by Katie Knight
With a sigh, Maria rolled over onto her side and stared at the green glowing numbers on the clock on her nightstand. Nearly 4 a.m. Camille would be waking again soon for another feeding. Just as well, since her mother wasn’t getting any rest anyway.
Trevor needed her help. She’d agreed to give it to him. He’d been her friend for a lot longer than he’d been her lover. And yes, he was the father of her baby, but he’d made it clear a year ago that he was fine with doing the deed, then walking away. The fact they’d been forced back together now because of circumstance didn’t mean he was looking to pick up where they’d left off before his deployment.
Starting tomorrow, she’d be all business. Focus on this investigation and nothing more.
Matter settled, she closed her eyes to try and get a quick nap in, but fate had other ideas.
A tiny wail issued through the darkness and Maria tossed back the covers, padding across her bedroom to the door. Duty called.
Eight
Trevor was up early the next morning, unable to lay there on the couch and stare at the walls for one more minute. He’d taken a quick shower, gotten dressed, and was currently in the process of tidying and rearranging the living room. It was a trick he’d picked up in the military, cleaning to help release his pent-up tension and anxiety. He’d done all of this as quietly as possible and with minimal light to guide him, all in an effort to let both Maria and Camille sleep more. He’d heard both of them up in the middle of the night for a feeding and knew that Maria would have to go to work today. At least, he thought she would, seeing as how it was Monday.
Then again, she owned her own business, so maybe she could set her own hours. Did PIs even keep regular business hours? He had no idea. And who would watch Camille while she was gone? Trevor assumed she had a regular sitter or daycare arranged. He’d do it himself, but honestly, he had no clue about babies. What did a three-month-old eat? How often did they sleep? Were they able to sit up or did they just lie there?
He glanced at the new playpen again. Maria had said that Camille wasn’t ready for it yet, so no. Probably not sitting up yet. Or crawling. Which meant in order to get anywhere, the baby would need to be held or put in one of those carrier seat things. He’d noticed one of those in the kitchen yesterday, on one of the chairs.
“Good morning,” Maria said, jarring him out of his thoughts. She stopped at the end of the hall and looked around at his redecorating, her expression unreadable. Damn. He should’ve asked before rearranging stuff. This wasn’t his home. He had no right to change things when he’d be gone as soon as this mess with his captain was over. If Maria was upset, however, she didn’t mention it, just continued on into the kitchen with Camille and got her arranged in the carrier seat. Question answered. Maria glanced over at him after buckling Camille into the seat. “Looks like you’ve been busy. Sleep much?”
“Not really.” Trevor tucked away the last of the folded onesies into the laundry basket then wandered into the kitchen. Camille was bright-eyed and gurgling and he couldn’t resist bending over to talk and tease her. She smiled at him again and his whole universe burst into rainbows. Man, oh man. He’d never imagined having a kid would be so… enchanting.
The sound of Maria bustling about the kitchen had him straightening to find her popping a bottle of milk into the microwave, then testing the contents on her wrist. He frowned. “I thought you breastfed her.”
“I do. This is expressed milk.” Maria chuckled at his befuddlement. “I pump it out and store it for when I’m at work. Or when breastfeeding might be awkward. Or just because things get uncomfortable if I don’t, you know, relieve the pressure every couple of hours. Like now.”
“Oh.” Yeah, he hadn’t really considered that aspect. Given their history, Maria whipping out her breast in front of him, no matter how innocuous the reason, might be weird. Sure, he’d seen her breasts before, could still remember how soft and warm they felt in his palms, those tiny noises she’d made in the back of her throat as he’d licked and nuzzled and worshipped them with his lips and tongue, and….
Trevor coughed and quickly averted his gaze, realizing too late he’d been staring at her chest.
Idiot.
Maria did laugh now. She moved past him to pull a chair up in front of Camille’s seat and gave her the bottle. She glanced around the kitchen. “You cleaned up in here too?”
Heat prickled his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Old habit. Everything in its place. That’s the SEALs unofficial motto.”
“Any other surprises I should know about?” she asked, amusement sparkling in her green-gold eyes.
He winced. “I might have packed a diaper bag and your work bag too. Put in all the stuff I figured you’d need. I hung them both on the hooks by the front door, so you can grab them on the way out.”
“Wow.” She looked down at her daughter and smiled, so full of love and happiness, it made Trevor’s chest ache. Someday he’d love to have more of that in his life—family, hearth, home. When the time was right. If it was ever right. “I guess I should say thanks,” Maria continued. “I’ve been a bit of an organizational nightmare since the birth. Hard to juggle it all alone. Then I went back to work and it only got worse. Not that I’d change anything, of course.”
As if in agreement, Camille gave a tiny squeak of appreciation and tried to grab the bottle with her tiny little hands.
Not sure what else to do with himself, Trevor took a seat across the table from them to watch. “Looks like she’s got a good grip already.”
“Yeah, she’s strong.” Maria reached in to tickle her daughter’s tummy. “Aren’t you, baby girl? You’re Mamma’s strong little darlin’.”
“Is she still only drinking milk?”
