by Lisa Carter
By the time she finished, her shoulders ached. Savannah had arrived for the morning expedition, gone out and come back. The sun arced high overhead.
Stretching her tight muscles, Darcy gazed over the harbor, taking an unconscious inventory of the prevailing wind and chop of the water, as any born here would.
And then, because her thoughts inevitably drifted to Jax... She glanced at her cell. He should’ve been here by now.
Her mouth thinned. So much for his so-called desire to tackle the books this morning. Was this what his commitment to the business meant?
This was so...so Jax. So typical of his attitude to life. To everything. To her.
She marched toward the storefront, her flip-flops clomping. From the beginning, this had been a bad idea. She should’ve been the new owner, not someone as unreliable as him.
At the cash register, Savannah was ringing up a customer’s purchases. Nearby Ozzie was booking a sunset excursion for a family. On the laptop, Darcy checked email and then voice mail. No message. She pried her cell out of her jeans short’s pocket again. Nothing.
Darcy fumed. She’d had about all she was going to take from Jaxon Pruitt. She hit his speed dial and clamped the phone to her ear.
Waiting, she tapped her foot on the linoleum as it rang. And rang. Why wasn’t he picking up? Unless he was avoiding her calls. Which was so irresponsible. So...
She’d tell him a thing or two. Or three before she was done. And when she was finished with him, he’d wish he’d never—
“Hello?” She gripped the phone. “Jaxon?” She gnashed her teeth. “Jaxon Pruitt? Answer me.”
“Me Bwody Pwoo-it. Hey, Dawcy.”
Her stomach jerked. “Brody?” Why was he answering Jax’s phone? “Brody, talk to me, baby.”
“Me not baby,” he growled.
“Of course you’re not a baby, sweetheart,” she backpedaled. “I meant... Can I talk to your daddy?”
“No, Dawcy. He sick.”
Her mouth went dry. “Your daddy’s sick? Where are you, sweetheart?”
What had happened? Were they stranded on the side of the road somewhere? After what happened to Anna—
“Home, Dawcy.”
“Okay, Brody. You stay right where you are.”
Duh. Where would he go? He was two years old.
“Me hungwy, Dawcy. He sick.”
“I’ll be there as quick as I can, honey. Darcy’s coming.”
“’Kay.” Click.
She stared at the cell in her hand. A little man of few words. She swallowed, hard. Apples never did fall far from trees.
Leaving Ozzie and Savannah to manage things, she threw herself into the SUV and raced the engine. How long had Jax been sick? What was wrong with him? Should she have dialed 911?
Why hadn’t Jax called her? Though perhaps he’d been unable to call anyone. Racing over the bridge out of town, she pressed harder on the accelerator.
Green rows of corn flew past on either side of the road. Isolated white farmhouses and woodland blurred. The turnoff to the Duer Inn. Past the Savage garden center...
Wrenching the wheel, she pulled into Jaxon’s long driveway. And skidded to a stop, the tires spraying shell. Jumping out, she ran toward the porch, leaving the car door open, the alarm dinging in her wake.
His brown head visible through the bay window, Brody waved. His face broke into a smile. She fumbled for the key Shirley had given her a long time ago. And was glad she’d forgotten to turn it over to Jax when he took occupancy of the house.
The door squeaked as she poked her head around the frame. In a flash, Brody appeared, his arms clasping her knees.
“Hey, Dawcy.”
She hugged his small body. “Are you okay? Where’s your daddy?”
Brody jabbed his thumb in the direction of the living room. Taking his hand, she ventured further inside, but the living room was empty. Sounds of retching traveled down the staircase from the bathroom. She winced.
“Me sick.”
She inspected his features. “You’re sick, too?”
Brody shook his head. “No mow.”
She spotted a receipt from the pediatrician’s office on the kitchen island. “You were sick...” she examined the date “...yesterday. How long has Daddy been sick?”
