drink?

  He remembered those two strained meals since he’d been back in Chance Creek. Each time his mom had made a big fuss over whether he wanted iced tea or lemonade. It had been summer, they’d served barbecue and, in truth, he’d thought they were avoiding serving alcohol while Kara was present. His sister’s moods were volatile no matter the circumstances—and alcohol never helped the situation. It had never occurred to him they’d finally stopped drinking themselves.

  “Bring something else this time,” Kara said.

  “Sure.” Movement in his peripheral vision brought Jericho’s head up. Boone was approaching the truck. “Gotta go. See you tomorrow night.” He ended the call before Kara could answer. He’d have to mull over what she’d said later; he didn’t have time now. Didn’t have time to think about Savannah’s tears, either. Hell, he’d practically proposed to her and she’d started crying. What was he supposed to make of that?

  Reluctantly, he climbed out of the truck and nodded to Boone. “Everything all right?”

  “With Base Camp? Yeah, it’s all fine.” But Boone looked worried about something. Jericho waited. “It’s Riley,” Boone admitted finally. “She’s not pregnant yet. And we’ve been trying—lots.” He shook his head. “Don’t want to dump this on you. Just don’t know who else—”

  “You can talk to me,” Jericho assured him, but he wished the topic was different. He’d thought about babies far too much recently, and he’d seen Mason’s face when he’d declared he wasn’t going to have children. Mason couldn’t have made his thoughts more clear if he’d spoken them aloud. He’d looked from Jericho to Savannah and back again, as if to say Jericho might not want kids, but Savannah probably did.

  Mason was wrong, of course, but everyone would feel the same way, especially given Fulsom’s demands. For the rest of the year, he’d have to field these questions again and again—and so would Savannah. That would certainly put a strain on things—and they were strained enough already.

  “We’re going to go to a doctor today. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.” Boone cocked back his hat and studied the horizon.

  Jericho could imagine. “I’m sure it’s not your fault.”

  “It’s not a matter of fault.” Boone’s tone was tight. “It’s just a matter of fixing the problem—if there is one.” He made a visible effort to control his irritation. “I’ve been reading up. It’s not necessarily a simple process, either; it can take time to figure things out. So the pressure’s on the rest of you. Don’t wait for your wedding night, if you know what I mean. Get to it as soon as you can.” He paused. “You and Savannah have an understanding yet?”

  “Not like that.” Jericho swallowed. “I mean, we’ve talked a little—”

  “She knows you want to marry her?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Good. We’re due for an easy wedding for once.” Boone slugged his shoulder. “Buy her a ring. Throw an engagement party. Let’s get this show on the road.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “Gotta go see that doctor.” He grimaced. “Can’t wait to get this over with. Hope I’m not shooting blanks.”

  He climbed into the truck Jericho had just vacated.

  Jericho watched him drive away.

  Savannah was still reeling when she let herself into the manor’s front door and headed toward the front room where her baby grand piano sat. She’d wiped her tears and told herself she was ready to get back to work, despite her broken heart. With the wedding yesterday and babysitting today, she’d barely practiced. She couldn’t take setbacks to her schedule like this—not if she wanted to be prepared for her audition. But when she turned into the room, she found Riley there before her, sitting at her easel and working on a large landscape painting.

  At least, she was sitting in front of it. Savannah could make out golden pastures, a sweep of blue sky and distant mountains, but Riley wasn’t painting.

  Riley turned. Savannah noticed her eyes were red. Had she been crying, too?

  “Riley? What’s wrong?”

  Riley shrugged, but another tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have a child.”

  “Honey—” Savannah took the paintbrush from Riley’s hand and set it down. She led Riley away from her painting and into the kitchen, sat her in a
seat and began to heat a kettle of water on the stove. “Why would you say that?” She was glad to have something to do to distract herself, but she felt bad for Riley. She knew how much she wanted a child.

  “I’ve been married two months! When am I going to get pregnant? You know I was ready to adopt before I came to Westfield.”

  Savannah nodded. Riley had told her all about her attempts to adopt on her own. But she’d lost her job just as the process was reaching its conclusion and her application had been denied. That was before their idea to move to Chance Creek together.

