The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2)

Home > Romance > The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2) > Page 8
The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2) Page 8

by Laura Marie Altom


  His trusty hoe leaned against the porch rail, but he opted against using it. Call it pride or vanity or just plain pigheadedness, but he couldn’t bear showing Macy one more sign of weakness. He’d rather she remembered him the way he used to be, back when he had something to offer.

  He made it down the steps without additional support by keeping a firm hold on the rail. Turned out he needn’t have bothered putting on a solid front for her, since she hadn’t once looked up from her son and the dog.

  “Look at Henry’s face. He’s enthralled.”

  Wiley finally made it to the truck, and couldn’t deny that the combination of the kid’s drooling grin with the dog’s mini-fox-like features proved a potent force on anyone’s cute-meter. But having spent a large chunk of his life as a SEAL, cute had never been a priority.

  “Wish I had room in my life for a dog,” Macy said.

  Inspiration struck. “Be my guest and take this one. You’d be doing me a huge favor, and I’m sure Doc wouldn’t mind since all he wanted was for the mutt to find a good home.”

  “I shouldn’t...” Her expression read wistful longing. If she’d been a trout, she’d have already checked out his fly. All he had to do now was set the hook and reel her in.

  “Look at him. He needs a woman’s touch. He’ll be miserable around here. Besides, Doc already brought me a horse, goat and cat to go along with the dog family living in the barn.”

  “They’re still here?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Thought Doc said the hound and her pups were only your temporary houseguests.”

  “Thank you. That’s what I told him, but I think he was trying to pull a fast one, and all along knew he was never coming back for them.”

  “In his defense, you do have that great big beautiful empty barn just begging to be filled.”

  “Whatever.” He ran his hand through his too-long hair, suddenly self-conscious about his outer shell. On the inside? He looked even worse. “Think Henry would get a kick out of seeing the pups?”

  “Of course.”

  “Come on.” He grabbed Blinkie. “Let’s head to the barn. I’m sure the momma will enjoy the company. The goat’s in the side yard. You didn’t hear me say this, but I think he needs a friend. As for Lulu, the horse, she enjoys my company about as much as your Charlie.” Please, let my leg hold up long enough to get to the damn barn without too much pain. To his surprise, he was enjoying Macy’s visit. The sunshine. Even the baby and miniature dog. But how long until his leg gave out? Until the pain transformed him back into a beast? He’d made a career out of trusting his body. Now that the trust was no longer there, Wiley felt like a cheap knockoff of his former self.

  “Want me to have my friend Wendy look on Craigslist? I’m sure someone around here has an extra goat or two.”

  “Just one—and no thanks on the help. I’ll ask Doc next time he’s around. How is Charlie by the way?”

  “Good. As feisty as ever.” She went on to explain how Charlie and his ladies tried getting into her garden, but she’d stopped them in time.

  Wiley needed to keep her talking. He needed her mind focused on anything but him, and his struggle.

  “When Grandpa was alive, Charlie followed him like a faithful old dog and was always getting treats. I’m guessing he expects the same from me, but lately, Henry has taken more of an interest in him and wants to pet him. Well, you can guess how that’s going. Charlie spit at us both and I’m not having it.”

  “Don’t blame you.” They’d made it to the barn, where Wiley was able to lean against the door. Sweat beaded his forehead.

  “Look, Henry! Remember the puppies?”

  Wiley couldn’t help but watch in wonder as Macy knelt alongside the momma hound, teaching her son to be gentle with his touch. Sometimes during a deployment, Wiley’s team had come across families. More often than not, they’d been caught up in a shitstorm. But then there were occasions before or after a mission, maybe while just traveling from point A to B, when he’d caught glimpses of a father teaching his son or daughter to ride a bike, or a mother braiding her daughter’s hair. A husband and wife holding hands while watching the sunset. Those moments stayed with him—trapped like lightning bugs in a jar.

