“Honestly? No.”
“See? So what if I was wrong to head up here, demanding Tiffany and I force a marriage when neither one of us are anywhere near ready to settle down? We don’t know the first thing about raising a baby. Hell, what do I know about changing diapers or making formula? I like to think someday I’d make a good dad, but how do I know now is that time?”
“You know when you know.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Just what I said. Look, when Justine first told me she was pregnant with Izzy—not gonna lie, I was scared shitless. But that’s why the good Lord saw fit to give us nine months to get used to the idea. So that by the time the baby enters the world, you’ve got yourself good and psyched up. Then, once you see him or her...” his eyes welled and he tapped the center of his chest “...it’s magic. Indescribable. You just know that suddenly the most important person in your world is this tiny, squalling, red-faced creature who holds your heart in her tiny hands. Or, in your case, his hands.” He sighed. “I’m not passing judgment. If you don’t feel like now is the time for you to be a dad, I can’t say I understand, but I’m not going to love you any less. I’m sure as hell not going to judge—neither are Mom and Dad. Only you can decide if you’re ready to be a father. And if Tiffany maintains that she can’t handle custody, then it might come down to you having to raise this baby boy on your own. Not sure how you’d do that while deployed, but we’re a family and we’d figure it out.”
Rowdy wished his big brother’s sage words made him feel better, but if anything, he’d only grown more confused.
Chapter Eight
“How exciting,” Pearl said not thirty seconds after Tiffany and the Parkers entered the house. “It’s rare to have company around here, and you all make for three in the same week. How do you know our Tiffany?”
“Grammy, these are the baby’s adoptive parents.” Tiffany made formal introductions. “I had a problem with swollen feet this afternoon, so Rowdy took me to the ER. Jeb and Susie were kind enough to give me a ride home. I guess Rowdy will stop by later with my car.”
“Gracious.” Hand to her chest, Pearl made a clucking sound. “Hope it’s nothing serious?”
Mr. Bojangles danced at Susie’s and Jeb’s feet. He wasn’t wearing the black sweater she’d put on him that morning. Was he cold?
Gigi wandered in, fluffing her hair. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we have guests? I would have done something with myself.” Of course, Gigi looked flawless in full makeup, curled hair and a flowing, bejeweled caftan far more suited to Dubai than North Dakota.
“Hush.” Pearl landed a light swat to her daughter-in-law’s shoulder. “Tiffany’s sick, and these are the people who will be taking her baby.”
“But I thought she was marrying Rowdy and keeping the baby? I’ve been on the phone with florists and caterers most of the afternoon.”
Poor Susie paled.
Jeb wrapped his arm around her shoulders as support.
For some unfathomable reason, Tiffany wished for Rowdy to give her the same comforting treatment, but that train had long left the station. Judging by the dark look he’d sported while meeting their son’s adoptive parents, he’d been as shocked to see them as they had been upon meeting him.
Susie’s eyes teared, but she managed to say, “We were under the impression the baby’s father was no longer in the picture?”
“He wasn’t. He’s not,” Tiffany assured them. The drive over, Susie had been on the phone with a private nursing company. Despite Tiffany’s protests, she’d been determined to provide round-the-clock care.
“That’s not what he told us,” Pearl stated. “That man declared his intentions, so I’m real sorry,” she said to Susie and Jeb, “but Tiffany and Rowdy will be keeping their baby.”
“Don’t listen to them.” For the baby, Tiffany needed to get this issue behind her and sit down. Her feet were already once again starting to swell. “Susie, Jeb, I know the baby’s father showing up has put a slight kink in our plans, but I wholeheartedly believe he’ll come around. Please, for now, I can’t thank you enough for charging to my rescue, but I need rest.”
“What about the private nurses?” Jeb asked.
Pearl raised her chin. “I might be old, but I’m plenty capable of caring for my own grandchild.”
As if sensing the tension, Mr. Bojangles barked.
“Grammy—” Tiffany awkwardly knelt to pick up her anxious dog “—the doctor told me I need to be on bed rest for the week. I can’t burden you with that.”
“Nonsense. I—”
A brief knock sounded on the still-ajar front door. Then Rowdy stepped into the fray. “If anyone’s going to care for Tiffany and our baby, it’ll be me.”
Once again Tiffany nearly swooned.
She scolded her stupid, romantic heart. The only service Rowdy currently performed was acting as one more person wanting something from her that she wasn’t equipped to give.
“So that’s it?” Jeb asked. “Man-to-man, you’re not willing to sign away your parental rights?”
“Honestly?” Rowdy’s whisker-stubbled jaw hardened and he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’m not sure. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t leaning in that direction, but my military career isn’t exactly family friendly, so that’s got me wondering if maybe an adoption would be best?”
Susie took a tissue from her purse and blotted her watery eyes. Tiffany’s heart ached for the poor woman. She’d been trying to get pregnant for nearly a decade. Wanting a baby consumed her. To now snatch back this most precious gift would be beyond cruel.
