Cowboy SEAL Daddy

by Laura Marie Altom

  “That’s a positive way of looking at it.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Then there’s Mom. While I’m here. I need to have a hard talk with her. I’m not sure she’s capable of caring for the ranch on her own, and I’ve got almost seventeen months left on my current enlistment before I could even think about getting out here to help.”

  “Is that something you see yourself doing? Retiring from the navy to live here?”

  He released a troubled sigh. “I always planned on putting in my twenty years before leaving the military, but now? I’m not sure. I love what I do. But there’s something about being on the back of a horse first thing in the morning. There’s a fine mist rising off the land, and for miles in every direction there’s not a soul around, not a creature stirring save for maybe an eagle soaring far above your head. You get this gut-deep feeling of truth. As if you’re one with the earth. It’s profound.” He swiped tears with the backs of his hands. “Lord... This whole thing with my dad is getting to me. I sound nuttier than a peanut butter cookie.”

  “Not really. If anything, you made me want to share your experience. Arizona should pay you to be a travel spokesperson.”

  “Sounds about right. Funny how when you’re a stupid kid, you fight so damned hard to get away from a place, then once you grow up, all you want to do is get back.”

  “Hmm...” She rubbed her baby bump.

  “How about you? Anyplace special in your past?”

  “Nope.” Was now the right time to confide in him about her rocky history? Or never? It wasn’t as if they’d be together long-term. The fewer people who knew about her mother, the better.

  Wayne cleared his throat. “A while back, at one of your pool parties—that one when Monica bought you the car you didn’t accept?”

  “Yes?” Why did she have the feeling she wouldn’t like what he was about to say next?”

  “She mentioned a bit about your mom I’m guessing you wouldn’t have appreciated getting out. She’d had a fair amount to drink—you know Monica when she doesn’t get what she sets her sights on... Anyway, if you ever want to talk about it, seeing how I’ve got my own fair share of ghosts haunting my closet, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Just how much did he know?

  She’d be mortified if he discovered her mother’s full story. The worst of it was thankfully over, but the shame remained. No matter how much Paisley distanced herself from her past, she somehow always ended up feeling as if she were right back on the wrong side of the tracks. All she’d ever wanted was to feel respectable. To feel part of a real family. Part of something bigger than herself. As if she finally belonged.

  Was that too much to ask?

  Apparently so.

  Hugging her baby, she swallowed the knot in her throat.

  “What’s got you so deep in thought?” Wayne asked.

  “The weather.”

  “Humph.” His narrowed-eyed stare called her out. “That’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Seven

  Driving the last few miles down the ranch’s winding dirt road might as well have been Christmas as opposed to almost Easter. That was how exited Wayne felt by the prospect of once again seeing his parents and this wondrous place.

  Towering copper-toned rock formations set the backdrop for emerald pastures nourishing some of the finest breeding cattle in the country. Crayola couldn’t invent a sky color more perfectly, dazzlingly blue.

  He rolled down the windows to get his first taste of the smell—to others, that might seem like an odd way to describe the scent of a place, but that’s the way it made him feel. That’s how potent it was. As if he could taste and smell the ponderosa pine and grass and soil and clean air all at once.

  “Wayne, roll up your window! You’re wrecking my hair, and your mom’s going to think I’m a savage.” Paisley cupped her hands to her head.

  “What are you talking about?” By way of compromise, he rolled up her window. “We went through a damned sandstorm back at the truck stop.”

  “That was different. I could control which direction my hair was flowing.”

  “Please, hush. You’re running the moment.”

  “The moment? Hate to burst your bubble there, cowboy, but we’ve been on a tooth-rattling dirt road for—Oh my...”

  “Told you.” He glanced her way, beaming with pride. “Behold. Rio Bravo Ranch.” He added in a teasing tone, “In case I failed to mention it, my dad has a thing for John Wayne.”

  “That’s adorable.”

