The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “I feel kind of guilty.”

  “About leaving Henry?” He spun her, riding out the pain of his romantic gesture.

  “A little. But mostly, not telling Mom and Dad. I’m sure they’d love to be here.”

  “Want me to call them? Invite them up?” Please refuse that offer. His pulse raced for the few seconds it took her to make a decision. This charade was bad enough for him to tackle on his own. Toss her family into the mix, and he’d run for the hills—only, that might be kind of tough, considering his bad leg and the fact that they were already on top of a mountain.

  “You’re sweet to ask, but no. Dad seems to think you might be damaged from what you went through. Once you’re already my husband, he’ll be forced to get to know you without bringing along his preconceived theories about your mental well-being.”

  “That was quite a mouthful.” He dipped her back, forcing his facial expression to remain mellow when he wanted to scream. He needed another pill. Or a drink. Preferably, both. “Good to know my future father-in-law thinks I’m a head case.”

  “Lucky for you—” she stopped dancing to deliver a kiss “—there are only two members of the Shelton family you have to please. Henry, and me.”

  The song ended and Wiley struggled for the right words. When he couldn’t find any, he settled on kissing Macy, then excusing himself. Before he could work on making her happy, he had to squelch this pain.

  * * *

  “SURE YOU DON’T want to come in?” Just inside the honeymoon suite, Macy tried striking a seductive, beckoning pose, but ended up laughing. She hated that Wiley insisted on separate rooms for the night, but applauded his old-fashioned gesture. “Sorry. I meant to look irresistible—not like a clown.”

  “You look beautiful.” He drew her into his arms for a lingering kiss that left no doubt he’d rather stay. “Take tonight to make sure you’re solid with this decision.”

  “Wait—” She searched his face. “Is that your polite way of telling me you’re having second thoughts?”

  “Not at all.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I just think you need this space. All of this has happened pretty fast—not that I’m complaining. So, with that said, enjoy this great room, and think of me slumming it downstairs.” He winked.

  She needed to feel her lips against his once more before calling it a night, so she wrapped her arms around his neck, gliding her fingers into his hair, drawing him toward her for a lingering promise of the shared lifetime yet to come.

  “Good night,” she said.

  “Sweet dreams.” With one last kiss, he gave her a light push into her room and then shut the door.

  For an instant, her every instinct screamed to chase after him, because his leaving didn’t feel right and his tongue tasted boozy. But then she forced a deep breath, and looked at the magnificent space and realized what a gift Wiley had given.

  She did need this lone night to remind herself she wasn’t just a mom or soon-to-be-wife, but herself. How long had it been since she’d had time to soak in the tub or stare at the stars?

  Tonight, she’d do both.

  The room was opulent to the extreme. Whereas her cabin felt cozy, but sometimes claustrophobic with its low ceilings and small spaces, this vaulted space soared. Come morning, the wall of windows would offer a gasp-worthy mountain view. But for now, she enjoyed the small fire housekeeping had made in the stone hearth, and the way the armchair she’d sat in was deep enough to bring on instant relaxation.

  How amazing was this whole turn of events?

  She hopped up from the chair and raced to the king-size bed. Wrapping herself in the faux-fur throw, she jumped on the cranberry-colored floral spread, giggling like a schoolgirl.

  Tired, she collapsed onto the pillowy mattress, but refused to stop smiling. How could she, when her every dream was coming true?

  * * *

  “DO YOU HAVE the ring?”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Wiley had temporarily zoned out on his vows. The views were that spectacular—not just the mountains, but his bride. To ensure pain didn’t cause him to ruin Macy’s special day, he’d taken four pills.

  The preacher cleared his throat. “The ring? I’ll need you to slip it on Macy’s finger.”

  “Oh, sure. Right.” Wiley took it from the front pocket of his best jeans. After they’d gotten their rings at a shopping center jeweler, he’d been ordered to stay in the truck while she’d run into a department store for her dress. Instead of doing as she’d told him, he’d doubled back to buy her a fancy engagement ring. “Here you go, only looks like your wedding ring found a friend.”

  She gasped. “Wiley! What did you do?”

  Her hand trembled while he slipped on her rings. He leaned in to kiss her. “For all the tasty meals you’ve cooked for me, baby, you deserve the biggest diamond I could find.” He punctuated his sentence with a nice, juicy kiss.

  The preacher cleared his throat. “Could we please hold off on the smooches until after the ceremony?”

  “Oh, sure. Sorry.” Wiley stepped back from his bride.

  The rest of the ceremony passed in a fog, and then Macy was crying, and they were kissing before the rising sun, and the whole world rose before them.

  “I didn’t know life could be this good,” she said.

  “It’s only going to get better,” he promised.

  The lodge had prepared a big breakfast spread. Pancakes, biscuits and gravy, sausage and bacon and eggs, along with fresh fruit cut into fancy shapes that made Macy’s smile all the brighter.

  The lodge’s other guests formed a receiving line and fussed over Macy’s dress and hair. Wiley thanked them all from the bottom of his heart for helping to make her day special.