“Yep. The pediatrician said I can start introducing some solid foods at four months, like rice cereal, stuff like that.” Trevor pulled a face and Maria laughed. “Sounds bland as hell to me too, but babies apparently like it.”
Once Camille finished her bottle, Maria cleaned up, then began making toast. The air filled with the scent of warm bread and Trevor’s stomach growled.
“Want some?” she asked him. “Or there’s cereal or eggs too. I might have some bacon in the fridge.”
“Toast is fine, thanks.” He sat back. “So, where does Camille go when you’re at your office?”
“Daycare. The wife of a friend of mine from the force runs it. She’s great with babies.” Maria buttered a couple slices of toast then carried them over to the table, putting two in front of Trevor and keeping two for herself. Then she poured them each a mug of coffee before taking her seat. “What are your plans while I’m at work today?”
“I’m going over to talk to Tim. Then my parents asked me to stop by for lunch. Then…I don’t know, maybe go to the library. Why?”
“Just wondering,” she said around a bite of toast. “I’m between cases at work, but I need to go in because my receptionist has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and I don’t want to leave the office unattended. Figured I’ll do more research on your project too. Last night, you said your captain kept asking you for more intel? Care to enlighten me about what exactly he was looking for? It might help in my searches.”
Trevor continued to watch his baby daughter, stretching out her legs and kicking in her seat, one fist jammed in her mouth while she batted at a stuffed giraffe toy with the other, making it rattle. She was so darned cute, and active too.
“What are you doing?” he found himself cooing to her. “What’ve you got in your hand, huh? Is that a giraffe?” Camille turned to look at him, tracking the sound of his voice. She gurgled again, slobber covering the tiny hand in her mouth, and smiled at him. Man, he’d give everything to see that brilliant smile every day. “That’s a good girl. Camille’s such a good girl. Yes, she is.”
He almost said “Daddy’s good girl” but managed to stop himself in time. Trevor glanced over to find Maria watching him, gaze narrowed and expression expectant. Shi
t. She’d asked him something and he had no idea what.
“Sorry,” he said, giving a tiny shrug. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Maria sat back, frowning. “Are you being deliberately obtuse?”
“Huh? What? No.” He scrunched his nose and shoved half a slice of toast in his mouth. “Why would I not tell you something? We’re working together on this, right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re military. God knows the military and the government love their secrets.” She sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim of her cup. “I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me though. Even if it is classified intel. Whatever we discover on this case won’t go past us, I promise. You’re in enough trouble already.”
He sighed and looked away. “I wasn’t being obtuse. Not deliberately. I trust you, otherwise I would never have come here in the first place. It’s just hard. We live our lives as SEALs keeping everything confidential to protect national security. At least that’s what we’re told.” He sniffed. “Then one day your commanding officer is killed and you start wondering if anything is safe anymore. It rocks your foundation.”
“I bet it does. But you know you’re safe here, right? Well, as safe as I can make this place.” She finished her coffee and toast, then stood. “Well, I need to get going so I can drop Camille off at daycare before I head to the office. Can I drop you somewhere on the way?”
“Nah.” He tossed his trash away, then walked around the table to pick up the carrier seat and carry it into the living room for Maria while she grabbed the diaper bag and her work tote from the hooks where he’d hung them earlier. It made him feel better, knowing he’d helped make her day easier in some small way. At the front door, he handed over his daughter, then held the door for them as they made their way out of the house. “You guys be careful today.”
“You too.” Maria started down the front stoop, then stopped and came back, rummaging in her bag with one hand while holding Camille’s carrier with the other. “Oh, and here’s a spare key for the house, so you can get back in later. Don’t lose it.”
He took it from her, their fingers brushing and sending sparks of incandescent awareness up his arm. “I won’t. I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.”
Their gazes held for a moment longer than necessary before Camille squeaked loudly again, breaking the spell.
“Right. Okay. We’re off. I left instructions on the kitchen counter of how to work all the security systems in here. Please be sure to follow them exactly when you leave later. If you have any questions or problems with anything, call me.” She took off down the front stoop. “I’m cooking tonight, so don’t eat dinner. We can discuss what we’ve each found.”
“Sounds good. Drive safe.”
“You too.” She waved from the driveway, then fiddled with Camille’s car seat, getting it secured in the backseat of her sedan.
Trevor stood on the threshold, keeping watch until Maria’s car disappeared down the street and around the corner. It was another bright, sunny day and as he scanned the area, he knew he’d have to be careful. Standing here in front of Maria’s tiny bungalow made him feel far more at home than he had a right to, and that was far more dangerous than anything he might face from the investigation into his captain’s death.
Nine
By the time Maria got home that night, Camille was fussy. In truth, Maria felt a bit fussy herself. It had been a long day of research that had yielded little in the way of results. She’d spent the day searching through Trevor’s social media accounts, thinking perhaps the person responsible for the captain’s murder had been cyberstalking Trevor. It was a pretty normal practice, at least from what she’d found in the cases she worked. A jilted ex or a spurned lover quietly watching a person’s posts, tracking their movements, waiting for the perfect time to make their move.
