The Cowboy SEAL's Jingle Bell Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  It took him a sec to catch on. But then he bent forward to kiss Tiffany’s forehead before leaving the room, secretly glad for the chance to regain his composure.

  He raked his hands through his hair.

  This was a game changer.

  After actually getting a look at his son, he couldn’t even think of handing him over after his birth. But was he ready for a lifelong commitment?

  He paced the hall, wishing for an easy answer, but there was none.

  His stomach lurched when the door opened and the doctor and nurse stepped out.

  The nurse said, “Tiffany’s good to go as soon as she’s dressed.”

  “Cool. Thanks.” Rowdy struggled to find his next breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have tagged along? Maybe he’d OD’d on the recommended dose of touchy-feely emotions for one day?

  “Nice meeting you,” the doctor said. “Hopefully, you plan on staying in town?” Her tone implied what her words hadn’t directly asked. Was he going to play an active role in his son’s life?

  Yes.

  I mean, probably.

  What am I thinking? Absolutely.

  But how? How did he dive right into a second marriage with a woman he hardly knew? How did he know he’d even like being a dad? But who was he to assume he had a choice? If he’d been man enough to share in making the child, then he had the moral obligation to raise him.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “It was good meeting you, too.”

  With the doctor and nurse gone, Rowdy was back on his own and brushing his sweating palms against the thighs of his jeans. His pulse galloped as fast as his son’s and his mouth had gone dry.

  He was a navy SEAL—supposedly one of the toughest men on the planet. So why did this issue have him feeling weak in the knees? His father and brother were much better equipped to handle this situation. But why? Especially when Rowdy had been trained to tackle any possible contingency with zero complaints. When he was assigned a mission, he’d never been the kind of guy to hem and haw. He was a soldier. He made a decision and saw it through. Period.

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced up to find Tiffany leaving the exam room. Her long blond hair was tousled and her giant pink sweater hung crooked. Despite all of that, he’d never seen her look more beautiful. She was the mother of his child.

  The freaking mother of his child.

  She carried his precious son inside her body.

  He took a moment to let that sink in. Was there any deeper intimacy a man and woman could share?

  “Can you believe that just happened?” she asked.

  “I know, right? Seeing our baby was—wow.”

  “I try not to look. It’s too hard, knowing I have to get off at the end of the ride.”

  “But you don’t. We don’t.” They’d reached the end of the corridor and stood in a quiet corner leading to the patient checkout. “How can you tell me what happened in there didn’t matter?”

  “Of course it mattered, but to what end? Just because it’s a modern-day miracle being able to see our unborn child doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t pay off Grammy’s new mortgage or medical bills or—”

  “Shh.” He pressed the tip of his index finger over her lips.

  She opened her mouth and nipped him. “Don’t shush me. Especially when you know I’m right.”

  “What if you sell this new doctor a big, fancy house?”

  “Realistically, what are the odds of her buying from me?” She tugged the front of her sweater. “Webster’s has a picture of me under their definition of hot mess.”

  “Your defeatist attitude is getting old. I understand you’re going through a rough patch, but you seriously need to work on your mental toughness.”

  “You need to stick your mental toughness where the sun doesn’t—”

  “Excuse me?” From behind them, a woman cleared her throat. She pushed a stroller carrying twin infant girls.

  Rowdy opened the door for her, then propelled Tiffany in the same direction. This constant bickering had to stop. It wasn’t good for her or their baby.

  When it was their turn at the checkout counter, the clerk asked, “Ms. Lawson, the doctor wants to see you again next week. What’s a good day for you?”

  Tiffany scheduled her appointment.

  “What’s going on with her bill?” Rowdy asked.

  “It’s been paid in full. We offer complete delivery packages.” The number she read produced instant indigestion that made him feel as if his son were a box on a shelf. Right here and now, he’d send the message that his child was no longer for sale.

  “I need to call my bank out east and transfer funds, but is there any way to refund that previous payment and allow me to pay instead?”

  “Rowdy, what are you doing?” Tiffany sported a Texas-sized scowl.

  “I suppose we could,” the clerk said. “But it’s highly unusual. Let me check with my supervisor.”

  “Thanks,” Tiffany said, “but there’s no need for that. He’s just messing around.”

  “No, Tiff, I’m not. I’m damned sick and tired of—”

  “Sir...” The clerk raised her eyebrows, then nodded toward the waiting room’s staring audience—many of whom were a G-rated crowd.

  “Right. Sorry. I’ll come back another time.”

  “What was that about?” Tiffany asked after reaching the privacy of his truck.

  Much to her ever-increasing displeasure, Rowdy not only opened her door but scooped her up to set her on the tall vehicle’s seat. She was still tingling from his touch when, once he sat behind the wheel, he further complicated matters by reaching over her to fasten her seat belt, in the process brushing his arms against her baby bump and breasts.

  Nipples standing at attention, she crossed her arms.

  The man made her all kinds of crazy.