  When he finally got his bride alone at their table for two that had been set up beside the steaming pool, he couldn’t stop staring. “You look so freakin’ pretty.”

  “Thank you.” She raised her champagne to him, then took a sip. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “You’re the real star.” He held out his hand for her, and when their fingers touched, the erotic jolt damn near had him tossing her over his shoulder to take back to their room. “You picked a good dress.”

  “You picked a good ring.” She released him to hold out her hand, letting her diamond catch the sun. “I don’t need it, but I sure do like it.”

  “I’m glad. That was the plan.” They ate in companionable silence, taking in each other and the majestic view of snow-capped peaks and fog-shrouded valleys. The air was clean and crisp with the promise of warmth and the scent of the nearby pine forest.

  “What are we going to do today?” she asked.

  “I talked to the concierge, and he set up a couple of things. First, we’re taking a champagne hike, then—”

  “Are you sure you feel up for that?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Your leg?”

  He waved off her concern. “Let me worry about it. If we only get one day for a honeymoon, I want it to be good. So after the hike, we’re renting a boat and having a late lunch on the lake. When’s the last time you went sailing?”

  “Try never. But I’m game to try.”

  “Good. After breakfast, we’ll change clothes, then get started.”

  “Okay, but...” She put the strawberry she’d been about to eat on the side of her plate. “Isn’t there something you’d rather do?”

  “Like what?” He couldn’t imagine cramming one more activity into their day.

  “You know...” She pressed the issue—literally—by placing her suddenly bare foot on his crotch. “Are you mean enough to make me come out and say it?”

  He coughed.

  “Is there some reason you don’t want to...”

  “No. Not at all.” Only there wa
s. His stupid pride preferred not to talk about it, but now that they were married, he supposed the issue might be tough to hide.

  “Wait—” She glanced around to make sure none of the other guests were within earshot. “You don’t have an issue with getting it...up?” She reddened when his horndog little cowboy decided to giddyup against the sole of her foot.

  “No. No way.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “But even if you did. We could work through it. So what’s wrong?”

  “All right...” He exhaled. “I wanted to wait until after dark to make this marriage official because my leg isn’t the way it used to be when we swam together as kids.”

  “Let me get this straight—you’re stalling because you’re afraid I’ll be put off by a few scars?” She put down her fork to glare. “It hurts that you think I’m so shallow.”

  “You don’t understand. We’re not talking about a few little scars, Mace. My leg was barely saved from amputation. It’s an ugly mess. Hell...” He downed his champagne. “Part of me feels guilty for letting you marry me without first sampling the goods.”

  “Good.” She laughed. “Then we’re even, because I feel the same. I mean, how many brides do you know who did the proposing?”

  He laughed, too, which felt cleansing. Truth be told, spending last night alone hadn’t been so much about her, but him working up the courage to see this thing through. He wasn’t sure why she wanted to marry him, or what she even saw in him that she found likable. Standing her up at the altar would have been doing her a favor, but as tenderhearted as she was, he also knew it would have gutted her, and he respected her too much to bring her that kind of pain.

  Oh—and you think once she discovers she’s married an alcoholic drug addict, she’ll be happy?

  From behind them, someone popped a champagne cork. The sudden noise startled him to the point that he almost grabbed Macy to take cover beneath the table. Shit.

  Realizing the only pending danger was in his head, he poured fresh bubbly for them both, then proposed a toast. “Here’s to the trickster in both of us.”

  “I’ll drink to that, but only if you promise to take me upstairs for a proper bridal ravishing.”

  He winked. “I think that could be arranged.”

  * * *

  IN THEIR SUITE, the daytime view was everything Macy had known it would be, yet she only had eyes for her husband.

  Like he had the night before, he ushered her into the room, but this time he followed, closing the door behind him.

  He was her every fantasy come to life in new Wranglers, black boots and a starched white button-down. He’d combed his longish hair back for the occasion, and even groomed his stubble. His dark eyes pierced straight through, making her want him a hundred different ways. She had never desired a man more.

  She sucked in a swift breath, willing her runaway pulse to slow when she wasn’t quite sure how to make the next move. But then Wiley approached, holding out his hands, and brandishing that sexy-slow grin she’d always adored.

  “Ready for this?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Want music?”

  She shook her head.

  “More champagne?”

  “No...”

  “This?” He stepped around behind her, unzipping her chaste white dress. She’d picked it because of the old-fashioned scoop neckline and long, flared skirt. It made her feel as if she’d stepped back in time. She couldn’t be much more nervous than if she was a virgin all over again.

  His warm knuckles grazed her cool back, and she shivered.

  He pressed warm kisses down her spine. “Cold?”

  “A little.” She held up her bodice. The dress had a built-in bra, so beneath it, she wore nothing but lacy pale blue panties.

  “Are these your something blue?” He’d kissed his way to them.

  “Yes.”

  He rose to roll the dress from her shoulders. “What’s your something old?”

  “Grandma’s pearls.”

  “New is your dress.” It landed in a puddle on the floor.

  She nodded.

