The Cowboy SEAL's Jingle Bell Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Tiff?”

  “Yes?” Her cheeks blazed hotter than the water.

  What had she been thinking? How was getting naked supposed to make her think of anything other than Rowdy?

  “I called your grandmother to let her know you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” She’d called on their way to the mall to let the two women in her life know she’d be late, but never had she intended to be gone overnight.

  “I know it’s only been a few hours since we ate, but I’m hungry and thought you might be, too? I ordered a pizza. Hope sausage and mushroom is all right?”

  “Sure.” Every inch of her glowed. The mere sound of his voice made her crave more of him.

  Eyes closed, she gulped.

  “Tiff?” His voice sounded clearer. Almost as if he were alongside her in the room.

  Wait—he wouldn’t dare. Would he?

  Eyes wide open, she found him near the sink, holding his hands over his gaze.

  “Go away!” she shrieked, covering her embarrassingly huge breasts with her hands.

  “I wanna see the baby.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Just one peek.”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Just one little peek, and I promise to leave you alone.”

  “Rowdy...”

  “Come on. No funny business. I just want to see my son.”

  “All you can see is my giant stomach. It’s not all that attractive.”

  “Bull. I’ll bet your body is even more beautiful now than it used to be.” He’d come perilously close and now crouched a mere foot from the tub. His voice was smooth and decadent. Warm caramel. She pressed her legs closer in what she feared to be a futile effort to stop the needy hum. “Let me see, Tiff...”

  “Okay, but...” Please, don’t hurt me by telling me how fat I’ve gotten or how my stretch marks turn you off or—

  He sharply exhaled. “Damn, you’re sexy. Already a MILF.”

  “I’m not.” But I appreciate your fib.

  He’d repositioned onto his knees and pressed his big hand atop the baby. His every fingerprint strummed her with awareness. Pleasure. Cravings for more of anything he had to offer.

  He kept his hand on the baby, but his fingers drifted higher. Her nipples puckered beneath her palms.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  Their gazes locked.

  I want that, too.

  “And then I want to carry you to the bed and figure out a position that allows me to bury myself inside you.”

  She licked suddenly parched lips.

  “I promised Pearl we’d behave, but...” he played dirty by flashing his stupid-handsome grin “...you know what they say about promises.”

  They were made to be broken.

  What would it hurt to be with him one more time? What was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t as if she could get any more pregnant.

  “Talk to me, Tiff. What are you thinking?” He slid his hand lower, to the V between her legs. Without saying a word, she answered his question by opening for him.

  The instant he touched her, she lost all ability to think or speak. And when he leaned in to hover his lips above hers, she refused to care about anything other than finally getting his kiss.

  At least until a knock sounded on the room’s outer door.

  A man called, “Pizza delivery!”

  “Shit.” He looked to the door, then her. “Don’t budge. I’ll be right back.”

  With him gone, her sanity returned along with her ability to breathe.

  He’d closed the bathroom door, so she gripped the tub’s safety bar to pull herself up, then as quickly as possible toweled herself dry. She was just attempting to draw up her panties when Rowdy rejoined her.

  “I was afraid of this.” He stepped disturbingly close and smelled of the strongest aphrodisiac on the planet—pizza. “As usual, you refuse to follow directions.” He settled his big hands low on her hips and then drew her as close as the baby allowed.

  With only her towel between them, her pulse went haywire. “Rowdy...” She licked her lips. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea? Being around you like this... I—I can’t think.”

  “For once, what would it hurt for you to stop analyzing and simply feel?” His warm breath fanned her upper lip.

  She ached from the effort of denying her attraction. She didn’t just want to kiss him—she wanted to lose herself to him. She wanted to forget everything but how right they felt together—at least physically.

  Everything else could sort itself out later.

  Here, now, she pressed her palms to his chest, fisting his shirt when he inched still closer.

  Anticipation for his kiss balled in her chest.

  Kiss me, her soul cried.

  And then he did.

  He slanted his lips atop hers, and in that instant, she’d found home. A butterfly-soft brush morphed into a fevered, desperate give-and-take as she helped Rowdy strip and then he made good on his earlier statement to carry her to bed.

  They bumped and fumbled and kissed, only to find it wasn’t all that easy for him to enter her in a conventional way. Finally, necessity provided a solution when he helped her straddle him, then settled in for a nice long ride.

  With his hands on her hips, he plunged deeper.

  She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, abandoning herself to the heady sensations that only he’d ever been able to give.

  How heavenly would it be to wake to this kind of pleasure every morning and fall asleep the same way each night? Truly giving herself to him would be way too easy. It was his leaving that would be impossibly hard.

  Just like every other man she’d loved, he would eventually leave...

  Her climax struck with such exquisite beauty that tears stung her closed eyes.