  “Not so much when you lived with him.” Wayne laughed.

  “You said it was a house, but this is a hacienda. Look at all the arches and the tile roof. It’s so romantic. I see why Monica wanted her wedding here.”

  Wayne laughed. “No kidding, right? I can’t blame her.”

  His father had the place custom built over decades, paying as he went along. The bedrooms, kitchen and living areas all wound around a center courtyard that, besides ranching, had been his dad’s life passion. The summer garden with its center three-tier fountain was spectacular.

  “I can’t wait to explore.”

  “I can’t wait to guide you.”

  He enjoyed her smile a little too much.

  Wait—was that even a thing?

  Rounding the bend that would give Paisley her first view of the hundred-year-old barn Wayne and his parents lived in before building the house, he caught himself momentarily holding his breath. He couldn’t wait for her reaction to not just the impressive historic structure, but the majestic panoramic view of what felt like the entire Prescott National Forest. “Well? What do you think?”

  Having seen the view himself, just this once, he looked to her, and was beyond disappointed.

  “I’m horrified. Wayne, I’m so sorry.”

  “What do you—” He turned to look in the direction she was staring. Are you kidding me? The normally postcard-perfect view of big skies and grazing horses and far-off, snowcapped mountains had been defiled by a half-dozen trucks with Boutique Bridal written in giant hot pink script across the sides. Around those trucks were delivery vans and a whipped-up hornet’s nest of frenzied workers. “Is all of this Monica’s doing?”

  “Probably a safe bet. But please don’t be too hard on her.”

  He coughed to keep from releasing a string of expletives. “Can you imagine what the stress of this is doing to my poor parents?”

  She winced. “On the bright side, maybe it’s taken their minds off the inevitable?”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Relax. Forget about Monica and Logan’s Godzilla-sized wedding and let’s focus on having a successful first meeting as a couple with your mom and dad. We probably should at the very first hold hands. Maybe even throw in a little canoodling.”

  “What’s that?” he asked while driving his truck around to the side of the house where his dad had positioned the garage so as not to mar the front facade.

  “Canoodling? I’m not sure of the actual definition. It’s like when couples aren’t really all over each other per se, but kinda cuddly. Like you might spontaneously kiss my cheek. And I might rub your shoulder or chest.”

  “Interesting.”

  “We don’t have to. But it might add a more realistic touch to what’s starting to feel like a sinking ship.”

  “Toss in more of what happened the other night, and I think I like canoodling.” He grinned before parking the truck, turning off the engine, then climbing out. “Hang tight. In case Mom’s on her way outside, you should let me help you.”

  “Agreed.”

  Just as his mother burst out the home’s side door, Wayne opened Paisley’s door for her to slide into his waiting arms. Their timing was perfect. But nothing beat the all-too-pleasurable sensation of holding Paisley again.

  “Wayne! You’re fi
nally here. And Paisley! Welcome to the family, honey. Peter and I couldn’t be more thrilled to have you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brustanovitch.”

  “Pease, call me Jules. And let me see that gorgeous engagement ring.”

  Wayne would be first to admit feeling like a jackass for duping his mom—especially when he’d never seen her happier. Hugging Paisley raised a glow to her cheeks and sparkle to her blue eyes like he hadn’t seen since introducing her to Chelsea, yet look how that turned out. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s coming. You know your father. He’s got himself knee-deep in all the festivities. Last I saw he was making sure no one upset Bruce.”

  “Who’s Bruce?” Paisley asked. Per the canoodling plan, she took his hand, resting her head against his shoulder. He, in turn, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a light, reassuring squeeze. Yes, this was good. Maybe a little too good, judging by cravings to practice honeymoon techniques.

  “Peter’s prized bull. I swear that animal gets more attention than the rest of us combined.”

  “While Dad’s not here...” Wayne bowed his head, unsure how to broach the elephant in the room of his father’s disease. “How’s he doing?”