  “When I got here and met Boone again, I figured Fate knew what it was doing. I thought I was supposed to have a baby with him, and that’s why I hadn’t been allowed to adopt. I figured things would turn out okay, but they’re not!”

  “Two months is nothing,” Savannah assured her. “Sometimes it takes years for a couple to get pregnant!”

  “We don’t have years! We could lose Westfield!”

  Savannah’s heart ached for her friend. Fulsom’s stupid goals were to blame for this outburst. Otherwise Riley loved Boone enough not to care if it took months of trying to get pregnant. But Westfield had belonged to Riley’s family before Fulsom bought it. Riley had once thought she’d inherit the spread. Savannah knew she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it. There was far more than a pregnancy at stake here.

  “I have to get pregnant right now,” Riley told her. “Boone and I decided to go to the doctor to get checked out. We don’t want to waste time. What if they find—what if—”

  “They won’t find anything. Look, you’re letting Fulsom get in your head. There are nine other couples—or there will be. We’ll get it done.”

  “We’re three months into the year. No one’s pregnant yet. What makes you think—?”

  “Because I know it will happen. You and Boone go at it like rabbits, right?” Riley stiffened in surprise but Savannah pushed on. “Nora and Clay are mad for each other. And from what I heard, Harris and Samantha were sneaking off to the woods when they weren’t even supposed to be together. There will be plenty of babies. Trust me.”

  Riley sighed. Tried to smile. “And of course you and Jericho will be next. And when you finally let that man touch you—Savannah, are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Savannah covered her alarm with a coughing fit. “Sorry—something caught in my throat.” She busied herself pouring tea. “I’m not so sure about me and Jericho,” she said. “We might want different things.”

  Riley, who’d just picked up the cup Savannah placed in front of her, put it down again. “Did you have a fight? I thought you two were babysitting at Crescent Hall.”

  “We didn’t have a fight.” Although her heart felt so sore they may as well have. She searched for a way to change the topic, but Riley glanced at the kitchen clock and gasped.

  “Boone’s going to be here any minute to pick me up. I’d better get ready.”

  “Good luck at your appointment.”

  Riley rushed from the room. Savannah sat down to sip her tea. It was cruel for Fate to give her a baby and deny Riley one. Would Riley resent her for getting pregnant so easily while she struggled?

  Savannah hoped not.

  But with the way things were going, she didn’t count on it.

  Why on earth had he convinced Boone to let Savannah skip work?

  Jericho glanced at the time on his phone the following morning and cursed when it was clear she wouldn’t come today. He didn’t know why he’d thought she would after he’d told her she didn’t have to. When he’d made the impetuous gesture the other night it had felt good to support her music career. He’d hoped she’d remember that support when he asked her to marry him.

  But Savannah had kept her face turned away from him all the way home from Crescent Hall yesterday, had cried when he’d begun to propose, and as soon as they reached the manor, she’d slipped out of the truck and gone inside without saying goodbye. She hadn’t appeared at breakfast this morning, either, although he’d seen her getting out of her tent and heading to the bunkhouse with Avery early that morning to help each other finish dressing in their Regency gowns. She must have slipped back up to the manor while he was visiting one of the composting toilets and she hadn’t come back.

  Had all those babies yesterday made her think about Fulsom’s demands? Was she afraid if she married him, he’d push for children, too? She’d made it pretty clear she didn’t want him to propose on the way home. Jericho supposed he didn’t blame her. A truck wasn’t the place for a romantic gesture. He just hoped that was the only reason she’d pulled away from him like that. She’d seemed so tired—so defeated when she’d leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes.

  Was she worried she’d never get the chance to pursue her dream? Did she think they’d all pressure her to be a mom, instead?

  Jericho wasn’t sure how he could make it clearer he didn’t want kids—and wouldn’t push for her to have them. He’d stated his intention to stay childless pretty baldly when Mason had asked.

  Whatever had made her so upset, he’d better go talk to her. And ask her out on a real date, too. Even though they saw each other every day—had worked with each other evey day until now—he couldn’t expect her to jump straight into matrimony without a little wooing.