  When he turned the key in the ignition, it made a few clicking noises, which seemed to get him all riled up. Fortunately, on his next try, the engine turned over.

  He drove them out of the clinic’s crowded lot and through the few blocks leading to her grandmother’s house, only to then turn onto the highway leading out of town.

  “First,” she said, “where are you taking me? And second, explain that stunt back at the obstetrician’s.”

  “Where I’m taking you is a surprise that will hopefully, for once, shut you the hell up. And my stunt was the first step in reclaiming our lives. Jeb and Susie Parker might have put a down payment on our son, but effective today, he’s off the market.”

  “I’m so sick of this.” Pressing the heels of her hands to her throbbing forehead, she said, “One sonogram doesn’t change a thing. Jeb and Susie have merely paid my medical bills because I couldn’t. As for you implying I’m somehow profiting on the birth of our child?” She couldn’t even look at his stupid face. And yes, she was purposely leaving out her usual handsome assessment, because after his latest streak of bad behavior, she no longer found him the least bit desirable.

  Liar!

  “I never said that, and you know it. Look at me.”

  “No.”

  “Tiff...” With far too tender a touch for her to keep a nice tight hold to her rage, he placed his hand under her chin, urging her to at least glance his way. “You put words in my mouth I would never say. I know the adoption is your way of doing what you wholeheartedly believe is best for our child. I know all these months without me, you have to have been worried out of your mind. But now I’m here. And I’m going to help. And you know what?”

  She shook her head, swatting away his warm, gentle, stupid touch.

  “For the rest of the day, you and I are going to stop fighting and work on becoming friends.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Try.”

 
“I need to get home. Mr. Bojangles has started wriggling out of his sweaters and by this afternoon we’re supposed to get more snow. I don’t want him catching a chill.” To calm the mental chaos the man never failed to produce, she nibbled her pinkie.

  He shocked her by taking her hand, then slowly, with what to her chaotic pulse felt downright erotic, eased his fingers between hers. The heat, the electric awareness, the instant need, robbed her of all rational thought. When he further muddled her mind by raising her hand to his lips—those lips she knew all too well?

  She closed her eyes and gulped.

  I am Tiffany Lawson, she reminded herself.

  I am a society darling.

  I am strong and smart and talented and capable of caring for myself and everyone I love. I am fully in control of everything I do and say.

  I don’t want this man to hold me or kiss me or...

  The second his lips touched the sensitive skin on the back of her hand, freeze-framed images of their wild night hit like a sensual firestorm.

  For an instant, she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Like my tongue here? Lower?

  Turn around. I need to kiss you.

  What if I brushed my lips across—

  “Tiff?” he asked with a concerned glance her way. “You feeling all right? You look hot and splotchy.”

  “I’m fine.” She snatched her hand free. “You focus on driving, and I’ll worry about me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His cocky sideways grin wrought all manner of havoc. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt good old-fashioned desire, but an unforgettable humming between her legs reminded her of Rowdy’s bedroom potential. “Why don’t you take a nap? Bismarck’s a fair piece down the road, and—”

  “Why are we going there? I have to get ready for when my new client calls.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Relax. Promise, you’ll enjoy every second of the rest of our day...”

  No truer words had ever been spoken.

  An hour later, Rowdy had delivered her to a mall nail salon, where she was indulging in a decadent foot massage to be followed by a pedicure and manicure.

  He sat patiently in the waiting area, flipping through fashion magazines as if he were actually interested. Every so often, he looked her way. When their gazes met, her body turned all hot and bothered. Thank goodness he was across the room, because she wouldn’t know what to say. Had any man ever done something so thoughtful? No.

  In Rowdy some lucky lady would land a real keeper. Too bad that woman wouldn’t be her.

  Why not? her buttinsky conscience nudged.

  How many times had he asked to marry her? Offered to take care of her and their son? Marrying him would be easy.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Until she went and did something reckless with her wounded heart by falling for him harder than she feared she already had. If she allowed feelings for him to ever pass this current superficial-physical-attraction stage? She’d be a goner. Her father and ex had taught her all too well what happened when men she loved abandoned her.

  She wouldn’t put herself through that kind of pain again.

  The woman doing her pedicure raised her feet from the bubbling footbath to wrap them both in hot towels.

  The sensation was beyond bliss and deep into a realm of unicorns and rainbows and lots and lots of still-warm-from-the-oven cookies.

  Tiffany glanced up to find Rowdy staring.

  His green eyes punched through her every excuse to stay away. And then he blew such a faint kiss that she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it.

  Not only did her pulse surge, but the baby kicked.

  Protecting her wary heart, she dropped her gaze, only to raise it back up. To find his stupid, sexy grin and lose herself all over again.

  For the rest of their time at the nail salon, she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. The results were far too dangerous. The fact that he’d returned her to her natural salon habitat clearly had her punch-drunk on nail-polish fumes!

  She’d opted for a fast-drying shellac finish, so as soon as Rowdy paid for her services, they reentered the bustling mall, which was already decked out for Christmas.

