The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2) Read online

  “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but since your mom’s shopping for wedding dresses, my correct title would be Dad.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  Henry grew impatient from Macy not feeding him fast enough and smacked his palms against the high-chair tray, making a mess by splattering peaches everywhere. She shot a panicked glance toward the fiber she’d left on the counter, but exhaled with relief to find it okay.

  “Sorry, Wendy—” Macy reached for a damp dishcloth “—but I’ve gotta go. The main man in my life is cranky.” But still adorable with his pint-size pout.

  “Excuses, excuses. Call me back when you have time to talk.”

  Macy said her goodbyes, then finished feeding Henry before she had a mutiny on her hands. By the time the peaches and ham and sweet potatoes were gone and her little man happily squeaked buttons on his walker, she’d cleaned his mess and then tugged cowboy boots over her jeans and changed into a clean pink T-shirt.

  “Ready for gardening?” she asked her son.

  He kept right on squeaking.

  “Sorry, sunshine, but we need to water, and those weeds aren’t going to pull themselves.”

  He wailed when she plucked him from his walker and into her arms, but by the time she’d settled him in the dry plastic pool she used for an outdoor playpen, he was once again all smiles.

  The chore was one she’d done a hundred times. She wasn’t bored with it, per se. Maybe dissatisfied was a better word. Lonely. Her grandparents had done the same task their whole lives, but they’d had each other.

  Remembering the two of them still playful enough to every so often squirt each other with the hose gave Macy a sharp pang in her chest. Sometimes she missed her grandparents so bad the pain was unbearable. Was that how Wiley felt about his wounds—only they nagged most of the time?

  “Know what we should do?” she asked Henry.

  Gurgling while chewing a plastic shovel, he ignored her.

  “Go ahead and play hard to get, little man. Until you’re too heavy for me to lift you, you’re lucky enough to go where I do, and I say we should swing by Wiley’s and ask if he wants to accompany us to see your great-grandma.”

  Usually, Macy only visited the rest home on Sundays. Her heart couldn’t take more. Her grandmother no longer knew her, and sometimes seemed agitated for Macy and Henry to even be there, but while Dot might not know her, Macy very much needed her grandma.

  It only took a few minutes to store her gardening tools and the hose in the shed, then a few more to clean up, run a brush through her hair and change into a pretty yellow sundress and her favorite red cowboy boots.

  She added lip gloss, then grabbed the diaper bag, keys, her purse and Henry.

  “Am I nuts for doing this?” she asked her son, while grinding the old Ford into Reverse.

  He was too busy eating his plastic key ring to answer.

  “I sure will be glad when you finally talk.” At the end of the dirt drive, she turned toward Wiley’s. “But then again, if you turn into a chatterbox like Aunt Wendy, maybe I won’t.”

  At Wiley’s, she parked in the shade and rolled down the windows. For the few minutes it would take her to grab Wiley, Henry would be fine in his safety seat—especially since he’d never be out of her view.

  She hummed as she bounded up the porch steps, surprised to find the front door closed. On warm days, Wiley’s grandfather had always left it open, just closing the screen door.

  The screen stuck, but an extra hard tug got it open so she could knock. She tried for a good few minutes, but Wiley didn’t answer. He’d parked his truck near the barn, so he had to be here.

  Worried, she tried the door to find it locked.

  Frowning, she checked on Henry to find him still making a snack of his keys, then looked for her neighbor in the barn.

  “Wiley?” she called into the barn’s gloom.

  The momma hound barked.

  “Hey, there, pretty girl. How are your babies?” Not wanting to leave Henry for too long, she gave the dog and puppies a quick pat, then dashed back outside, closing the barn door behind her.

  She checked the garden, junk pile and even glanced out at the pasture only to find no Wiley. When another knock on the cabin door garnered no results, she climbed back behind the truck’s wheel, still planning on visiting her grandmother, but not feeling as good about it.