  He stiffened, tightening his hold before releasing a rugged sigh. “Damn. What you do to me is criminal.”

  “I’m sorry?” she said with a half laugh. “If it helps, you do the same to me.”

  He sat up a little, and she leaned down a little, touching her forehead to his.

  “You do know I won the bet.”

  “What bet?”

  “Remember the wager we made back at the mall? About how if we ever ended up back in a motel room, that we’d...” He winked.

  “Hush. It was stupid. And I never agreed.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I still won.”

  “Whatever.”

  He spiraled a few locks of her hair around his pinkie. “Does this mean you changed your mind?” he asked.

  “About what?”

  “Marrying me. You know it’s the right thing for the baby. Plus, we’d get to have great sex.”

  It’s the right thing.

  We’d get to have great sex.

  Nowhere in his speech did he mention having fallen deeply, madly in love. Not that it would have mattered. She’d been told she was loved by lots of guys. It wasn’t the words that mattered but actions.

  “Tiff? Marry me?”

  Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “Could you please help me to the restroom? I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rowdy was no saint.

  He’d seen plenty of freaky things in his thirty-odd years. But having a woman puke her guts out right after they’d made love? That ranked right up there with slogging a fully-loaded raft across a lake bed that turned out to be more mud than lake.

  “Babe, what can I get you?” he asked from his seat on the edge of the tub.

  “Do something with my hair. I’m hot.”

  It was
on the tip of his tongue to ask what specifically she wanted done, but self-preservation told him this was one of those times when he’d be better off figuring it out for himself.

  When she sat back on her knees in front of the commode, he readjusted the blanket around her slim shoulders, then finger-combed her long hair back, weaving it into a braid. His friend Grady had a little girl who’d taught him the skill.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re welcome and you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He stood and wet a washcloth with cold water. Stroking her forehead and cheeks, he said, “Think it was something you ate?”

  “Probably. I gobbled twice my weight in butter.”

  “Then I guess I’m lucky you didn’t melt?”

  Her slit-eyed gaze only encouraged him. “Get it? The two of us together were so hot that—”

  “I get it.” Silent tears shimmered on her cheeks.

  “Hey...” Sobering, he set down the washcloth to sit beside her, drawing her into his arms. “If you’re hurting that bad, need me to call for help?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid. Hormones have turned me into a lunatic.”

  “If it helps—” he kissed her left temple “—when my brother’s wife was pregnant, she nearly ran him out of the house. She was always hopping mad about something. He’s got a thing for beef jerky, but if he so much as had it in the same room as her, he’d have hell to pay.”

  Tiffany laughed. “Smells are bad. They’re all magnified. Like I’m a great big basset hound.”

  “You are cuddly.” He gave her an extra-firm squeeze. “But I don’t see any drool.”

  She gave his forearm a light swat. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He kissed the crown of her head. “Want me to run you another bath?”

  “Yes, please. And when I’m feeling better, I promise to do something nice for you.”

  Like marrying me? Keeping our son?

  What would it take for her to see both items needed to be on her agenda? Or was he jumping the gun? Had being with her again in the biblical sense made him think they’d created a bond that wasn’t really there? Oh—make no mistake, he wanted it to be. But it wasn’t the kind of thing a man could force.

  He’d already been with one woman who hadn’t been all that into him. Was he really up for reliving that scenario?

  * * *

  “ROWDY?”

  “You’re a royal pain in my ass,” he said into his cell before wiping sweat from his brow with his flannel shirtsleeve. It had been four days since they’d talked. In that time, Tiffany had avoided his calls, dodged repeated visits to her family home and even driven the other way when she’d seen him walking down the street toward her office. “What’s up with the evasion tactics?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The hell you don’t.” He leaned on the end of his pitchfork. He’d once again landed the crap job of mucking out the barn stalls. It had only served as a reminder that if he stayed here in town, this was what he had to look forward to for the next fifty years. “Why did you even call?”

  “I have news.”

  “Oh?” Had Jeb and Susie backed out of the adoption? If that was her news, part of him would be elated to keep his son. Another part of him? Well, that guy was still scared shitless by the prospect of becoming a father.

  “Remember that new doctor who was coming to town? And how she needed a new house?”

  “Did you sell her one?” The words spilled out of him in a rush.

  “I think so. We have one more to see tomorrow, but she loved the one we saw today. It was amazing—a modern log cabin with great big windows and a river-stone foundation. First class all the way. It looked like a five-star ski lodge.”

  “Nice.” So why are you calling?

  “It really was. She has three kids. Her husband’s a doctor, too.”

  And? Get to the point.

  “Thanks again for the new shoes, coat and clothes. If I do end up with the sale, I’ll have your generosity to thank.”

  “Any man in my position would have done the same.” Or more. He’d barreled into town intent on making an honest woman of her and giving his son a proper last name. Now more times than not, he felt all messed up inside. Like the yard after a nasty storm. Filled with fallen twigs and debris. Cluttered and chaotic.