“We’ll need a definitive answer,” Jeb said. “My wife is a strong woman, but—”
“I can speak for myself,” Susie said. “Rowdy, Tiffany explained how you only just recently found out you were going to be a father, so I’m sure you’re still adjusting to the news. Please know that if you were to decide to go through with the adoption, we’d be forever in your debt. Your son would never want for love or anything else.”
“I appreciate that,” Rowdy said, “but you’ve got to understand that this decision is going to take a minute.”
“Of course.” She bowed her head.
“If I did decide to sign over my parental rights, would I at least be involved in my child’s life? Or are we talking about a closed adoption?”
“Closed,” Jeb said. “Sorry, but I think it’s best for the child to believe we’re his parents in every sense of the word. Someday down the line—maybe when he’s in college, we could tell him the truth, but—”
“I get it.” Rowdy held up his hands to stop Jeb’s speech.
“What about the wedding?” Gigi asked.
“Mom, please, stay out of this. And for the last time, there’s not going to be a...” Suddenly light-headed, Tiffany grasped the newel post for support.
“This party’s over,” Rowdy said, already by her side, scooping her into his arms. “Jeb, Susie, we’ll let you know when we have an answer. Until then, please respect the fact that this isn’t an easy choice for any of us. We’ll let you know what we’ve decided as soon as we know.”
He carried her up the stairs, tenderly deposited her on the bed, then took the dog from her to set him atop her towering belly, where he served as king of the mountain.
She didn’t have the energy to move him.
It was only a little past five, but the afternoon had been beyond exhausting.
To the dog, Rowdy said, “Watch over your mom and my son, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Tiffany asked.
“To finish a conversation.” He removed her heels, then pitched them across the room. He took her favorite fuzzy blanket from the foot of the bed, lifted Mr. Bojangles long enough to cover her, then set the dog back on her belly wh
ile adjusting her pillows. “Comfortable?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be back with food and something to drink. Don’t you dare move a muscle. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” She made a sassy salute.
Her SEAL growled before storming out her bedroom door, closing it behind him.
She closed her eyes and tried sleeping, but that was kind of tough considering the raised voices floating up the stairs. Not to mention the fact that she’d just thought of Rowdy in terms of being hers, when nothing could be further from the truth.
* * *
ROWDY DESCENDED THE stairs to find himself immersed in the sort of verbal ugliness he hadn’t seen since his last visit to Mogadishu.
Jeb fought with Pearl.
Susie warred with Gigi.
What all of them had forgotten was that upstairs, the woman carrying the unborn child they bickered over was in less-than-ideal health. Tiffany needed care and support—not infighting over custody of a child who would rightfully be his.
Sick of the noise, he put his fingers in his mouth for an ear-piercing whistle. When all four of them stopped yammering to stare, he said, “Susie and Jeb, I appreciate your help.” He fished one of his family ranch business cards from his wallet to hand to Jeb. “Whatever the medical costs turn out to be, please forward them to me at this address.”
“This isn’t about money,” Susie said. “We want your baby.”
“I get that. Your message has come through loud and clear. But right now my sole focus is Tiffany. She needs peace and quiet. Which means you two need to leave.”
“I thought you said you just needed time. D-does this mean you’ve already made a decision?” Tears streamed down Susie’s cheeks.
“I honestly don’t know. At the moment, all I do know is that like I already told you, the best I can offer is to give you a decision closer to when the baby’s due. Until then, I’d appreciate not seeing either of you again.”
“We do have rights,” Jeb noted. “The adoption will be legal just as soon as Tiffany signs a contract.”
“Yeah...” He opened the front door and gestured the way out. “Well, that was before I was in the picture. Now that I’m back in, you can take your contract and shove it up your—”
“I think they get the message,” Pearl said with a calming hand to his back. “Susie and Jeb, I’m sure Tiffany will call should her condition change.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Jeb said before ushering a sobbing Susie out the door.
Once they’d left, Rowdy leaned hard against the nearest wall, closing his eyes for a moment to drag in an extra-deep breath.
“I had no idea you were such a powerful orator,” Gigi said. “Perhaps at the wedding, you and Tiffany should write your own vows?”
If a guy like Jeb had said that, Rowdy probably would have decked him for the ridiculous comment, but Tiffany’s mother looked so sincere all he could do was laugh. “If it comes to that, we’ll see. But for now, could one of you please help me make Tiff a cup of herbal tea?”
“It would be my most sincere pleasure,” Pearl said. “I have fresh-baked oatmeal cookies, too. I always add a smidge more vanilla than the recipe calls for. Makes them extra tasty.”
“I can’t wait to find out.” Rowdy followed both women to the kitchen, where Gigi chattered about the holiday-themed wedding that was never going to happen. Meanwhile, Pearl prepared a tray loaded with three small baskets of cookies, muffins and grapes. Once the teakettle whistled on the gas stove, she poured steaming water over the tea bag she’d already placed in a dainty floral cup.
“Here you go,” she said once she’d finished. “Need help delivering it to our patient?”
“No, thank you. You’ve done enough by putting all this together.”
His simple praise left the kindly old woman beaming.