  Where could Wiley be?

  If he was your husband, you’d know...

  Cheeks flushed from the ridiculous idea, Macy sped away from Wiley’s grandfather’s cabin as fast as the old Ford truck could go.

  * * *

  WHAT WAS THAT NOISE? Were they under attack?

  Wiley bolted upright in bed, grabbing the rifle he kept alongside him.

  It took a while for his heart to stop hammering. Not only was he alone, but he wasn’t in Kobane. The sound wasn’t incoming artillery, but knocking on the front door.

  “Wiley? It’s Macy! You in there?”

  He groaned.

  “I want you to come with me to see my...”

  Her voice was muffled, making her last words impossible to hear, but he got the gist. Her dad wasn’t his biggest fan, which meant she probably wanted him to join her on a visit to Dot’s rest home.

  Hell.

  Emotions warred within him like mini grenades. Part of him wanted to tag along. He’d liked and respected Dot. But considering how much pain he’d been in after that morning’s trek to town, he’d downed an awful lot of rotgut, which had left him in no shape for civilized company.

  Hiding behind the silly lace curtains one of his grandfather’s lady friends had put up what seemed like a hundred years ago, Wiley swallowed the knot lurking at the back of his throat. Part of him wanted to call out to her.

  No.

  A guy as messed up as he had no business with a perfect girl like Macy. Look at her, crossing the dirt yard to the barn. Her pretty yellow dress clashed with her red boots and fiery hair, but somehow her freckles and curls tied it all together in a fashion statement only she could pull off.

  All he had to do was take a few steps to his right, unlatch the dead bolt and then give her a holler. They’d have a nice chat with Dot. Maybe share an even nicer meal after.

  Move, his heart dictated.

  His feet refused.

  He’d had far too much to drink, and as a result, wasn’t thinking straight. Dot had Alzheimer’s, and there wasn’t anything nice about that. How would it feel to see a woman who’d been like a second mother, only to have her not even recognize him?

  How would it feel?

  Like shit.

  His stomach seized, damn near hurting as much as his leg. More than anything, he wished for a do-over to turn back the clock. He’d not only avoid that cluster bomb, but bring back his parents and grandparents—Macy’s, too.

  He’d do everything different, starting by doing something about the fact that little Macy had grown into a fine-looking young woman a helluva lot sooner than the night of his high school graduation.

  He closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, she was gone.

  He limped to the kitchen for a fresh bottle, then used his hoe as a crutch to hobble outside to drink with his temporary dog.

  Chapter Seven

  Macy did visit her grandmother, but far from her chat bringing much-needed solace, it only reinforced the fact that Dot was already gone. At the same time, it left her desperate to help Wiley before he, too, vanished from her life as swiftly as he’d reappeared.

  Which she didn’t understand.

  Hadn’t she already had more than enough sorrow and heartache? Why invite what would inevitably bring only more trouble by purposely inserting herself in Wiley’s life?

  As for marrying him to
be able to help him full-time? That was just silly.

  Take today for instance. The brutal truth was that when she’d stopped by to invite him to visit Dot, she was guessing there hadn’t been anything wrong with him, and he hadn’t been suddenly swept off on a new military mission or even to a friend’s. Most likely, he’d been in his cabin not just purposely avoiding her, but everyone. What did that say about his mental state? About how messed up he’d become?

  She tightened her grip on the truck’s wheel.

  Instead of veering toward the mountain, toward home, she kept moving forward to her parents. More specifically, her mom. She needed to sort through her thoughts about Wiley, and she needed her mom’s wisdom.

  In fifteen minutes, she’d reached her mom and dad’s outstretched arms and gladly stepped into their hugs.

  As always, there was an initial flurry of excitement over how much Henry had grown, but then her father returned to the garage where he’d been tinkering with the lawn mower and Macy and her mother gravitated toward the dining room where her mom sat at the table, surrounded by images of her and Steve taken on their Christmas cruise.

