The Texas SEAL's Surprise--A Clean Romance

by Cari Lynn Webb

  “She’ll take power naps.” Wes checked the latch on the gate. “She’ll keep a close eye on her baby.”

  “But she’s safe now.” Abby turned back to the mare and repeated her words to the horse. She glanced at a too-quiet Wes. “What? I thought she should know.”

  “That was kind.” He started toward the main doors.

  “So you talk to your horses.”

  “Every day.” Wes held open the door for Abby. “As often as I can. It’s for them as much as for me.”

  There was nothing flippant or offhand about his words. And it was a detail that gave her more insight into the man. “Was rescuing horses always your plan?”

  “Never,” he said. “Three Springs was never the plan either.”

  Surprise shifted through her. Wes seemed as if he was part of the fabric of the town itself. “What was?”

  “Retire from the Navy and return to our family’s ranch.” Wes stopped beside the pasture fence and whistled. A familiar, robust horse pulled away from the herd and trotted toward him and Abby. “I retired. But then my mom passed. And the ranch no longer belonged to our family. I took it for granted that it’d always be there.”

  She’d taken for granted her relationship with her ex. She’d bought so fully into what she had believed they’d shared, she’d missed the truth. Opposites might attract at first, but relationships built to last needed more than chemistry. Clint and Abby were two different people with entirely different values. They had fit an image, but not each other’s core beliefs.

  Abby had been in love with the idea of being in love. She understood that now. Understood also that she couldn’t trust herself to recognize love. And that joy her grandpa wanted her to find shouldn’t be confused with her misguided feelings for Wes. “So you moved here when you retired from the Navy?”

  “I came to tell Boone about his grandson’s life and sacrifice.” Wes straddled the fence and greeted Dan. Or, rather, the horse placed his massive muzzle in Wes’s face and exhaled through his nostrils all over him. Wes never flinched and returned the greeting with a rub along Dan’s neck. “Jake Bradley was my best friend. We met in basic, survived SEAL training together, then served on the same platoon for over a dozen missions.”

  “I’m sorry.” Abby ached. For the grief shading Wes’s face. For Boone and his loss. She’d seen the folded flag in a wooden frame on Boone’s fireplace mantel in his family room earlier. Her response seemed too lacking. Not nearly enough. Taking his hand would give her comfort. But would he accept it in return? She curved her fingers around the fence post.

  “Jake was my brother. Family, really.” Dan worked himself closer to Wes and rested his head on his shoulder as if even the horse understood Wes’s pain. Wes never lost his balance. But the sadness in his voice tapered off. “I had to come here for Boone. As it was, I felt like I already knew him from the letters he’d sent to Jake and the stories Jake had told. I admired their bond. Respected both men more than I can say.”

  And Wes had honored both men with his actions. He could’ve sent a card to Boone; instead he came in person. “What made you stay in town?”

  “Boone gave me the apartment behind the bar and a job until I decided what I wanted to do next.” Wes rubbed Dan’s thick neck again. “I’ll repay him one day soon for his kindness.”

  Abby opened and closed her mouth. Wes had repaid Boone. He continued to do so every day from the work he took care of on the ranch and at the bar. Wes had given Boone a link to his grandson and, no doubt, someone to share his grief with. But that had clearly evolved into a deep friendship between the two men who looked out for each other now as if they were family. She saw the respect and love each one had for the other every time they were together. And they were often together. Abby eased closer to Wes and reached to stroke Dan behind his tall ears. “How did Dan find his way here?”

  “About six months after I arrived, a couple came into the bar. They had rescued Dan and four other horses. Their truck had broken down outside of town.” Dan lifted his head and nickered. Wes continued. “The stables here were empty at the time. Boone offered them a place to board their rescues for the night. Even starved and neglected, Dan was still the largest and most stubborn.”

  Abby said teasingly, “There’s nothing wrong with being tenacious and determined, Dan.”

  “I was the only one able to coax Dan off the trailer,” Wes added. “I stayed with him that night.”