  Santa reigned over the North Pole, aka former food court. Along with soaring mall-sponsored trees festooned in silver, powder-blue and white glittering ornaments stood hundreds of smaller trees that had been decorated in themes by different organizations. They all helped raise money for charity when mallgoers paid a dollar to vote for their favorites.

  She put a dollar in the collection pot for the Barbie-themed tree.

  Rowdy opted for a beach-themed tree that had sand and shells bunched around the base in lieu of a traditional skirt.

  “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” played over the sound system.

  Everywhere she looked, frazzled parents chased hyper kids.

  Would that be her and Rowdy one day? Those moms and dads didn’t look especially happy. They looked exhausted.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Much. Thank you.” Assuming he’d meant in regard to her nails, she avoided the deeper subject of the adoption that always lurked just beneath the glassy surface of their conversational waters. If she—they—did go through with giving their baby to Susie and Jeb, would she regret it? Would every holiday for the rest of her life be spent wondering what if?

  He shrugged. “No biggie.”

  “To me it was.” She forced a smile. Professionally manicured nails were a luxury she hadn’t been able to afford for quite some time, and she refused to spend a moment more on worry. “Ready to head home?”

  “Not a chance, princess. Your party’s only just begun. While you were getting your nails and toes pretty, the ladies around me helped me out with the location of a maternity store. We’re going to find you a few fancy Realtor dresses, a new coat—and shoes. Sensible, but still nice enough to make you feel like the ice queen I first met all those months ago.”

  He’d delivered his assessment in a playful tone, but she had to ask, “Is that how you saw me? As a coldhearted bitch?”

  “There you go again.” He bumped her shoulder with his upper arm. “Putting words in my mouth. You were dressed all in white, right down to those sky-high heels. In that run-down old bar, you looked like an angel. Unobtainable. Ethereal. So far out of my reach that I shouldn’t have wasted my breath even talking to you. But I did, and we did and...”

  She remembered the play-by-play of what happened next, and damn if her body wasn’t craving a repeat performance.

  In the center of the crowded mall, they’d stopped.

  Turned to each other.

  Was he going to kiss her? Here? In front of God, hundreds of families and Santa?

  Please... her body yearned.

  Don’t even think about it, her carefully structured defenses railed.

  She licked suddenly parched lips. Had he always been so tall? Had his chest always been so broad? Had he always smelled of sun-warmed leather?

  He leaned closer.

  She leaned closer.

  He tilted his head.

  She tilted hers.

  He inched closer and closer until his warm breath tickled her lips and her heart thundered like a runaway herd of reindeer. She wanted his kiss more than anything, but badly enough to risk lowering the gate on her heart?

  “Shoes,” she blurted.

  “What about them?”

  “If you’re sure—I mean, if you were serious about gifting me with a new work outfit—we should start with shoes.” Because if I stand here looking at your stupid-handsome, whisker-stubbled face for one second longer, I’ll break. And then I’ll be kissing you. And that wouldn’t be good for either of us!

  “Right. Shoes
. Lead the way...” He looked as dazed as she felt. Had he been on the verge of kissing her? Before her first marriage and divorce and this mess with Big Daddy, she used to know when a man desired her. Attraction had been second nature. As simple as knowing when she needed a cool sip of champagne. Now? For all she knew, Rowdy might have been pondering whether to have a cheeseburger or spaghetti for dinner.

  A long waddle from their current location landed them in comfy leather seats with an eager salesman grabbing three pairs of shoes in various sizes. Fortunately, when it came to finding gorgeous shoes, her instincts were still sharp, and she’d found low-heeled black leather boots, somewhat-sensible black leather pumps and black flats.

  “I like the boots,” Rowdy said, “but how are those other two going to work in the snow?”

  She waved off his concern. “Snow is no big deal. I just need to watch the heel height.”

  “If you say so...”

  The salesman returned, and if it weren’t already bad enough that her normally perfect size-six feet had exploded into size nine, her calves and ankles had grown so huge that the boots wouldn’t zip.

  “Try again,” she asked the college-aged kid. “Maybe the zipper’s stuck?”

  “Nah. They’re too tight. My manager will kill me if I break it.”

  She cringed with embarrassment.

  The salesman moved on to the heels. “You’ll probably want to trade your socks for these.” He wagged a pair of those crumpled panty-hose feet that looked like dead hamsters. The old Tiffany would have brought her own knee-high stockings. But then, in her defense, she hadn’t exactly known their destination.

  In regard to fit, her feet told the same sad story with a different shoe.

  The baby wasn’t due until January. At her body’s current rate of expansion, how was she supposed to remain presentable till then?

  Rowdy said, “I think you’d look cute in those red sparkly ones.” He pointed to a corner shelf filled with jewel-toned shoe heaven. Most were stilettos, but there were a few flats. The red ones in question? Darling, but a bit over the top for your average Tuesday in Maple Springs.

  “I don’t know...” Tiffany grumbled. “They probably won’t even fit. And they’re way too dressy for work.”