  “Which leaves your something borrowed.” He took off his shirt.

  The breadth of his chest left her tongue-tied.

  Feeling shy, she held her hands over her breasts.

  “Mace? Borrowed?”

  “Oh—my hair comb. It’s Wendy’s.”

  “Pretty.” He gave it a tug, spilling her long hair about her shoulders. “Just like you.” He kissed a new trail across her collarbone and then up her throat, in the process pulling down her hands, easing his fingers between hers.

  Sun slanted through the wall of windows in a wide swath, and he lifted her only to set her in the spot where it met the foot of the bed. The sunshine’s warmth calmed her nerves and reminded her she had nothing to fear.

  This was Wiley.

  Her oldest, dearest friend. And now, her husband.

  “The years have been a lot kinder to you than me.” As if surveying a buffet, he stepped back to appraise her.

  Shyness kicked in, and she once again raised her hands, but he drew them down.

  “Let me see.” He ran his hand across her rounded belly and along the in-and-out curve of her hips.

  “You know how you feel bashful about your leg? I have the same hang-ups. Having a baby didn’t do me any favors. I still could lose thirty pounds and my stretch marks are—”

  He kissed her quiet. “Stop putting down my wife.”

  “Your wife.” She let that sink in. How many times had she written Mrs. Wiley James and Mrs. Macy James across the insides of her notebook when she’d been bored in algebra class?

  “That’s right. Which means I’m now legally allowed to do this...” He trailed his tongue along the underside of one breast, then the other before suckling so hard on her nipple that moisture pooled between her legs.

  “Yes, please,” she practically purred, happy for him to do whatever he wanted all day long.

  She quickly forgot to be shy when he made her feel if she didn’t soon have him inside her, she’d lose what little was left of her sanity.

  He removed his jeans and boxers, then joined her on the bed. A glimpse of his poor leg was all she needed to understand why he hadn’t wanted her to see. The scarring was bad enough for her to realize the fresh injury must have been unfathomable. The ghost of what he’d been through tightened her throat, but for his sake, she wouldn’t let sorrow take away one speck of this moment’s joy.

  He pressed his lips to hers as he cupped her belly, then he said, “Hold up. Let me grab a condom.”

  “No. I’m good.”

  “Sure?”

  She nodded.

  She’d barely wondered if he wasn’t sure—about conceiving a child with her—when he eased down the length of her, lavishing attention to her belly, and then lower. By the time he drew her panties down, tossing them to join her dress on the floor, she was more than ready to have him on top of her, and he obliged.

  Her worries about how they’d connect without hurting his leg were unfounded. The deeper he drove, the more connected with him she felt. She dug her fingers into his back, urging him on with each thrust.

  It had been so long since she’d been with a man that she felt brand-new. Wiley made lovemaking fresh and clean and pure.

  When her orgasm struck, the intensity brought tears.

  Wiley stiffened and moaned. He kissed her cheeks and forehead and finally, her lips. “You taste like tears. Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m happy. So happy.”

  “I’m glad.” He cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, wishing she could encapsulate this wondrous feeling and keep it always with her.

  He kissed the crown of he
r head. “Ready for our hike?”

  “Not quite yet...”

  Leisurely kisses led to making love all over again, and then soaking in the roomy tub. By the time they’d both dressed for the rest of the day, it was practically time for lunch.

  “When were we supposed to meet our guide?” Macy asked on the way down the lodge’s wide staircase.

  “Two hours ago.”

  She cast him an over-the-shoulder grin. “Oops.”

  He landed a light smack to her behind. The newly emerged naughty girl in her liked it! What other surprises would her marriage bring?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The waterfall was pretty and majestic and all that, but the powerful roar made Wiley uneasy. The inescapable noise brought back the past he’d worked hard to forget.

  While waiting for their guide, Macy had called Wendy to check on Henry. Wiley used the moment alone to take two more pain pills. As amazing as their morning together had been, it was also that exhausting. Thank God, his bride hadn’t noticed him break out in a cold sweat from exertion.

  He was pathetic.

  Did she love him? Or feel sorry for him?

  He honestly couldn’t tell.

  But relief was kicking in. And that was good.

  He closed his eyes, soaking in the sun, willing away images fighting to overtake the happy day.

  The ground beneath him trembled. Fire was everywhere. Smoke made it impossible to breathe. He clawed at his throat, but there was no air. Crow? Where is he? I have to find—

  “Wiley, scoot closer. I want a great picture to frame and put on the mantel.”

  His exit from the grisly scene was slow. There was so much blood. Why wouldn’t the ground stop shaking?

  “Wiley? Come closer. What’s wrong? You look like you’re in another world.”

  “No. I’m good.” Crow and those poor kids were long in their graves and in a better place where chaos didn’t rule.

  He glanced up to find their guide waving him next to Macy, so he slipped his arm around her for what he hoped was the quintessential honeymoon pose. For her sake, he had to keep it together. Soon enough, they’d leave the waterfall’s roar to enjoy the rest of the day on a nice, peaceful boat, where he could hopefully grab a nap.