  “You slept in the stall?” Abby couldn’t keep the disbelief from her tone. Dan wasn’t a miniature poodle. He could’ve hurt Wes by accident during the night if he’d been startled or scared. Yet Wes had put himself in that position anyway. For a frightened and confused horse. Abby wasn’t certain she wanted to know any more. Wes had layers and depth she’d only guessed at. Qualities that drew her to him even more.

  But a relationship wasn’t a road she wanted to take. She had a child to put first. A life and a job to establish. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by one more of her illusions. And love was nothing more than that.

  “I’ve slept in worse conditions than a clean, dry horse stall. It’s rare I even sleep through the night.” Wes shrugged as if unconcerned by his admission. As if it was a fact of his life, not a problem. “The next morning, Dan wanted nothing to do with the trailer. I knew what Dan needed and how to provide for him, so I told the couple he could stay.”

  “You gave him a safe place to live.” Abby pressed a kiss on Dan’s muzzle. “Everyone needs that, don’t they, Dan? To feel safe and cared for.”

  Wes cleared his throat. “Well, now Dan is the ambassador here. He looks after the herd.”

  But who looks after you? Who cares about you? Not that Abby was raising her hand for the part. “You gave him a purpose.”

  “We gave each other one.” Wes pointed at a gray mare in the pasture. “I took in Cinder from the same couple last year. She’ll be having her foal in September.”

  “How do you decide which horses to take in?” And if you can let a horse into your life, could you let me in too? That was the wrong direction. Entirely, utterly wrong. Abby blinked and concentrated on redirecting her thoughts.

  “Their condition. Their story.” Wes rubbed his chin and watched the herd. “A feeling that I can help. That I can make a difference in a particular horse’s life in that moment.”

  He’d been making a difference in her life since she’d arrived. “Do you keep them?”

  “Not always. I’ve found new homes for seven.” Wes tipped his head and smiled. “Before you ask, yes, I keep in touch with the owners about the horses’ progress.”

  There was so much affection in his face. He had a passion for the horses that was clear. He had joy too. So much, whether he was talking about the animals or working with them. It’d been wrapped around him inside the stable, woven through every movement. She hadn’t recognized it before. She did now.

  It was the joy Grandpa Harlan always spoke of. “This is enough for you.”

  He shifted toward her. “What is?”

  “The horses. The bar. The apartment.” Abby moved her hand around like she was waving a magic wand. “Your life is enough for you.”

  “Yeah. I’m content.” Wes climbed off the fence and dropped into her space, facing her fully. “What more should I want—could I want, really?”

  Me. You could want me too. Abby shook her head and adjusted her stance before she face-planted in that pothole. “I get it.”

  “How do you define content?” He leaned against the fence, one boot crossed over the other, and considered her.

  “I’m still working that out.” She reached up and curled her fingers around the ocean-colored jasper stone in her necklace. The grounding stone was worn for stability and confidence. “I thought I was happy in Santa Cruz. But it wasn’t real.”

  “What did content look like in Santa Cruz?” he asked.


  “It was a bungalow several blocks from the beach. A nine-to-five job. A newscaster boyfriend.” They’d portrayed the ideal image of content. Abby flexed her fingers around the oval style stone. But feeling content inside, where it mattered, like Wes? Had she ever known that?

  “And what does content mean now?” His quiet voice barely stirred the still evening air between them.

  You. When I’m with you, I’m content. Safe. Seen. Abby settled her gaze on his and paused until her heart quieted. Her heart had fooled her before. She wouldn’t put any faith in its whispers now. “Content means family and belonging. Being a part of something that’s bigger than me.”

  “Searching for the McKenzie sisters’ treasure won’t make you content.” Wes laughed. The sound wrapped around her. “It’ll make you frustrated.”

  “It’s not about a treasure hunt.” Although it could be. That excitement simmered even now. “It’s about being connected to a place and the people who lived here.”