  He trudged up the hill, sighing when a camera crew seemed to appear out of nowhere to follow him. He supposed there was nothing for it but to go ahead and talk to Savannah anyway. Even before he crested the ridge he heard the sound of her playing the piano. She wasn’t thundering through a crescendo or tripping lightly over a waltz, however. Instead it sounded like she was pressing random keys without much thought to tempo or tune.

  Avery showed him in when he knocked on the back door.

  “I’m glad you’re here. Savannah’s in the parlor,” was all she said as she pushed past him out the door and headed toward Base Camp. Jericho assumed she was going to meet Walker. Savannah stopped playing and watched him approach warily, frowning when the crew followed him in.

  “You’re not at work.”

  “You said you’d talk to Boone.”

  “I did, and it’s all right. I just missed you.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Every hour counts.”

  “I guess so. What’s your next step?” He was making conversation because he didn’t know how to broach the topic he’d come here to talk about.

  “I… have to prepare so I’m at the top of my form. Then I’ll need to find venues to showcase my talent.”

  “So you need to practice a lot. I get it,” Jericho said. It made sense, although he felt a pang as he thought about the way her career would take Savannah away from Base Camp frequently. He liked it when she focused her attention right here—on him, and his ideas for a green energy system.

  He guessed he’d been fooling himself when he’d thought she might be growing interested in the technology he’d been teaching her to use during their work hours. After all, what was a bunch of physics to a woman who lived and breathed music?

  “Do you mean that?” Savannah asked him. “I know you’ve got deadlines to meet.”

  “I’ll meet them, don’t you worry about that. I understand commitment and drive. Your career is everything for you—just like mine is for me.”

  “Is that why—?” Savannah broke off.

  “Why what?”

  “Why you don’t want kids?” she asked tentatively.

  Just like he thought; she was worried he’d push for children when she wanted to focus on her career. Best to get the truth right out in the open. Savannah would be relieved to know he wasn’t expecting her to take on motherhood.

  “That’s part of it. The way I see it is you and I both have plenty to do without adding kids into the mix. Everyone else here is going to try for babies. Soon Base Camp will be as awash with them as Crescent Hall. With the career you’ve got planned there’s no way you’d have time to be a good mom. I understand that. I support the choice you’re makin
g. When you play Carnegie Hall, I’ll be in the front row and start the standing ovation. Won’t that be great?” There. Now she could be in no doubt of where he stood.

  He couldn’t read her expression. It was like she’d frozen in place, her hands resting on the keys, her eyes staring forward but seeing nothing.

  She must be overcome at how supportive he was being. After all, neither her family nor her ex-fiancé had respected her career. Jericho stepped closer, braced his hands on her shoulders, bent down and stole a kiss. “You and me—we’ll make a great pair. We see everything the same way. Eyes on the prize, right?”

  “Right.” Savannah’s voice was barely audible. She cleared her throat and repeated the word. “Right. Eyes on the prize.”

  She was still shocked. “So don’t you worry about coming to work anymore,” Jericho told her, wanting to clear up his intentions once and for all. “You practice all day. All night, too, if you want. Except tonight.”

  “Why not tonight?” Savannah asked dazedly.

  “Because tonight you and I are going on a date. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  He beat a retreat before she could protest, and by the time he reached the back door his spirits had been restored. That hadn’t gone badly at all.

  “We’re going to have a full house this time,” Avery said later that morning when all the women except Sam had gathered around the kitchen table for a quick meeting before lunch. Savannah was finding it hard to focus on anything except the ache in her heart. After Jericho had left, she’d climbed slowly to her bedroom, shut the door and locked it—but found she couldn’t cry. This was even worse than she’d imagined. Jericho didn’t want kids. Not only that—he didn’t think she’d make a good mother if she pursued her career. His pronouncement had sliced straight through her heart.

  It was her worst fear. The thing that woke her in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let her sleep again. What kind of mother left her baby for days while she traveled? Savannah knew perfectly well people made all kinds of situations work in circumstances like hers. They hired a nanny, or brought in a grandparent to care for the child. But Savannah’s mother was hardly maternal, and she’d never met Jericho’s mom. And most likely wouldn’t—not with his attitude about fatherhood.