  They’d made him yearn to one day find that particular brand of not just happiness, but a place for his lonely soul to call home. But now, with his leg a mess, he felt like only half a man. What would he even have to offer a woman? Especially one as vibrant as Macy.

  He missed being part of a family.

  What happened to his parents was never discussed.

  Only a handful of the men he’d served with even knew he’d now lost everyone he’d ever loved. No one realized what a hole that had left inside. As a result, he’d poured everything into serving his country. And he’d done a good job. But now what? His country no longer had use for him, and as far as he could tell, no one else did, either—except for Doc Carthage who viewed his barn as a pet motel.

  “Have you named her yet?” Macy gazed up. Bathed in the sunshine filtering through the wood plank walls, she and her son looked so angelic it took Wiley a moment to catch his breath, let alone comprehend her simple question.

  “I, ah, haven’t. How about you and Henry do the honors?”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure you want an eight-month-old tackling that big of a task. He’s liable to name her Gaa.”

  “I see your point. Okay, you do it.”

  “Let me think...”

  The hound looked content enough to purr from Macy’s attention.

  “I’ve got it,” she said. “Pancake.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Maybe the better question is why? That’s gotta be the stupidest dog name ever.”

  “Here’s why—Henry and I had pancakes for breakfast and when we were leaving the house, I thought I’d gotten all the syrup off from cleaning Henry’s mess, but turns out I was wrong, because Pancake just licked more from my wrist.”

  Her story was so out there that damned if Wiley didn’t find himself smiling again. “All right, you’ve convinced me. Pancake, it is.”

  “She is,” Macy corrected.

  In that single moment, with Henry giggling amongst a pile of puppies and Macy smiling his way, something happened in Wiley that he didn’t quite understand. His chest tightened with what he could only identify as a pang. A soul-deep yearning for that elusive, invisible string tying him to the rest of the world. Sure, he’d belonged to his SEAL team, and they’d formed a family of sorts, but that hadn’t been the same as his folks or grandfather. Or the way Macy held her hand to the crown of Henry’s head, petting the infant’s shock of red hair.

  Just looking at mother and child told him they were a unit. And suddenly, more than anything, he once again wanted to belong. Without his SEAL family, without his real family, he had nothing. And he found that fact deeply, profoundly troubling.

  Macy asked, “Where’d you go just now?”

  Wiley shrugged, then pet Blinkie, who’d once again crashed in his arms. None of that mushy stuff was shareable with her. Besides, even if he did tell her, why would she care? He’d been a total ass to her since the day of their unexpected reunion. “You never did tell me why I deserved that running thank-you on the porch.”

  “Duh? The china? I can’t believe you found two plates to replace the ones that were broken.”

  “Oh.” He’d forgotten. Was his drinking affecting his memory? He needed to stop—soon. “Glad you liked them. I know it’s not the same, but...you know.”

  She left Henry with the puppies to join Wiley for a hug. “Thank you. The gesture was incredibly thoughtful.”

  “You’re welcome.” Of course, the hug was only meant as a casual gesture on her part. So why had his pulse taken off at a gallop?

  “How could I
not?” She was still holding him. And his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. But somehow, the only thing that mattered was the way her soft curves molded against him even though he still held the dog in the crook of one arm. Wiley had held his fair share of women, but never had one fit just right.

  On autopilot, he dipped down, wanting with his whole being to kiss the crown of her head. He stopped just short, though, close enough to breathe her in. She smelled like a strawberry plucked from the garden. The scent took him back to shared picnics with their mothers competing over who made the best shortcake. So much history stood between them. Enough that holding her should have been the most natural thing in the world. But far from it, he didn’t know what to do with his hands that kept creeping closer to the sweet curve of her behind.

  Even worse, her eyes widened as if she anticipated more. She even licked her lips and then held her breath.

  Lord help him, he wanted more, too. But before he went and did something stupid like kiss her, he backed away and cleared his throat.

  He set Blinkie on the barn floor where the mutt stood at Wiley’s feet, looking up expectantly as if he was waiting to be picked up again. “Glad you liked the plates.”