  “Fine. Not that he’d ever let you know it, but on chilly mornings his arthritis bothers him. I tell him to spend a little less time in the saddle and more time golfing with his buddies, but he refuses to listen.”

  Wayne and Paisley shared a look.

  “Guess if that’s all he has to complain about, that’s good.”

  “Come on in. Paisley, I’m sure you’re exhausted from that drive, so I’ve got your room ready. Wayne, you’re bunking in your old room. No funny business before the wedding.” His mother wagged her finger, then winked.

  Once Wayne’s mom had Paisley settled in a guest room with a stunning view of Mount Rockwell, promising to return with fresh-baked cookies, he made quick work of retrieving all the luggage.

  Finished, he found Paisley stretched across the bed looking her usual adorably mussed self while reading a magazine with her swollen feet up on a pillow.

  “Did you catch that?” He closed the door.

  “About your dad?” She tossed her magazine aside to sit up—or, at least, try. He perched on the bed beside her. “I looked for him, and he’s nowhere in that crowd. Where would he go? Last time we talked, he said he was practically on life support.”

  “None of this makes sense.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Want to go look for him together?”

  He pointed to her feet. “According to the expectant mother guide I read, you shouldn’t be going anywhere with those swollen ankles. What’s the technical term again? Cankles?”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a near growl. “Help me up. Besides, I want to visit with your mom and see the rest of the house and grounds before dark.”

  He stood, then held out his hand. “When do Monica and Logan get in?”

  “First thing in the morning. Monica’s dad’s flying most of her family in to a local airstrip. Clip’s?”

  “Clem’s—named after his daughter, Clementine. We dated in tenth grade.”

  “Should I be jealous?”

  “Absolutely. That girl could calf rope like nobody’s business. I always did mean to date a rodeo queen. She won a few crowns the summer before our senior year. Maybe I should look her up while I’m in town?”

  “Stop.” She elbowed him. “You’re almost a pretend married man.”

  “Relax.” He winked. “Last I heard, I’m pretty sure she’s a for-real married woman with three kids and a one-eyed dog named Peanut. I know because she also happens to be the woman who keeps my mom perpetually blonde.”

  “You’re awful.” On their way out of the room, Paisley elbowed him again. Oddly enough, Wayne didn’t mind. He kind of liked teasing her. She made him—if for only a few minutes—forget the harsh reality he faced in accepting the serious nature of his dad’s condition.

  That said, as he took her hand, guiding her through the single-level home’s maze of rooms to the kitchen, Wayne had to remind himself that none of this was real. No matter how warm and fuzzy being with Paisley made him feel, that didn’t change the fact that he’d thought he’d been in love once before and he’d been wrong.

  Moral of the story? There was no such thing as lasting love. Sure—maybe in rare cases like with his folks, but even they were doomed to have their hearts broken.

  With his dad gone, his poor mom may never recover.

  He owed it to his mother to shield his own heart. To stay strong.

  On their way through the living room, Paisley paused, taking in the same view that had gotten him through multiple tours in Iraq. Sunlight kissed her coppery hair, making a few strands look as lucky and shiny as a new penny. One of his favorite things about her was that she had no idea just how lovely she really was.

  In another time, he could have totally seen himself with her. Now it was too late for them both. They’d been through too much to ever wipe their emotional slates clean. On their picnic, Paisley had said she was all for giving love another shot, but for the life of him, he didn’t understand why. As her friend, he’d even go so far as to say he felt honor bound to dissuade her.

  “When our engagement is done,” he asked, “do you think you’ll date?”

  “Probably not right away. The baby will need all of my attention for a while.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “With the baby?” Her eyes widened as if he’d suggested assisting her with her next decorating project.

  “Would that be so awful? You mentioned wanting a father in his life. Well—I can’t be that, but I could make a great father figure. We’ll play catch. I’ll take him fishing. That kind of stuff.”

