by Tina Leonard
Pandora wished she were as confident with the trust he placed in her as Calder. Though in her head, she’d put her past firmly behind her, in her heart the fallout still remained.
Rocking Quinn, she asked, “How can you stand being away from this cutie?”
For a split second, Calder looked blank. “I, ah, guess for what I do, I don’t have a lot of options. Come on, I’ll show you the kitchen.”
Pandora followed, trailing her fingertips along white walls. Had Calder already painted the hall? Somehow she couldn’t imagine the same person who’d attacked her room with color being satisfied with a vanilla thoroughfare.
In the kitchen, Calder said, “Nothing fancy here. I don’t expect you to cook for me. Just make sure Quinn gets decent meals. I set up a household account at the bank. You can use it for groceries, diapers—whatever else we need around here or for Quinn.”
She nodded, though inside, she felt as if she may be dreaming. How many nights had she gone to bed hungry because she had no cash for food?
You sure managed to scrape up enough dough for other things, her conscience was all too happy to point out.
Fighting fire with fire, she squelched the seemingly constant voice in her head, reminding her she was destined to fail, by saying, “Thanks again for this opportunity. I’ll care for Quinn as if he were my own.”
Wrong choice of words considering what had happened to her sweet Julia. She squelched that thought, too.
“I’m pretty sure I should be thanking you.” He fished a key from a meticulously organized drawer, handing it to her. “Everyone I know with kids says the agency you work for doesn’t fool around when it comes to hiring the most qualified people.”
Pandora knew that to be true. Her best friend, Natalie, put all of her employees through extensive background checks. She feared the only reason Natalie had hired Pandora was because of the friendship they’d struck up at the restaurant where Pandora waited tables. But no matter how many times Natalie assured Pandora that wasn’t the case, or how much additional training she’d done on her own, she never quite felt part of acceptable society—or worthy of receiving good fortune.
* * *
“WELL? YOU EVER going to tell me how the interview went?”
Pandora glanced up from cramming her few books into a box to find Natalie seated on the halfway house’s twin bed. She may have offered to help, but so far had done nothing but talk. “Obviously, it was good, or Calder wouldn’t have hired me.”
“Duh. I’m the one who filled out the paperwork. I want the inside scoop. Did you find out what happened with Quinn’s mom? I kept waiting for an explanation, but he never told me.”
“I asked, but Calder said he’d talk about it later.” Pandora purposely left out the part about the beers. No need for her friend to worry about her returning to the dark side.
“Interesting.” Natalie tapped her index finger against her lips. “Wonder what happened for her to leave? The guy’s so handsome it hurts to look at him. Don’t you think?”
“No,” Pandora lied. In truth, not only was Calder easy on the eyes, but her cheeks flamed at the mere memory of the heat caused by just shaking his hand. “Even if I did, what would I do about it? Don’t you have a strict nonfraternization policy with clients?”
“True, and I appreciate you pointing that out, but you’d have to be a zombie not to have at least noticed that killer grin—and the width of his shoulders. Dear Lord...” Natalie fanned herself.
Pandora pitched a pillow at her usually more serious friend. “Knock it off. All you need to know is that Calder seems to be a great guy, and the fact that he hired me is a miracle.” She swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay.
“You deserve every ounce of good that’s been happening for you lately.” Standing, her friend ambushed Pandora with a sideways hug. “I never would’ve suggested you for this job if I didn’t think you were capable of handling it.”
“Thanks.” Pandora sniffled and nodded. “But it’s hard, you know? And I didn’t expect that. For years, I’ve dreamed of living a normal life and now that I’m getting out of here and moving into this adorable home with an even cuter baby, I...” Her blessings plate felt inordinately full. The only thing missing was her daughter. But not for long, she promised herself.
* * *
PANDORA WOKE THE next morning at five. Calder said she didn’t need to be at his house until seven, but excitement refused to grant another minute’s sleep.
She and Natalie had packed all her belongings into five boxes—including her toiletries. Calder had offered to help her move, but she was embarrassed not only about where she lived, but how little she actually owned, so she’d declined.
She took a quick shower, dressed, brushed her teeth, blow-dried her hair and put it in a quick ponytail and carted the boxes to her car, then stripped her bed, swept the floor and wiped down all flat surfaces. Since she’d spoken with the house counselor and completed all necessary release paperwork the previous night, by six, she’d said her goodbyes to the few women who were awake, then turned in her key. Once in her car, headed toward her new home, she never looked back.
That part of her life was over and she never wanted to revisit it. Never wanted the shame of being forced by her own poor choices to live in a group home again.
She merged onto the highway and made it to Calder’s Norfolk neighborhood thirty-five minutes ahead of schedule. She passed the time by driving around, admiring the tidy neighborhood and park close enough for her to take Quinn to play. She’d have so much fun caring for him and Calder’s home that it hardly seemed fair for her to accept a salary.
Pulling her car into Calder’s driveway filled her with a kind of quiet satisfaction she’d never known. The only thing better would be having a home of her own—which she would, but this made a great first step.
The redbrick house featured large-paned windows with white shutters. The postage-stamp-size yard was neat with box hedges lining the foundation, but the flower beds were bare save for a few hardy weeds. She wondered if Calder would mind if she and Quinn planted fall flowers. She’d always loved pansies.
“Hey, you’re early.”
Pandora had been deep in her daydream when her new boss stepped barefoot and bare chested onto the front porch. Wearing khaki cargo pants, he carried a sleepy Quinn still dressed in footy pajamas. If she’d thought the home a lovely sight, the man and his son were downright mesmerizing. Mouth dry, she took a moment to even form words. It sounded cliché, but she honestly hadn’t known men had arms and chests so muscular outside of movies.
