Men of Endurance Limited Edition Collection

by Siera London

  “Sounds like fun,” Autumn said kissing Rui on the cheek.

  Rui stroked his goatee. “Knowing the Masters’ family, there’s bound to be some drama.”

  Her aunt had been wrong. Finding love was like a race, not a coin toss. There were intervals of love and lost along the journey. Cultivating an everlasting love required staying the course sometimes and letting go at others. Looking at her new family, Autumn smiled, ecstatic that her days of flying solo were over. The reward, a home in Rui’s heart, had been worth going the distance.

  A Return To Endurance

  The Men of Endurance

  SIERA LONDON

  Chapter 1

  Owen Tate walked into the private living area attached to the rear of his bar and grille, No Limit, and stumbled to a halt. Ivy, his wife of twelve months and mother to his six-year-old son, Cai, stood at the sink laughing at something a radio personality yammered about through the smartphone speaker. Her multi-hued cocoa-cinnamon ringlets, still damp from this morning’s shower, hung past her shoulders, swaying as she tapped her bare foot to an inaudible beat. With her back to him, he let his eyes travel the length of her soft curves, appreciating every change her body had undertaken since their wedding day. She’d added a few pounds, and so had he, thanks to Ivy’s sweet potato muffins. One of his formerly-white, pullover shirts, now splattered with Ivy’s custom tie-dye pattern, clung to her pert backside before gathering tight at her mid-section where his baby grew.

  An oven timer dinged, and Ivy glanced over her shoulder.

  Owen approached. Wrapping his long frame around her back, he placed both hands on her rounded belly. Goodness, everything about this woman felt right. With her head tucked under his chin, he tilted his face down, burying his nose in her hair. Clean citrus notes reminded him of bright summer days, and hot airy nights.

  The May weather in central California had punished the local vineyards with scorching sunrays, baking everything in its path. But nothing in nature compared to the gentle slopes in the west, and the soaring mountain peaks beyond the single kitchen window. More than a year in Endurance, and his wife, with fresh mountain air clinging to her skin, still marveled at this sight. Endurance, population of 1,335 was a small town with expansive mountain views, giant firs, and a big heart. One that comforted him when he lost his first wife, Caitlyn, in a car accident, and celebrated his good fortune when Ivy Summers wandered through town looking for a hot meal and a quick buck. Taking her in his home had been pure luck. Earning her love and trust had been divine intervention. Cai swore his mother had dispatched an angel to love them both when Ivy showed up at No Limit’s door.

  “Hey, big daddy,” she smiled, lifting one hand over her head to stroke his cheek, “how long you been watching me work?”

  Endurance, California: the small town in the Sierra Nevada foothills was his home. With its small-time charm, and neighborly sense of community, a man could make a decent living and raise family without the threat of stray bullets and gang violence. But, with the guys outnumbering the girls three to one starting in grade school, he never expected to find someone to share his life with after Caitlyn’s death.

  “Long enough to know I love you and you’re the sexiest momma in the whole state.”

  Ivy raised a brow. “Just one state?”

  Heck no, but she already had the big head. She’d enrolled at the university, excelling in her business courses despite her dyslexia diagnosis. He couldn’t be prouder, and the whole town adored his Ivy. When she worked behind the bar, Owen had noticed more than a few passersby trying to draw her attention.

  He dropped a kiss to her temple. “What work have you been doing,” he quizzed, concerned Ivy might over do it in her current condition, “sounds like a party is going on with all the loud music and laughter.”

  Pushing her plump derriere into his groin, she huffed. “Messy Mandy is doing a live interview for that Women On Words podcast.”

  With a groan, Owen stilled her hips. “So, you’d rather listen to gossip than maybe,” he nipped her ear, “play house with me? Cai’s busy outside,” he whispered, trailing kisses down her cheek.

  Ivy ducked out of the hold. “I already played house,” she gestured to her nine-month belly. “With you, I’ll probably end up pregnant twice.”

  Stepping back, Owen chuckled. “Here’s hoping.” Leaning against the sink he crossed toned arms over his chest. “Any more contractions?”

  They seemed to be coming with increasing frequency. At night, the back pain had started to disturb Ivy’s sleep.