Brody climbed onto a stool. “Me hungwy, Dawcy.”
Crumbs from an empty packet of cookies dotted the countertop. A half-eaten banana and a juice pack lay near the sink. Brody had been trolling for food he could reach.
A toilet flushed, and Jax staggered down the stairs, only to come to an abrupt standstill at the bottom.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” His voice gravelly, he darted his eyes to his son. “Is Brody okay?”
Her lips pursed. “Brody seems to be fine. You, however...”
Clad in sweatpants, he crossed his arms around the seen-better-days army T-shirt. The khaki green matched the greenish cast around his mouth.
His feet were bare. She averted her gaze. Sick or well, Jaxon made her pulse thrum.
Jax ran his hand through his disheveled hair, making it worse. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you such a stubborn idiot?” As always, anger was a far safer emotion when dealing with Jax. “Why didn’t you call your mom? You need help.”
He lifted his chin, covered with two days’ worth of scruff. “I do not need help. I took care of Brody myself. I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” She gestured. “Just look at you. You can barely stand.”
As if to illustrate her point, he leaned against the wall. Usually the leaning annoyed her. Today, because of his illness, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m fine. We’re fine. I don’t need—”
“You’ve been perfectly clear about what you don’t need.” She turned her back on him, facing Brody. “Your son is hungry, and I intend to feed him.”
“I peeled a banana for him earlier... Before...” He gave a strangled sound.
Hand over mouth, Jax bolted toward the staircase.
“You’re fine,” she called. “Sure you are.”
Despite the ninety-degree temps outside, she heated chicken noodle soup on the oven range. “Just the thing, Brody, when you’ve been feeling under the weather.”
She was ladling soup into a bowl when Jax emerged once more. He looked like death warmed over.
On his face, humiliation warred with a sheepish gratitude. “I guess I might need to lie down for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”
Leaving Brody to slurp the soup, she moved toward Jax. He backed away.
“I don’t want you to get sick, too. Doc says it’s a twenty-four-hour bug. I probably got it from Brody.”
Brody banged his foot against the island. “Me not a bug, Daddy.” He laughed.
She and Jax gasped simultaneously.
“Did he just call me...?” Jax looked away, but not before she’d spotted the welling in his eyes.
“I told you it would be okay between you guys.” She blinked back her own tears. “That you had to give him time.”
He nodded, unable to speak for the emotion cresting across his face. He swayed.
She frowned. “Chas can’t do the sunset excursion today. But I’m staying till then. Whether you like it or not.”
“I—I... Okay.”
Did he feel as miserable as he looked?
She motioned to the upper story. “You need to go to bed.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather camp out on the couch.” He dropped his eyes. “That way I can enjoy the two of you.” His lashes flicked upward, his eyes meeting hers.
Darcy’s pulse skittered like a kayak skimming the waves of the sea.
But it wouldn’t do to appear too pleased. Not good for her heart. Or Jaxon’s
overlarge ego. But she was pleased. Ridiculously so. That he trusted her with his son. And that he wanted to be with her.
She tried for stern. “As long as you promise to rest.” She folded her arms. “One child on my hands is enough. I don’t need two.”
He sank onto the sofa. “Deal.”
She suspected he’d sat down just before he would’ve fallen. Sitting upright, he closed his eyes.
Darcy retrieved a pillow from his bedroom upstairs. “Lie back. You’ll rest better.” She pulled at him.
Without protest, he laid his head on the pillow and stretched out. She fanned a quilt over him.
“Thank you, Darce,” he whispered. “You’re the best friend ever.”
She examined Brody. She hoped as much soup had made it into his mouth as stained his shirt. “You, young man, are in desperate need of a bath.”
His sneer told her what he thought of her suggestion.
“Your daddy is sick, and I’m guessing you missed your bath last night.” She cocked her head. “You don’t want Daddy worrying, do you? We need to take care of him.”
Brody perked up. “Me take cawe Daddy.”