  “You’re talking about roots?” Distaste twisted his grin into a frown.

  “You don’t like roots, do you?”

  “It’s not that, exactly,” he said, hedging.

  “What is it, exactly?” Was it the idea of putting down roots with someone? Someone like me?

  “It’s exactly time we return to the house and join that card game.” He gestured beyond her. “Tess is coming to get us right now.”

  Abby spun around, waved to her cousin and called out, “We’ll be right there.”

  “You guys are partners,” Tess shouted back. “You have until you reach the house to come up with a good strategy to win.”

  The back door shut on Tess’s laughter.

  Abby and Wes walked to the patio. At the door, he rested his hand on the frame, preventing her from opening it. “Are you any good at cards?”

  “Are you?” She faced him on the landing. “I like to win and don’t want to have to carry every hand for my team.”

  “I can hold my own.” Laughter swirled through his tone. He stepped onto the landing beside her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t nearly enough distance between them. Oddly, it was as if she’d put herself even closer to him. “Care to make a side bet?”

  “I would.”

  “If I win more points for our team, you have to tell me why you don’t like roots.”

  His eyes widened, revealing interest and a warmth she hadn’t seen before. “What if I score more points in this partnership?”

  “I cook dinner for you.”

  “You already owe me dinner.” The humor in his voice pushed one corner of his mouth up. “I’m not entirely sure how many of your Grandma Opal’s recipes you’ve mastered.”

  “Then, you pick.” Her words held no more weight than a whisper.

  “If I win, you answer a question of my choice.” That warmth in his gaze glinted from the challenge in his voice.

  “Any question?”

  He nodded.

  She had questions she wanted to put to him. Too many in fact. Could she pick the right one to ask? Could he?

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ABBY PARKED IN Corine Bauer’s driveway and brushed dust from her arms. The dirt smudged on her off-white lace dress was going to require laundry detergent and a washing machine. She grabbed her bandanna-print knee-length cardi from the passenger seat of Tess’s car and adjusted the thin red cotton wrap until it hid most of the dirt stains. Then she rubbed at her hands again.

  She was meeting her boss. For the first time. Dirty fingernails and a wrinkled, smudged dress wasn’t the look she’d been going for. But she’d gotten caught up in the impromptu search at the general store.

  One that had begun with a vigorous knocking on their apartment door not an hour past sunrise. Abby had greeted Boone and Sam, both wearing eager grins and clutching coffee cups and flashlights. The foursome had descended the stairs and had spent the past three hours searching shelves, drawers and cabinets for the framed silver coin.

  Boone had unearthed a cuckoo clock from a hutch in the front alcove. Tess had discovered a doorstop collection inside a stuck bottom drawer behind the counter. Sam and Abby had encountered more dust and cobwebs than anything in the second alcove. Dozens of boxes, assorted chairs and two vintage chests had to be moved before they could even properly search. Still, the conversation had flowed easily, and each discovery had fueled their enthusiasm. Despite the missing penny not turning up.

  When Abby had finally checked her watch, she had just enough time to drive to Corine’s house. Changing would’ve made her late. She’d chosen punctuality over a spotless appearance. And now could only hope Corine agreed.

  A man, wearing a plaid shirt and serious-looking tool belt, opened the Bauer front door. He introduced himself as Keith Bauer, welcomed Abby inside and guided her around stacks of wooden floor planks. “Sorry about the mess. It started as new hardwood flooring for the office. Just this morning, my wife declared she likes it so much, she wants to extend it to the entire downstairs.”

  Sawdust fell from Keith’s work boots with every step he took. Abby relaxed. “It’s a lovely honey-colored floor. It will add a warmth to your rooms.”

  Keith slowed and glanced at her. “Have you been talking to my wife too?”

  Abby laughed and shook her head.

  “I’ve got a list of projects to finish quickly.” Keith opened a bedroom door on the first floor and motioned Abby inside. “At this rate I’m not ever going to get the nursery completed on time.”