  “This is a nice surprise.” Adrianne picked up her scissors, painstakingly cutting a photo of Steve pretending to surf in front of a big wave backdrop. “With all you’ve got going on up on the mountain, I didn’t figure we’d see you till this weekend.”

  “I missed Grandma, so I went to see her early.” Macy took Henry from his carrier to hold on her lap.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask how she is. Dad and I went Tuesday, and it wasn’t good. She thought he was a tax collector and I was trying to recruit her into a religious cult.”

  “I wondered where she’d got that,” Macy said with a sad smile. “She thought the same about me.”

  “So sad.” Macy’s mother shook her head while pasting her surfing husband on a glittery wave sticker she’d already placed on the current page in her vacation scrapbook. “My friend Shirley—you remember her? From scrapbooking club?”

  Macy nodded.

  “She went through the same with her mom, only she was out of state. Toward the end, Shirley rented an apartment to stay closer. Broke her heart. When her mom passed, she struggled with a fresh batch of guilt about feeling relieved to no longer have to see her mother in such a wrecked emotional state.”

  “Mom?” Macy jiggled Henry on her knee.

  “That’s me.”

  Macy tried not to roll her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I...” Adrianne grinned.

  “Whatever—I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Let me guess—Wiley?”

  Macy winced. Was she that transparent? “Okay, well, his behavior isn’t exactly normal. As much as I hate to admit it, Dad was probably right about Wiley having issues. I can tell he’s in a lot of pain, and I’m pretty sure he’s drinking—a lot. But then, every so often, he shows these teasing glimpses of the kind of man he could be, and I...” Eyes watering, Macy pressed her hands to her chest.

  “You want to help him?”

  “Yes, but could that be a bad idea? By being around him any more than I have to, am I asking for trouble?” She smoothed Henry’s hair.

  “Honey...” Adrianne left her chair to hug Macy from behind. “I’m hardly an expert on these kinds of things, but the way I see it, as long as we’ve known him, Wiley might as well be family. Just like you would never consider abandoning Grandma, I’m assuming you feel the same about Wiley. Am I right?”

  Macy nodded.

  “Then here’s what you’re going to do.” Adrianne drew out the chair beside her daughter. Once settled, she took Macy’s free hand, delivering a reassuring squeeze. “Unless your heart tells you something different, you’re going to be the charitable, loving woman I know you to be and help your friend however you see fit. Now, I’m not telling you to launch some scandalous affair that—”

  “Mom!” Macy snatched her hand back to cover at least one of her flaming cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.” But maybe that’s what I want? Only I’m afraid of getting hurt all over again?

  “It’s okay if you were. Just take it slow.”

  “I’m not interested in anything but friendship. I’m still too messed up about Rex to even think of being with another man.” At least that’s what she kept telling herself. But she’d been so lonely, and Wiley did need help... What could it hurt to get a little closer?

  “Perfect.”

  Macy wished for a shred of her mother’s confidence in the situation. Wiley’s slightest touch reawakened a curious hunger for him that she’d tucked away and thought forever buried. But now that he was back, she wasn’t strong enough to deny it. The giddy teen in her craved him like M&Ms. But why? If they were to build something beyond friendship, would it even be real? Or would she be using him as a bridge to reconnect to happier times?

  “You look pretty intense,” her mom said. “Relax. As long as your heart is in the right place, and you mean well, whatever help you decide to give Wiley will be good for him.”

  “I know.” She leaned in to give her mom a hug, not letting go until Henry squirmed between them.

  She still didn’t have a clue what to do when it came to Wiley. Or, maybe her answer was to not do anything. To wait until the universe sent her a sign.

  * * *

  IN THE PAST WEEK, Doc Carthage had dropped off an abandoned goat, a one-eyed orange tabby, a skinny old nag named Lulu that preferred the far end of the pasture, and now Doc presented him with a three-legged Yorkie.