  Ivy walked to the counter, grabbing a baking sheet with equally spaced rolls in columns of six. “A few,” she said. “Put these in the oven for me, Casanova.”

  Owen did as he was told, opening the oven door to slide the big pan onto the center rack. “You sure you’re not doing too much?”

  These days Ivy’s moods were mercurial. In between the complaining about swollen ankles, multiple trips to the bathroom, and unexplained tears, he tried not to second guess her actions when she felt up to taking care of him and Cai.

  “Autumn and Rui are getting married today,” she began. “If my best friend wants homemade rolls and potato salad for her wedding, she’s going to get it.”

  Before taking the job as Professor Rui Conner’s nanny, Autumn Raine babysat Cai after school and waited tables at the bar on occasion. Ivy had overlooked Autumn’s initial distrust, and the two became best friends. Simone, Rui’s eight-year-old daughter took great pride in bossing Cai around when she visited.

  Raising both hands in surrender, Owen grinned. “Fine. But, put your feet up ASAP.”

  He’d forgotten that no amount of massage could give pregnancy legs relief. He’d heard women talk about carrying a baby high or low. His wife, being the uniquely beautiful woman that she was, carried their baby around her legs.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she screeched, the clang of metal hitting an unforgiving surface ranging louder than Messy Mandy southern dialect. “Owen,” she sang out, her voice having climbed an octave.

  He pivoted on his heel, ready to swoop in to catch a rolling egg or stop a spill.

  At the wide-eyed expression on his wife’s face, his heart thudded in his chest. Face ashen, hands trembling, she looked mortified. Looking his wife over, he failed to see the cause for alarm, then his gaze landed on the puddle at her feet. Ivy shifted her weight from left to right, edging her toes away from the spreading wetness. A dark trail formed on the inner aspect of her denim capris, like someone had tipped over a half-full drink can.

  All of a sudden, Owen’s mouth went dry as two-week-old bread. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the answer before he asked the question, but he chalked the synaptic delay up to the six-year gap.

  Swallowing, he asked. “Did you break something, sweetheart?”

  Just then Cai came in from the back yard, slamming his little boots on the tile floor and the wood frame door simultaneously. Being the smart first-grader that he was, the first statement he made was. “Mommy when you pee your pants at school, Mrs. Petry says you have to clean it up yourself.”

  With those beautiful brown eyes locked on his face, Ivy nodded, and then said. “My water…”

  Accustomed to his wife’s chatty nature, Owen momentarily missed the significance of those two words. When nothing else followed, he ran a hand through his overlong blond locks. Yes, the baby was due any day now, but not today. Right?

  Next thing he knew his wife was in action. “Owen,” she breathed, cheeks flushed with color now. “The baby is coming. Grab my overnight bag from the closet. Call Autumn and tell her I’m sorry.”

  Cai began to cheer. “Yay! I’m going to get my snack bag.”

  “Ouch,” Ivy screamed, before doubling over. “That hurts.”

  “You okay? That was a contraction,” Owen rasped, reaching for her. “There’s no time, sweetheart.” With both hands cupped around her arms, he said. “Ivy, we need to go.”

  Pine Valley, a town twenty mi
les north of Endurance, had a hospital. If they waited, the baby would have to be delivered in the bar, or worse, on the road. There were a few of the regulars out front, mainly the guys who worked at University of California, Endurance in the facilities department: Hank Stewart and Luke Cole. They could manage No Limit and the wedding reception food while Owen held his wife’s hand and watched his baby enter the world. Decision made, he grabbed Ivy’s hand.

  “Wh-where are we going?” she panted, face contorted in discomfort.

  “Hank, Luke, I need you in the back,” Owen called.

  Cai bolted into the adjoining family room, probably in search of his backpack with the snack bags Ivy made for him each morning, even on the weekends.

  Boots scraped on the wood floors in the bar room, then both men lumbered through the swinging doors, stopping short when they spied Ivy’s hand cupping her stomach. Each met Owen’s six feet eye-to-eye, their expressions worried.

  “Ivy, you okay?” Hank asked.