Quinn rubbed his eyes and whimpered.
“He’s been cranky this morning.” Calder took the few porch steps with ease, offering her his son. “You handle him and I’ll unload your stuff.”
“I—I can get it.” Would he find it odd she owned so few belongings? “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“No worries.” Handing her the baby, he said, “We’re in this together now.” Eyeing the barely full backseat, he asked, “This it? Or do you have a friend with a truck coming later?”
“That’s all.” She jiggled Quinn, coaxing out a smile.
The infant grabbed her glasses, giggling while trying to shove them in his mouth.
“Whoa,” she said with a laugh. “If you want breakfast, I’m going to need those.”
Calder strolled past her with a box of books so heavy she’d had to take rest stops every few feet. He eyed her funnily. Longer than usual. Was everything okay? He couldn’t tell from just the acrid smell lingering on her belongings where she’d been living, could he? A lot of the women had smoked heavily. Sometimes, Pandora feared she might never rid herself of the stench.
On his way into the house, Calder said, “I left a credit card for you on the kitchen table. Quinn’s seriously low on baby food and formula and stuff, so you’ll probably need to fix that situation and grab anything you want for yourself. I usually get fast food on the way home. If you run into tr
ouble, just call my cell. Number’s on the fridge. What’s your number?”
“I, ah, don’t have one.” Too expensive. She’d made her Saturday calls to Julia on the pay phone outside the halfway house.
“Wow, okay. Well, we’ll work on that. Also, while the weather’s nice, use my SUV since it has Quinn’s car seat and stroller. Keys are hanging on a rack by the garage door. Oh—and you might as well park your car in the garage. There should be plenty of room.”
Toying with the bear on the tummy of Quinn’s pj’s, she asked, “How will you get to work?”
“Motorcycle. Usually only use it on the weekends, but this’ll give me a great excuse to ride.”
“Oh.” His shoulders, chest and arms were so tanned. Did he do a lot of work outdoors? Was it wrong she had a tough time focusing on anything but his sheer, male magnificence?
* * *
“SHE HOT?” Calder’s friend and fellow SEAL team member, Mason Brown—also known as "Snowman” because he grew up in Alaska and never got cold— finished his bologna sandwich and tossed the wrapper from three-point range into the trash. He missed.
“Who?” Calder asked as he opened a bag of chips. They’d been stuck in a classroom studying smart-bomb mechanisms all morning. The fresh air felt good. Plus, the day was pretty nice for a change—not too hot. They shared a picnic table with their other friends.
Across from Calder sat Heath “Hopper” Stone, nickname earned from his knack for hopping over any obstacle while at a full-on run.
Next to him, Cooper “Cowboy” Hansen. Rumor had him riding into Basic Underwater Demolition—affectionately known as BUDs—on horseback, but Calder always figured he’d just grown up on a ranch.
The group was rounded out by a bunch of boring-ass married guys who talked about nothing but their wives and kids. Deacon and Garrett used to be fun, but lately Calder had to force himself to even be normal around them. Oh, he loved Quinn because he was his son, but he also loved the life he’d made for himself.
Commitment wasn’t his thing.
He sure as hell didn’t want to hear about the so-called promised land of marriage. What a joke. Besides, for all practical purposes he was married—to the navy.
He loved his job. He loved how being a SEAL made the ladies go weak in the knees—not that he bragged about being a SEAL. That wouldn’t be cool. But they were a different breed and women smelled them from a mile away. Adrenaline rushes and seeing the world were his life. Before Quinn, the apartment he’d shared with Mason, Heath and Cooper had only been a temporary layover between adventures.
“Duh,” Heath said, “the nanny. Is she hot?”
Mason groaned. “Nannies rank right up there with kindergarten teachers on the sexy meter. I like to think there’s a whole lot of naughtiness going on under all that nice.”
Calder crossed his arms and glared. “Show some respect here, people. She’s nice—and really knows her stuff around Quinn.” And though he sure as hell wouldn’t mention it to this crew, when Quinn had helped himself to Pandora’s glasses, and she’d laughed, Calder had been forced to do a double take. In that moment, with the morning sun making her complexion glow, holding his giggling son, she’d been genuinely pretty. Wholesome. Exactly the look he wanted for his son. “I’m lucky to have found her and wouldn’t even think of screwing up a good working relationship by making it personal.”
Mason roared. “Just keep tellin’ yourself that, man.”
“Keep it down,” Garrett snapped from the other end of the table. He and his wife, Eve, had just had a baby boy and Garrett was obsessed with showing everyone his latest cell-phone videos. “My son’s talking...”
Calder shook his head. As the parent of his own infant, he knew kids were far from expert communicators. Guilt consumed him for not feeling more in regard to his son. What was wrong with him? When Pandora asked how Calder stood being away from Quinn, he hadn’t had a good answer. Single-handedly caring for an infant was so stressful, whenever he got the chance to bolt, he did.
So why didn’t he miss his baby and take hundreds of pictures of Quinn? Most days, Calder felt as if he lacked the most basic of dad genes. Probably had something to do with the way Quinn had abruptly entered his world.
But now that he’d finally found a nanny, he could do right by his son while at the same time getting back to what he did best. Killing terrorists with his guns, then slaying the ladies with his looks.
ISBN: 9781460318850
CALLAHAN COWBOY TRIPLETS
Copyright © 2013 by Tina Leonard
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