  “Maybe. But you did. So, thanks.”

  After an uncomfortably long pause, he forced his lungs full of the chilly barn air. “Is that why you called? About the clothes?”

  She blurted, “Remember how your brother called us selfish?”

  “Yeah.” Mad all over again, he tightened his grip on the fork’s handle.

  “Well, I was in the middle of a house tour, making polite small talk, when we entered this awesome home theater. It was seriously pimped out. Built-in leather recliners, curtains over the screen—even a popcorn machine and movie-butter dispenser.”

  “Sweet.”

  “She started talking about how much her kids would love the room, and then she got all misty-eyed, telling me how much she missed them. I asked how she did it—worked such a demanding job while raising three kids. She said her kids were her reason for living. And that sometimes it was hard juggling family and work responsibilities but that she and her husband wouldn’t have it any other way. The rest of the afternoon, her words stayed with me. And I thought about how I have been avoiding you—not because I didn’t want to talk to you and kiss you and do lots of other things we have no business doing, but because the God’s honest truth is that I’m scared maybe your brother’s right. Maybe we are selfish? Maybe if we really put our son’s needs ahead of our own, nothing else would matter but him?”

  Lips pressed tight, Rowdy tugged the brim of his battered leather cowboy hat.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “I like that you’ve at least been thinking about me.”

  “Rowdy, I’m serious. When my client went on and on about how her kids matter more than anything, I felt a pang in my chest that’s still there. What if we sign those adoption papers but regret it? How would we cope with the guilt and loss?”

  “Wish I had an answer for you.” He really did.

  His call waiting beeped. A glance at the screen showed a number he didn’t want to see. His commanding officer’s.

  “Babe,” he said, “I’m sorry, but can I call you back? My boss is calling.”

  “Sure. But don’t forget.”

  He answered his CO’s call.

  Then he had his brother drive him to Bismarck Municipal Airport.

  And parachuted into Africa two days later.

  * * *

  TIFFANY POUTED WHEN Rowdy hadn’t called back within thirty minutes. She got a little teary when it was time to feed Mr. Bojangles his supper and Rowdy called, but before they’d said more than hello, the service dropped.

  When a week passed, she was pissed but assumed turnabout was fair play. He must be playing a tit-for-tat head game. She’d avoided him, so now it was her turn to feel the burn.

  But when two weeks passed, she made her first big house sale, Thanksgiving came and went, and she still hadn’t heard from him, worry took hold. Had he fallen ill? Been in a wreck? Should she ask Pearl for his mother’s number?

  “Fretting never solved any problem,” Pearl said as she took a fresh batch of oatmeal cookies from the oven. They reminded Tiffany of the time Rowdy had brought her cookies in bed. And how he was always doing nice things for her but she was always so snippy. “Neither did pretending you don’t give two figs about a man when you clearly do.”

  “What man?” Tiffany asked from the table, where she sat peeling potatoes. The last thing she needed was for Pearl to
get wind of the fact that as much as she’d struggled not to fall for Rowdy, she’d been stupid enough to do that very thing.

  There was so much she wanted to say to him, but he was gone. Had her constant complaining driven him away?

  “If you worry any louder, you’ll wake your lazy, spoiled-rotten mutt.”

  “Who said I’m worrying?” As for her dog, he slept on his zebra-striped pillow in front of the heater vent, oblivious to anything other than his own comfort.

  “We’ve both noticed,” Gigi said upon entering the room. “You haven’t been yourself since Rowdy’s been gone. But he’ll be back soon, you know.”

  “What do you mean?” She hugged her baby. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “Mom, are you kidding me?” Tiffany tossed the peeler into the metal bowl.

  “I just assumed you knew.” Gigi joined her at the table. “You get so prickly every time I bring up the wedding that I didn’t want to further upset you by bringing up the fact that Rowdy got emergency orders to ship out. His mom told me she doesn’t even know where he went or when he’ll be back. She hates how secretive he has to be, but I guess that’s part of his job.”

  He left without telling me?

  Right at this very moment, he could be in some godforsaken country alone in a ditch or hurt or...

  She refused to even think the last part. If he were to die without seeing his son—their son—Her breath caught at the back her throat.

  Pushing her chair back from the table, Tiffany made a mad dash for the bathroom to be sick.

  * * *

  TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, Rowdy stood in line with at least four dozen fellow SEALs, awaiting his turn to place his trident on top of Duck’s casket.

  The chain of events that had led him to this place and time still didn’t seem real. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that one minute Duck had been asking him for a stick of Juicy Fruit, and the next they’d heard the pop of enemy fire and taken cover.

  By the time Rowdy realized Duck was no longer beside him, it was too late. His body armor had done no good against a shitstorm of bullets.