  Taking a second to catch her breath, Ivy said, “This baby is doing tai kwon do on my uterus.”

  Perspiration gathered on Ivy’s brow, and her breathing had become labored.

  Clamping an arm around Ivy’s waist, Owen pulled her in close. “The baby’s coming. Luke, you handle the customers. Hank, I need you to get the rolls and potato salad to Tommy’s Park for Rui and Autumn’s wedding reception at one o’clock, and—”

  Hank: the more talkative of the two, raised his hand, “But—”

  “No buts allowed, Hank. If you want to keep eating my wife’s cooking every morning. You’ll figure it out.”

  “Owen,” Ivy chided, “temper.”

  There was a time, after Owen had lost Caitlyn, if anyone had tried to calm him down, his Marine training would have overridden his common sense.

  ‘We got it, Owen,” Luke and Hank said. A couple of solid slaps on the shoulder, and the pair split forces tackling the to-do list.

  Cai ran into the room, his backpack in hand, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness. “Daddy, I’m ready.”

  He never expected to have this beautiful, generous woman in his life, in his son’s life. He felt complete, yet open to all the possibilities a young one would add to his family. With his woman in one hand and his son on the other, Owen said, “I am too.”

  * * *

  Owen threaded his fingers through Ivy’s, tightening his grip. He couldn’t help but touch her. Twenty miles with a panting, screaming, pregnant woman and a curious six-year-old riding shotgun, had morphed into the cannonball run. Word spread fast in Endurance. By the time Owen packed the car and turned over the engine, Keith Fullerton, the local sheriff had the cruiser idled in front of No Limit ready to escort them all the way to Pine Valley.

  Upon arrival, Owen parked in the Emergency Room lot while Keith grabbed a wheelchair. The forms and insurance card requests came at him from every direction, but Owen held his temper in check, making sure Ivy got settled into a private room in the birthing suite. In the room sat the most uncomfortable chair known to man, a twin bed with side rails, and an infant warmer that to Owen looked like a mini-operating table with buttons.

  “Baby,” she panted. “Relax. Baby.”

  He ran his fingers through her riotous curls, before dropping his forehead to hers.

  “Yes, a baby.” He smiled, squeezing their interlocked fingers.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, Owen’s heart hammered in his chest, the moment surreal. Labor and delivery nurses circulated around them, a noisy chorus of beeps and dings with a rapid thump providing the drum line. Their baby’s heartbeat.

  “Owen!” His name, on a glass-shattering scream cut through his thoughts. Ivy’s eyes were closed, her face contorted in pain. “I’m going to kill—”

  Another contraction hit before she could finish the statement. Thank goodness.

  “Owen Tate,” she bellowed, adding his last name. “Your baby is tearing me apart. Get down there.”

  Owen froze, his eyes stretched wide. When his pregnant wife demanded he do something, he usually came though like a champ, but this time he was in a quandary.

  “Ah, sweetheart.”

  Ivy’s eyelids shot open; the contraction having passed. She turned those honey irises on him. “Don’t you sweet talk me. This Mini-Cooper™ of a baby is popping wheelies on my ovaries,” she exclaimed, panting, as what he assumed was another contraction began. She bobbed her head in time with her breathing the way their birthing coach had taught them.

  “Ivy, air in-air out. I know it hurts. You’re doing great. Breathe easy,” he encouraged. His first wife hadn’t wanted him in the delivery room when his son Cai was born. He complained, but man, he should have been grateful. He felt faint.

  “Just breathe. I know it hurts,” she scoffed. “You don’t know diddly. I swear I’m going to tell Autumn to sew her legs closed. If Rui does this to her, I swear...”

  Rui and Autumn were reciting their promise of forever at this moment. Rui’s eight-year-old daughter, Simone, was anxious for a new sister. But Owen got the feeling Autumn wanted to finish her first year on staff at Endurance Elementary, and her vows, before adding to their family.

  “Just breathe,” she parroted. “You try and breathe with an eight-pound anchor dropping from your...”

  She screamed, and then squeezed his hand so hard, his fingers cracked, and pain shot up his arms. Owen winced. Ivy threw her head back, her once slender neck stretched long, and roared like a tiger. “The baby,” she said in a rush, “she’s-she’s coming, Owen.”