Gigi sported a huge smile, too. “Mother Lawson, it sure is nice having a man around the house, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am, it sure is. I’m excited for the wedding. I might tackle the cake all on my own.”
“You do make beautiful cakes.” Gigi snatched a cookie from her daughter’s tray.
Rowdy didn’t have the heart to tell them the wedding was a figment of their imaginations, so he retreated up the rambling farmhouse’s back stairs.
It was tricky cradling the tray in the crook of one arm while turning the crystal doorknob to Tiffany’s room, but once he was in, the sight awaiting him took his breath away.
Tiffany and her sorry excuse for a guard dog had fallen asleep. Both lightly snored, and both were bathed in the setting sun’s golden glow.
She was a beauty.
He recalled the night they’d met like it had happened eight minutes earlier as opposed to eight months.
How had all of this gotten so messy?
When he’d learned of her pregnancy, he’d planned for a simple extraction mission. Pick up the woman carrying his baby, bring her back to Virginia, set her up in a house. Problem solved, right? But somewhere along the way, she’d gotten under his skin. He found himself wanting to do little things for her. Hefting her into his arms more because he craved holding her rather than because she wasn’t able to walk.
Swiping his hands through his hair, he tried looking at this cluster bomb of a situation with a clinical view.
But a pang in his chest stopped all signals from going to his brain. Where his logic used to live now resided an unfamiliar craving for a more elusive something he couldn’t wholly identify, let alone find.
His every current problem stemmed from this woman.
Her blond hair streamed across the pillow, catching glints from the sun as if she were his own personal siren. In that moment, he didn’t want to be with her for the sake of the baby, but because he wanted to kiss her.
For a guy whose tightest relationship was with the US Navy? Craving a woman was a very bad thing.
Chapter Nine
It was just her luck that when Tiffany woke from her dream of yachting on the Amalfi Coast, being ravished by a dark, brooding sort who looked suspiciously like Rowdy, she’d find herself being assaulted by Mr. Bojangles’s overexcited tongue.
“Sorry,” Rowdy said. “I tried getting him off of you, but it was tough while trying not to spill your tea.”
“I understand.” After setting her dog on the pillow beside her, she struggled to push herself up in the bed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
He shrugged. “Pearl did all of the work. I just carried it upstairs.” After placing her still-steaming tea on the nightstand, he asked, “Cookie or muffin?”
“Both.” She frowned. “I’m horrible. Once this baby pops out, the carb police are going to lock me in solitary confinement for a year with nothing but celery.”
“Knock it off. You’re beautiful.” After delivering her baked goods, he sat on the ultrafeminine chaise where Gigi usually lounged. At first he looked uncertain about what to do with his long legs, but then he figured it out and leisurely stretched as if he’d taken lessons on being a royal from her spoiled-rotten dog.
He cast her an indecipherable grin.
“What’s that about?”
“What?”
“That grin. You look suspicious.”
He crossed his legs. “You’re way off base.”
“Okay, then, what’s up?”
“I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole—especially when you’re currently giving me a rather lengthy one.” He winked.
It took her a sec, but then she flung a pillow at him. “You’re horrible! How can you think of sex when I’m huge?”
“Because you’re still the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, and when I walked in the room, your expression reminded me of the morning I w
oke up beside you—not to mention the crazy shit we did the night before.”
Her cheeks flamed. Not that she protested him finding her ginormous body desirable, but she had to add, “In light of what we just went through with Susie and Jeb and my football-sized feet, how is any of that relevant?”
“How is it not?” He sat up, swinging his legs around to plant his feet flat on the floor and elbows on his knees. “Think about it. If it wasn’t for that night, the two of us might never have spoken again. That has to mean something, don’t you think?”
“Like in a touchy-feely universal kind of way?”
“Exactly. What if we’re soul mates? And our son is the thread binding us together?”
“Soul mates?” She struggled not to laugh. “My future soul mate is waiting for me back in Texas. He will own a twenty-room Dallas mansion, a log cabin in Aspen and a French château we don’t visit as often as we’d like, because it’s so fabulous that it’s always being rented for movies.”
He rolled his eyes. “I refuse to believe you’re that narrow-minded when it comes to finding a good man.”
She didn’t used to be. Back when Crawford asked her to marry him, she’d still believed in happy endings. “Right about the time Big Daddy landed himself in jail and Crawford served divorce papers, I gave up on love. It’s an antiquated emotion best saved for sappy greeting cards. I’ll be the first to admit, the night you and I shared was incredible—hands down, best sex I’ve ever had. But what did that get me? A bun in the oven and some navy SEAL cowboy who won’t stick around any longer than the horse-riding version. If I told you this second I want to keep our baby and ride off into the sunset with you, what would you say?”
“Depends. Would this marriage have benefits?”
“No.” She frowned. “Give me your real answer. Not the first one that pops into your dirty mind. Or your heroic, save-the-world SEAL mind. Take both of those what-you-think-you-should-do urges out of the equation to give this topic rational thought. What happens when our little Johnny has a bad flu or lands the lead role in his school play or is—”
The Cowboy SEAL's Jingle Bell Baby Page 9