She cut her eyes to Jax on the sofa. His eyes were closed, but a faint smile etched his lips.
Darcy held out her hand to Brody. “I know you’ll take care of your daddy. Because you’re such a good, big boy.”
Brody jumped off the stool with a leap that would’ve made a paratrooper proud. “Me big.”
Her eyes watered. “Yes, you are.” Such a sweet, big boy. A chip off the old block.
Walking to the couch, Brody laid his small hand across Jax’s forehead. Probably something his father had done yesterday with him.
Brody shook his head. “Not hot. Not cowd.”
“Just right.” Jax opened one eye and winked at Darcy. “What I’ve been telling you, Darce, for years.”
“Your ego seems no worse for wear.” She rolled her eyes. “Good to know you’re on the mend, Goldilocks.”
Brody patted his father’s cheek. “Wuv you, Daddy.”
Jax’s eyes misted. “I—I love you, too, son.”
Her heart thumped against her rib cage. “Come on, Brody.” She tugged his hand. “Let’s get that bath.”
Jax caught her sleeve. “Thanks, Darcy.” He gulped. “For everything.”
He turned his face toward the cushion. And she left him to his unaccustomed emotion. She loved how tough Mr. Green Beret became emotional gelatin with his son. Her own nerve endings felt raw and exposed when it came to both Pruitts, man and boy.
And despite losing the business, she was suddenly glad, very glad, that Jaxon Pruitt had come home to Kiptohanock.
Chapter Nine
Darcy had gotten less wet rolling the kayak than she did giving Brody a bath. And every time he splashed her, he dissolved into stomach-clutching guffaws.
Not a word she normally used. But yes, guffaws. Brody believed himself hysterically funny. She bit back a smile. He kind of was.
Toweling him off, she reflected that he was a far different child than the too solemn boy she’d met only a few weeks ago. Something had happened between him and Jax during this bout of illness. Something had dissolved the barricades around Brody’s heart and convinced him to trust his father.
His bare feet padded into his bedroom. Towel around his waist, he pulled Spider-Man underwear out of a drawer. “Me do.” He gave her a pointed look.
Not a battle she wanted to fight.
“Knock yourself out, Brode.” She halted in the doorway. “You know that’s just an expression, right?”
“What’s ’spression, Dawcy?”
“Something people say.” She fluttered her hand. “Just get dressed, and don’t do anything crazy.”
He let out a belly laugh. Which coming out of his almost-three-year-old mouth sounded slightly ominous. “Me go cwazy, Dawcy.” He arched his eyebrows. “Awgh!” Like some long-ago buccaneer.
Pondering the need to call in reinforcements—like her mom—she wheeled around and ran smack into Jax’s muscled chest. She bounced into the wall.
“Sorry.” He stepped away.
“I didn’t know you were—”
“I thought you heard—” His brow furrowed.
She moistened her lips. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
His face turned wistful. “Y’all were having so much fun, I didn’t want to miss anything.”
Fun? Her gaze darted from her drenched shirt to her wet feet. She’d ditched the flip-flops after the first attempt to wrangle Brody into the tub.
She let out a laugh. “Yeah, it was fun.” Truth be told, it had been.
And sick or not, Jaxon exuded a raw, masculine charisma. Standing this close to him had her pulse zinging. His son already possessed that kind of charm in spades. She watched Brody wrestle a T-shirt over his head. Shore girls would be in big trouble in about a dozen years.
“You should be lying down.”
Rolling his tongue in his cheek, Jax gave her a two-fingered salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Blowing a small breath between her lips, she slunk past him. Charm out the wazoo. She should know better than to let him get under her skin and inside her heart.
Her eyes went wide, and she stopped in her tracks. Is that what she’d—
This time, Jax ran into her back, and bounced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I thought you were—” She made a sweeping motion. “Just lie down, Jax.”
Without arguing, he turned on his heel and went downstairs again.