  She grinned. “You do know he’s not popping out of the womb ready for bro dates?”

  “You know what I mean. All I’m saying is that I’m not going anywhere. You made that promise to me and I’m repaying the favor. I’ll help with other stuff, too. Diapers. Baths. Babysitting if you need to run to the store. Whatever.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” Her smile seemed different. Easier. More relaxed. He liked it. In the future, he’d enjoy seeing more of the same.

  “You’re welcome.” Wayne realized he still held her hand. He should have let go, but he hadn’t.

  “I thought I heard voices.” Wayne’s mom entered the room. “Paisley, hon, I thought you were napping.”

  “I tried, but somebody—” she elbowed Wayne “—is so excited for me to get reacquainted with his dad and see the rest of your gorgeous house and land that he woke me. I’m supposed to be getting a tour, but this is as far as we’ve gotten.”

  “This has always been one of my favorite rooms. Peter got the beams for the ceiling from a local forest after a fire. Once he scraped down the charred outer layers, underneath was such beauty.” Wayne watched Paisley looking at the stucco-and-beamed ceiling. He and his dad had spent weeks high on a ladder, hand-oiling the beams till they shone. The thought of his looming death was inconceivable.

  It was—A sob escaped him.

  “Sweetie?” his mom asked.

  “Babe?” Paisley rubbed his back, her voice laced with concern.

  “I’m good,” he said. “It’s just a lot. I don’t know how you’re keeping it together.”

  “Keeping what together? Hon, I don’t know—”

  “There my big, strapping hunk of American boy! Look how you grow! Come here to Papa.” For his and Paisley’s benefit, Wayne assumed his dad must be forcing his good cheer. Wayne went to him, crushing him in a hug. He’d missed everything about him from his thick Russian accent to his rich pipe tobacco smell. “It so good to see you. And you—” He released his son to turn his attention to Paisley. “Let me have a feel of my grandson. You name hi
m John Wayne Jr., no?”

  “Um, no? Yes? I’m not really sure?” Laughing, Paisley held out her hand for him to shake. “Either way, it’s nice seeing you again.”

  “No handshake with family. You my daughter. Hug only.” Wayne fought back fresh tears at the sight of his dad and Paisley’s warm embrace. She was amazing for doing this for him. Now that he had a closer look at his father, he noticed that his complexion did seem unnaturally pale. In his condition, Wayne supposed it was to be expected. “Come, let us eat. Your momma made delicious stew. My Wayne’s favorite. We eat fancy food with strangers tomorrow. But tonight, for family. Tonight, we celebrate our new daughter and baby cowboy!”

  * * *

  PAISLEY WASN’T SURE what she’d expected from her initial reaction to Wayne’s family ranch or spending quality time with his actual family, but as she sat at the rough-hewn pine kitchen table, watching them all flow through dinner cleanup with the ease of people who’ve lived and loved together for years, an old familiar pang hurt deep inside her.

  This is what she’d wanted for herself and Dr. Dirtbag and their child. The kind of belonging that no amount of money could buy. The only price was love. Her mother had sadly never learned that lesson.

  Peter was utterly charming, and putting on such a brave front. His complexion wasn’t right. A pasty gray. When even Jules commented he didn’t look well, he’d told her that as soon as his grandson was born, he would feel like a new man. Judging by his big smile, he meant it, which put even more pressure on Paisley to deliver a stellar performance.

  At the same time, watching this tight unit of three wash dishes and wipe down counters, a small voice inside played devil’s advocate. What happened if Wayne got the miracle he’d been seeking and Peter did survive?

  At what point did she and Wayne come clean?

  When she’d first arrived on their ranch carrying the lie, she’d considered it a mercy mission. Now she wasn’t so sure. The thought of these kindhearted people opening their home and lives to her when she was a fraud was mortifying. It made her feel as if at her core, she was no better than her mom. It didn’t matter that this lie had been intended to help Peter.