  “You already said that.” Macy frowned. Had she craved that kiss as much as he had?

  “You know how it is.” He whirled his finger next to his head. “All this fresh air must be messing with my mind.”

  “I’ll bet that’s exactly your problem.”

  “Who said I had a problem?”

  She’d just opened her mouth for no doubt her next smart-mouthed retort when she eyed her son fisting dog food into his surprisingly big chops. “Henry, no!”

  In a flash, she’d left Wiley to clear the little guy’s pie hole. The puppy chow must have been tasty as the poor kid seemed about as bereft as Pancake when Macy took away his food.

  She hefted Henry into her arms, rocking him until his cries faded into the occasional offended huff.

  “Remember when I dared you to eat a dog biscuit?” Wiley asked. He hadn’t thought of the incident in years. They’d been at the Eagle Ridge feed store around Christmas, standing in an endless line with Buster and Clem. They’d both been bored, so Wiley had taken a jumbo holiday bone from a promotional bin and presented it to Macy for a dare.

  She made a face. “My burps tasted like chicken-flavored cardboard for a week.”

  “Boo-hoo. At least you didn’t have to pay for the damned—sorry, darned—thing. It was three bucks.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Blinkie yipped at Wiley’s feet. “I can see where this could become a problem.” Wiley used what precious little strength he had to bend from his waist to scoop up the dog. Back in his hold, the annoying yipping stopped.

  Macy laughed. “I’d say you two are a match made in heaven.”

  Wiley shot her a dirty look. “Pretty sure the zoo’s visiting hours are about over.”

  “Oh, don’t revert back to Grumpy Wiley. I’m just teasing—at least about the love match. You might not love him, but Blinkie looks smitten with you.”

  Wiley sighed.

  “Take it as a compliment. Animals seem to know you’re good people, which tells me all your huffing and puffing has been nothing more than a smoke screen you’ve thrown up to hide your real problem.”

  “And I suppose, Dr. Phil, you’re going to tell me what that is?”

  “Wouldn’t take a PhD in psychology or whatever fancy degree he has to know you’re understandably bitter. Life has delivered some incredibly tough blows, but if you’d let me in, I could—”

  “Whoa.” He held up his free hand. “Stop right there. I’m not open to becoming anyone’s charity case.” Wiley was so offended by her casual assessment of his truth, that he turned his back on her to head for the cabin. He’d check on the goat and Pancake later—stupid name for a dog. As for the cranky old horse? She could spend the night in the pasture.

  “Wiley, wait—”

  Wiley kept right on walking.

  Chapter Eight

  “Don’t even think about holing up in that dreary cabin, Wiley James.” Emboldened by her vow to help Wiley dig himself out from under the weight of his depression, Macy wasn’t about to let him run off before he heard what she’d come to say.

  “Too late!” He’d reached the porch steps, probably hurting himself by taking them too fast.

  “Hold on, baby,” she said to her son before launching into the full-out run that allowed her to beat Wiley to his door. Out of breath, she blocked his passage. “You’ve become a grumpy old bear with a thorn in his paw. Why won’t you let me help you get it out?”

  “And just how do you propose to do that? You gonna try more animal therapy, like Doc? Maybe wave a magic wand to put me back on my SEAL team? But hell, if you can do that, why not take me back to the real good old days when my folks and grandpa were still alive and I was a halfway decent bull rider? Now, I doubt I could even climb on a horse.”

  “Stop.”

  “No, Macy, you stop. I’m not a project for you to take on, but a flesh and blood man who’s had everything I’ve ever loved jerked away. How you gonna fix that?”

  She didn’t have a clue, but hoped her hurt stare cut right through him. The faint, boozy aroma of his breath should have sent her running, but the attraction she’d felt for what seemed like forever was too strong to fight.

  When she couldn’t answer, he came back with, “That’s right, you can’t tell me your magical solution. So why don’t you take your smiley baby back home and leave me to stew.”