  “Blinkie,” Doc said, “lost his leg in a mouse trap, and his family got laid off and had to move to find work. Well, when they couldn’t find a new apartment that takes pets, they asked me for help finding this fella a good home. Considering what a fine job you’ve done with our momma hound and Lulu, the horse, damned if your name wasn’t first on my list as a potential new doggie parent.”

  While coming up with a way to tell the vet no, Wiley stared across the yard.

  “Have you named the momma yet?”

  “I thought her being here was only temporary. Didn’t figure she’d be around long enough to even give her a name.”

  “Oh, oh right.” Doc held out the hamster-sized dog, but Wiley wasn’t taking it. No way. Not happening. “I’m sure I’ll find a good home for all of them soon, but until then, I’d appreciate you holding on to them for a while longer.”

  Wiley cocked his head. “Man to man, finding homes for any of these lost souls isn’t high on your agenda, is it?”

  “You’re good.” The vet chuckled, setting Blinkie on the top porch step, then jogging to his truck and hopping behind the wheel. Before Wiley had even made it to the porch, let alone tried chasing after him, a dust cloud was all that remained of the doc’s visit.

  “Well, hell...” Wiley removed his battered straw cowboy hat to give the ridiculous mutt a hard stare.

  It was shivering on an eighty-degree day.

  The cat sat on the porch rail, using his one good eye to give the pitiful creature a lofty look of disdain.

  “What am I supposed to do with you?” Wiley plucked up the dog.

  Blinkie licked his fingers.

  “Thanks, but I don’t need dog kisses.”

  As did every other critter on the mountain these days, the dog ignored him to keep right on licking. He’d also stopped shivering.

  Wiley sighed. “I can hardly take care of myself, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with you.”

  The pup settled into the crook of his arm with a shuddering sigh.

  “You do know you have no business being on this mountain?” Wiley backed onto the nearest step, relieved to be off his leg. “You’d make the perfect, bite-size morsel for damn near everything out here.”

  Apparently becoming a b
ear or mountain lion appetizer wasn’t high on the dog’s worry list as he’d already fallen asleep.

  Swell.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Doc’s game.

  It was a classic kill-two-birds-with-one-stone scenario. Not only was Doc steadily clearing his veterinary clinic of broken misfit toys, but to his way of thinking, he was giving an equally broken man something meaningful to do. Only Wiley didn’t need a barn filled with animals to keep him occupied when it already took damn near all his strength to keep an adequate liquor supply.

  “Blinkie, let me teach you about the fine art of dulling whatever ails you.” Wiley made it into the house intent on pouring a drink, but then figured why even dirty a glass when he could down it straight from the bottle.

  He’d just unscrewed the cap when he heard tires crunching on the dirt drive.

  He set down the whiskey, and exhaled. “Blinkie, you seem like a good guy, but clearly Doc came to his senses and realized you need a lot better parent than me.”

  Wiley made it out to the porch to make the handoff only to find Macy instead of the vet.

  A string of mumbled curses passed his lips.

  She waved, then after barely having time to kill the engine and put the old truck in Park, she’d dashed out from behind the wheel to dart up the porch stairs, crushing him in a hug. “Thank you!”

  “For what?”

  Blinkie squeaked his displeasure at having been smooshed.

  “Oh—ooooh. Look at you.” Stepping back, Macy cupped the dog’s face. “You’re a doll.” She looked up at Wiley. “Where did he or she come from?”

  “He—and who do you think?”

  She laughed, taking the dog from him.

  The exchange brought her too close, and he lacked the wherewithal to process how he felt about her bare forearms brushing against his. She made him feel off balance—and for a guy with only one good leg, that wasn’t ideal.

  “Henry’s going to be so excited.” Before he could ask what she was thanking him for, she’d run to the truck to show the baby the dog. “Wiley, come look! They’re adorable together!”