  “Get down there,” she demanded. “Welcome her-rr.”

  The last word trailed off, tangled in a jumble of unintelligible sounds.

  “The midwife is there, sweetheart. Everything is under control.” Well, except his pulse, his blood pressure, and his trembling hands.

  Another ear-curling scream crackled in the air.

  She pushed higher onto her elbows. “Owen-nnn. You keep your face between my legs until your daughter arrives. I’m working like James Brown up here, so you’d better do your part. You got that?”

  “Yes, dear,” he replied, obedient to his wife’s demands.

  The midwife chuckled. Cally Heartsfield was a new resident in Endurance, but worked in Pine Valley. The men were happy to have a new single lady in town, but the women had rolled out the red-carpet making her the unofficial mayor. She saved them from having to drive up to Sacramento for routine care.

  “Owen,” Cally said, with a smile in her voice, “You should probably make your way down here. Your daughter is about to make her debut.”

  On shaky legs, Owen moved to stand behind the Doc. Though Cally was a nurse, the U.S. Marine Corps had conditioned him to apply the title to all medical personnel as a form of respect. He peeked beneath the crisp white sheet covering Ivy’s legs. That’s when he spotted a tiny round head covered in golden brown curls.

  His heart instantly filled with love for his daughter.

  “Give us one more good effort with the next contraction, Ivy.” That came from the nurse circulating in the room.

  “Owen,” Ivy sobbed. “I can’t feel my legs. Is she here?”

  God, he loved his woman. So strong and beautiful, Ivy had worried about getting pregnant so soon into their marriage. He’d assured her his feelings wouldn’t change.

  That had been a lie.

  He loved her even more as she grew round with his child. In thirty years, he’d been a son, a brother, a Marine, a husband, a bar owner, a father, a widower, and now a husband and father for the second time. He remembered the sorrow he felt when Caitlyn died, but it didn’t consume his life now.

  Ivy Summers-Tate had healed his soul; mended all his tattered pieces with her love. Yeah, he and his son Cai had a place to belong again, in Ivy’s loving care.

  “I’m here, sweetheart. Our daughter wants to meet her beautiful mother. Push.”

  “I’m so tired.” They both were. They’d been in this pale-yellow room for thirteen hours. Ow
en placed a hand on his wife’s knee. “I love you,” he swallowed, the emotion gathering in his throat. “One more time. For our daughter.”

  “Okay,” she breathed, he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

  “Now, Ivy,” Cally insisted. “You can do it.”

  Owen squeezed the trembling limb beneath his hand. “We can do this together. Come on, sweetheart.”

  With a final warrior princess cry, Ivy bore down and didn’t stop. Owen pushed too.

  The next sound he heard brought tears to his eyes. His daughter’s wail.

  Moments later, the staff placed a puffy bundle in his arms. Her skin soft against his hard forearm like whipped cream. With her cherubic cheeks, honey skin, and her mother’s eyes, she was perfect.

  He took measured steps, careful not to jostle his little blessing. Smiling when she cooed and placed wrinkled fingers in her mouth.

  “I want to see her, Owen.”

  Ivy opened her arms reaching for their daughter. He bent low, to place a kiss on Ivy’s sweat-dampened forehead. “I love you.”

  He placed the infant in her arms, and instantly she pulled the wiggling mass into her breast.

  “I love you more,” she mouthed, turning to regard their little miracle. Ivy gently surveyed the life she’d created, counting fingers and toes, all the while tears trekked down her cheeks. “Your mommy loves you, precious.”

  The scene of his wife and child together was so intimate he wished the staff would empty the room.

  Just then, the creak of hinges pulling wide sounded before Cai burst into the space, all wide-eyed and moving limbs. “Is baby Faith here, Daddy?” his son asked, barreling towards his mother. “I brought an extra juice box just for her.”

  Owen scooped his son up, not wanting him to bulldoze Ivy and his little sister. “Whoa there, partner. Your sister is here, buddy.”

  “Yay,” he cheered, the glee welcomed like only a six-year-old could get away with in the company of adults. “But I think she needs milk instead of juice.”