  Corine Bauer sat propped up by pillows in a queen-size bed. Her thick brown hair twisted into a haystack bun on top of her head. She threw her arms wide and accepted a hug and kiss from her husband. “I’m not adding to the project list. I’m improving it.”

  “Either way, it’s getting longer each day.” Keith ruined his put-out gruffness by giving his wife a big smile and fixing the covers around her. He then set his palm gently on her stomach. As if he was checking on his twins. Or perhaps just letting them know he was there.

  Something snagged inside Abby’s chest. From the reverence on Keith’s face to the love glistening in Corine’s brown eyes. Abby glanced away.

  Photos filled one of the bedroom walls, detailing the couple’s journey from their marriage proposal to their outdoor wedding. Abby had always envisioned herself following the same sort of traditional path. Proposal. Wedding. Children. She’d skipped a few steps. Jumped ahead to a child. Accepted her new road. Still, she couldn’t deny that tiny sting of envy. And that pinch of regret.

  But it wasn’t for herself entirely. It was more for her child and the father he or she wouldn’t know. Abby flattened her palm over her own tummy. Vowed again she would be all her child ever needed. Doubled down on her promise to provide a home. Stability. That started now. Here in the Bauer house by convincing this woman that Abby could handle the job.

  “Okay, I have work, and so do you.” Corine gave Keith another kiss and pushed him away. “Try not to make too much noise, please. I don’t want Abby and I to have to shout at each other.”

  Keith pulled a pair of headphones from his tool belt and slipped them on. “That’s what these are for.”

  “He got me a pair too.” Corine picked up a pair of silver wireless headphones from the bedside table. “They really come in handy. Now, Abby, come and sit. Just don’t choose the rocking chair.”

  Abby veered away from the antique rocker and crossed to the tall-backed armchair between the bed and the window alcove. “Is there something wrong with the rocking chair?”

  “My husband’s relatives claim their many-times-over-great-grandmother sat in that very rocking chair with a cattle prod and watched the Herring Gang be chased out of town for good.” Corine’s voice shifted from an awed whisper to distaste. “But it can’t be true.”

 
Another doubter. Like Wes. If Corine wasn’t a believer, how would she convince her boss that her idea had merit? “You don’t believe in the legend, then.”

  “Oh, that’s true.” Corine flicked her wrist at the rocker and grimaced. “It’s the sitting in that particular rocking chair that I don’t believe for a hot second.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Abby walked over to the chair and studied the intricately carved arms and the headrest. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s like sitting on a pile of sharp, crushed rocks.” Corine eyed the piece as if waiting for it to transform. “Doesn’t matter how many pillows you pile on it. Your bottom hurts something fierce in under a minute.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” Abby dropped into the chair. The spindles jammed between her spine like hard ice picks. And the seat. She jumped back out and studied the antique rocking chair. Barely refraining from rubbing her backside. “Okay. It is that bad.”

  “I thought my sister-in-law was a bit too giddy when they dropped off the chair,” Corine explained. “All the Bauer women supposedly rock their newborns to sleep in that chair. It’s tradition. But traditions are supposed to be enjoyable. Like a crown on your birthday. I still have the one my mom made me. Candles in your birthday doughnut stack. I’m stealing that one from my neighbor across the street. Traditions should be fun.”

  Like the birthday tins of homemade candy Tess used to send Abby every year. Abby backed away from the rocker and dropped into the armchair again. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’ve been staring at it for days.” Corine adjusted her pillows behind her. Her words were hopeful. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “You could designate the rocker for your husband.” Abby tiptoed around the swish of guilt. Keith had been very polite and nice. And adorably attentive to his wife. But Abby had to look out for her boss. If Corine was cranky or sleep-deprived that would surely make her less receptive to Abby’s ideas. “Twins means you’re going to need an extra set of arms.”

  “I could get this one I found online.” Corine pulled a tablet from beneath the covers and tapped on the screen. Then she handed it to Abby.