Brody apparently believed in accessorizing his underwear. He came out wearing a Spider-Man shirt and pants, looking incredibly adorable. One day he’d be as handsome as...
Idle hands led to idle thoughts. Darcy decided to give the kitchen a thorough overhaul. Afterward, she set the bathroom to rights.
And Jax lay on the sofa, watching her with that half-lidded stare of his. But eventually, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Finger on her lips, she hushed Brody and gave him a snack.
Still in recovery himself, in the midst of playing with his trucks, Brody fell asleep in front of the couch.
Darcy took advantage of the lull to tackle his room. On the bedside table, she discovered a framed photograph of Jax and a woman holding infant Brody. Sinking onto the mattress, Darcy studied the features of the woman who’d borne Brody and captured Jax’s heart.
Even in combat fatigues, Adrienne Maserelli was beautiful. She’d retained her maiden name, a sore spot with Jax’s father, Darcy had heard. In the picture, intelligence shone out of Adrienne’s face. Of a Mediterranean heritage, she possessed an exotic beauty with her sloe eyes, high cheekbones and dark hair.
She’d been an ambitious, highly accomplished and sophisticated soldier in her own right. Unlike Darcy, whose skill set amounted to navigating a plastic boat through the water. Adrienne and Jax had made a striking couple. Darcy’s gut twisted.
“Why is it you’ve never asked about Adrienne?” Jax lounged against the doorway of Brody’s room.
“Sorry.” Hands shaking, Darcy set the frame on the nightstand. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
He cocked his head. “The photograph was taken on one of our few good days together as a family.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she stayed silent.
“After Adrienne died, Mom put together a photo album for Brody.”
Unfolding, Jax moved toward the built-in bookcase and pulled out a leather-bound album. “He doesn’t remember his mother. He was only a year old when she was killed, and she’s been gone just as long. These photos are all he’ll ever have of her.”
Carrying the book, Jax sat down on the mattress. The last thing Darcy wanted was to watch him grieve over his dead wife, so she stepped backward. “I better check—”
“Don’t go. Please.” Jax touched her arm. “He’s still asleep. There aren’t many people with whom I can talk about Adrienne.”
Wringing her hands, Darcy bit her lip. Jax wanted to talk to her about his wife? Oh, joy.
But at the pain in his dark eyes, she gave up thinking about herself. She couldn’t leave him hurting this way.
So she pulled a chair from the desk and set it across from Jax. Maintaining as much distance as possible, for her sake, if not for his.
He opened the album. “Adrienne and I...” He flipped a page. “We were complicated.”
That was not what Darcy expected.
“Adrienne was the most competitive person I’d ever met.” He gave Darcy a wry grin. “Which considering who I am, says a lot.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “The most competitive person I’ve ever met.”
“But it was more than that. Adrienne and I were like fire and ice.”
Darcy fidgeted.
“After we were married, I realized those two elements aren’t a good combination. Either fire melts ice or ice douses fire.”
She knotted her hands in her lap.
“We brought out the worst in each other. Staying together meant one of us was in danger of being extinguished. We had nothing in common, except the army.”
“You had Brody in common,” she whispered.
His laugh was tinged with disillusionment. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But Adrienne wasn’t happy when she discovered she was pregnant. A child didn’t fit into her career plans.”
Darcy’s chin lifted. “But Brody is wonderful.”
Tenderness softened the rugged planes of Jax’s face. “Yeah, he is.” Jax swallowed. “And in her own way, she loved him.”
“What does that mean, Jax?”
“Adrienne came from a prominent family in Salt Lake City. She spent her entire adult life trying to prove them wrong when they disagreed about her joining the military, instead of the family firm. Deployment was one way up the ranks.”
That hit a little too close to home, and Darcy took a breath. “So she wasn’t around a lot.”
“Me, either. Dual deployments are a reality for many military couples. But when there are children involved...”