All she’d found though were lots of things that only made her like Trevor more: posts and pics and anecdotes that reinforced what a good, honorable, decent guy he was. Ugh. It was making it harder and harder to keep him compartmentalized into the neat little box she’d made for him and his investigation. The more time they spent together, the more she wanted from him. And the more her old emotions where he was concerned flared back to life. It all left her feeling raw and vulnerable and far too interested for her own good. Even if she now harbored no doubts that Trevor was innocent. Not that she’d had many to begin with.
He was too good, too strong, too morally steadfast for that.
She walked into her house at a quarter past six that night to find Trevor setting the table. He’d not cooked—she remembered back from the disasters he’d made in high school Home Ec class that meal preparation was not his forte—but the tracks on the carpet said he’d vacuumed, and the air smelled of lemon furniture polish and floor wax. Her heart pinched a bit at the consideration and sweetness.
Maria toed off her pumps, then carried Camille’s seat over to the sofa to get her unbuckled and out of the thing. She carried her daughter into the kitchen, where she promptly handed her off to a wide-eyed Trevor. “There, baby girl. You go see your daddy for a bit, while mommy changes and makes dinner.”
She left a somewhat stunned Trevor and an equally silent Camille behind to head down the hall to her bedroom. By the time she’d changed out of her work suit into comfy jeans and a T-shirt and walked back out into the living room, she found Trevor and her daughter on the sofa, cooing to each other. Camille laughed while Trevor made funny faces and noises to amuse her.
Life was good.
After grabbing chicken and veggies from the fridge, Maria set about making stir-fry in a pan on the stove. While she got dinner ready, she talked to Trevor. “How’d your day go?”
“Okay, I guess. I went to see Tim, but there wasn’t much new he could tell me. They’ve beefed up security at the base because of the internal investigation into the captain’s death though, so entering and leaving the place through the normal routes might not be the best way for me to get my stuff. After the meeting with my brother, I spent more time at my parents. Helped my dad work out in the garden in the back, did a few odd jobs around the place. How about you? Find anything interesting in your research?”
Only that you’re adorable and kind and sweet and that you love pictures of puppies.
Instead, she said, “Not really. We really need to get that flash drive and take a look at those files you said you had in your bags too. Otherwise, I went over the captain’s background check at work today and there wasn’t anything suspicious that I saw in his past. No debts. No enemies. Pretty much a dead end there. Not that I’m trying to get rid of you or anything.” Heat flushed her cheeks and she mentally kicked herself. “I mean, I’m sure you want to get this cleared up so you can get back out on a new mission and I’ve got things to get back to and well and….” She sighed. “Never mind.”
Trevor laughed and carried Camille over to the breakfast bar, taking a seat on one of the stools on the other side to watch Maria cook. As awkward as he’d been earlier with the baby, he was a natural with kids. Camille was staring at him with huge adoring eyes already, coaxed out of her grumpiness by Trevor’s easy charm. Much as she hated to admit it, Maria felt much the same way.
“I know what you meant,” he grinned at her, and warmth sizzled through her blood. That smile of his should come with a warning label, it was so potent. “And yeah, we need to get moving on things,” he said, staring down at Camille with a rapt look on his face. “It’s just that when I’m with her, she’s all I can think about.”
The words made Maria’s heart ache with tenderness. “I know.”
Camille dozed off and Trevor gingerly put her back into her carrier, then moved baby and seat to a kitchen chair so they could keep an eye on her. “Uh, can I help with anything?”
“Think you can chop up that celery for me?” she asked. Then, remembering his less-than-stellar culinary skills, she added, “But only if you think you’re up to it. Don’t want you to
lose a digit or anything.”
“I can handle it.” He chuckled and moved to the sink to wash the produce before carrying it over to a cutting board nearby. “They made me pull KP duty in the SEALs a few times, so I’ve gotten marginally better. I’m no Gordon Ramsey, but I’m not the world’s worst cook anymore either.”
“Good to know.” She popped a mushroom into her mouth, then grinned at him over her shoulder. The chicken sizzled in the wok and the air smelled of garlic and herbs and cooking meat. It all seemed homey and happy and normal. Maria couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever felt this comfortable in the home where she’d grown up. Her wealthy parents had little time for her or for domesticity. They’d hired chefs and tutors, and only interacted with little Maria when it was absolutely necessary. Once she’d decided to strike out on her own and escape the path they’d laid out for her, they lost any interest in her life whatsoever. Maybe that was why the minute she’d found out she was expecting with Camille, she’d vowed to always be there for her daughter, no matter what. “So, now that you’re not distracted by our baby, tell me more about this intel your captain wanted.”
Trevor exhaled slow, the steady chop-chop of his knife on the cutting board a lulling rhythm. “Honestly, that last night of the mission was just the tip of the iceberg. The captain was pushing me to send what information we had by non-secure channels. It was storming, so our satellite connection wasn’t as strong as normal, and it was taking way longer than usual to upload. We were all on edge, but the captain more than most. That had never been a problem before, but now the captain seemed to freak out, demanding I go against orders and upload the data non-securely, claiming it would be faster. We fought about it and that’s when I drew my gun on him. It was stupid. I knew that the minute I did it, and I lowered my weapon almost immediately, but like I said, it had been building for a while.”