  “No.” She raised her chin. With her whole heart she suspected her old friend was all bark and no bite. He talked a mean game, but only a good man set up a heating lamp for a dog and worried if his new goat should have a friend. Wiley needed her. Moreover—she needed him. She could fix him from the outside in, and then, just as she’d dreamed all those years ago, the two of them, and now Henry, would all live happily ever after.

  He would never hurt her like Rex. Never.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I’m not going anywhere until you agree to let me help.”

  “Didn’t we just go over this? There’s literally nothing you can do.”

  “What about cooking? You’ve definitely lost a few pounds since I last saw you.”

  “I’m a grown-ass man.” He set Blinkie on one of the wide wooden porch rockers then folded his arms. “I know how to work a can opener.”

  “You can’t live on canned goods alone. It’s not healthy.”

  “Then how’d my granddad make it to ninety-three on pork and beans?”

  “Wiley, please...” Macy bowed her head, resting her chin atop Henry’s curls. Her son patiently lounged in her arms, surprisingly not upset by this latest squabble, but watched them as if the silly grown-ups provided good entertainment.

  “What? What the hell do you want from me? This afternoon, this little bit of civility, it’s all I’ve got. I get the feeling you’re trying to mold me into some version of the kid you used to know, but a whole lot of water’s flowed under that bridge. Even if I’d left the Navy whole, I still wouldn’t be complete. I’ve seen and done things...” He stopped when his red-rimmed eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “I don’t care what happened,” she murmured, swallowing a huge lump in her throat. Her heart ached for this strong, proud man. “And okay, so yeah, maybe I did think just hanging out with you could possibly solve part of your problems, but don’t insult me by acting as if I thought mere conversation could ever make you whole.”

  “Then why are you here? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  “Because I can’t!” Her vehemence startled Henry into tears. She soothed the baby, but refused to stop what she’d only just started with this stubborn, infuriating, fascinating man. Call he
r crazy, but she truly believed she had something special to offer. If he’d drop his guard long enough to let her in, wonderful things might happen. He’d stop drinking and start living. “Talk to me. We’re two reasonably intelligent people. Let’s figure something out to make your life better. Your doctor had to have given you stretching exercises, right? Maybe I could help with those? I don’t mind cooking extra when I make meals, and we could both use each other’s help in our gardens. There’s summer canning to do and fences to maintain. After all of that, I still have to spin yarn and knit a gazillion more sweaters before autumn. The sheer volume of work around my place makes my head spin. How can you not feel the same?”

  “Honestly?” He laughed, then plucked up the dog to practically fall into the rocker. “I do my best not to feel at all. Makes life a whole lot easier.”

  “That’s unacceptable.” She sat in the rocker beside him. “There have been a few times I thought I’ve smelled alcohol on your breath. Have you been drinking to escape?” Her heart pounded while waiting for his answer.

  He leaned his head back and sighed, all the while rubbing the scruff of his newest dog’s neck. “What if I have? Last I checked, I’m over twenty-one.”

  “You also have a father who accidentally killed your mom and himself while drunk driving. I would think of all people, you’d be the last person to drown your sorrows in a bottle, considering most of your earliest sorrows were caused by one.” She’d gone too far and said too much.

  Macy tensed, waiting for Wiley to blow, but he didn’t.

  Instead, he hunched over the sweet little dog and released a strangled, guttural cry that hurt far worse than any of his sharpest verbal arrows.

  Henry had drifted off to sleep, so she left the porch to tuck him safely into his car seat. She covered him from the approaching night’s damp chill, left the truck door open, then jogged the few feet back to the porch, to Wiley.

  She knelt before him, twining her arms through his in an awkward hug. The dog had stilled, eyes wide, leaning into the wall of Wiley’s stomach.

  Wiley’s sobs went on for as long as he needed, and when they finally stopped, she was still there, combing her fingers through his hair and rubbing his back and pressing soft kisses to the top of his head.

 

‹ Prev