Christmas Cookie Baby (SEAL Team: Holiday Heroes Book 1)

by Laura Marie Altom

  Scooting up in bed, Rose tucked Colby’s hat under her pillow and switched the TV back on.

  She found a repeat of Beachfront Bargain Hunters, and reached for her trusty can of squirt cheese on the bedside table. It was empty, as was her bag of licorice.

  Pouting, she’d resigned herself to spending the afternoon watching other people make their dreams come true when a knock sounded at her door.

  Startled, she put her hand to her belly, then smoothed her hair into a neat ponytail. “Who is it?”

  “Me.” Colby.

  Scrambling from the bed as fast as possible with a belly the size of hers, she then crossed the room, opening the door to pull him into a hug. “I thought you had to fly to Global this afternoon.”

  “I did. I went fast, so I could get back to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed her while cradling his hands on either side of the baby. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  “Your grand tour?”

  “Of what?”

  He kissed her again. “What do you think? Kodiak Gorge.”

  “COLBY!” ROSE COMPLAINED on the tenth dusty step of Schlump’s Hardware. The creaky old staircase was dark and musty—downright spooky. She found it odd that the hardware store was on the town tour, but Colby insisted she had to see the supposedly haunted building.

  She sneezed.

  “Bless you.”

  To use him as both protection against ghosts and a tow line, she tucked her fingers into his back pockets. “I’m exhausted. Are we almost there?”

  “Just a couple more steps.” At the top, he stood aside to make room for her, then said with a flourish of his hands, “Ta-da!”

  All she saw was an equally dusty, dank and gloomy hallway, at the end of which, creepy pale red light spilled through a stained-glass window. She flinched when something scurried into the room two doors down from where they stood.

  “This isn’t funny,” she said. “People catch diseases from places like this.”

  “Oh, quit complaining.” He grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Back at the lodge. I think I smelled home-baked peanut butter cookies—and you know how much Nugget wants me to drink milk. Doesn’t that sound like an awesome pairing? Way better than ghosts and rats.”

  As he took her by the hand, Rose caught his frown. “That man has poured enough milk down you to open a dairy.”

  “Colby!” Reddening, she swatted his behind.

  “Is it just me, or have you been doing an awful lot of butt touching on this trip?”

  “No!”

  “Not that I’m complaining…” Leaning against a wall that had been shellacked in old newspapers, he slipped his hands around her waist, lowering his mouth to hers for a delicious kiss.

  “Mmm…” she teased. “This tour is definitely looking up.”

  “Any idea where you are?” he asked.

  “The perfectly dreadful second story of Schlump’s Hardware?”

  “Nope.” He kissed her nose. “You happen to be standing in a piece of Kodiak Gorge history.”

  “Oh?” She raised her eyebrows, trying not to breathe for fear of contracting some rare form of lung disease from all the dust.

  “This very spot happens to be the infamous Dot’s Bordello.”

  Rose choked on her saliva. “Dot? Our Dot ran a bordello?”

  “Nah, her great-grandmother.”

  “Interesting…”

  “And in this room right here,” he dragged her into the same space the scurrying suspected rat had vanished into, “Schafer Kingsley shot Barnabas Riley in cold blood for sleeping with Felicity Holmes.”

  Rose grimaced, taking a backward step, but Colby pulled her alongside him. Driving rain hit the room’s only window.

  Rose shivered.

  “The event was in all the papers from Anchorage to San Francisco. Schafer shot the poor bastard straight through his family jewels. That night, Felicity hanged herself off the second-floor balcony.”

  “What happened to Schafer?”

  “He was publicly hung a week after.”

  “And you brought me here why?” Rose walked deeper into the gloom, the soles of her sneakers cracking broken glass.

  “Well, first off, because the place is famous. It’s been on two Travel Channel ghost show specials and starred in its very own History Channel documentary on Alaska.”

  “Oh.”

  “Still not impressed?”

  “Well… It’s more than sad, Colby, it’s—”

  “Tragic.” He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. “If you come here at, say, two a.m., folks say you can still see Barnabas and Felicity dancing.”

  Baby Nick kicked.

  Rose jumped from the unexpected motion.

  Laughing, Colby said, “Somebody’s enjoying the tour.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know better. What kind of tourist town is this? Don’t you have any fudge or ice cream shops?”

  “Rough customer, are you?”

  “Yes. I paid a lot for this tour.”

  “What? One measly kiss?”

  “I think we’re up to two or three now, thank you very much.”

  A cold breeze blew through the room, skittering three yellowed newspapers across the wood plank floor.

  “Harvey?” Colby called, assuming the store’s owner must have opened a window. When the chubby proprietor didn’t answer, he winked, then said, “Let’s get out of here before Schafer starts shooting again.”

  “THIS MORE TO your liking?” Colby asked fifteen minutes later as he led Rose into the ethereal glow of the town’s chapel. The building had been constructed of native stone mined from the gorge. The pews had been carved from Sitka spruce. Red carpet, which he’d heard had been a scandalous gift to the church from Dot’s great-grandmother, lined the center aisle. Several candles flickered on the altar. Outside, rain still fell, hammering the tin roof.

  “It’s beautiful,” Rose whispered.

  “The steeple was carted all the way from San Francisco on mules.”

  “The whole way?”

  “Well, not the whole way. I imagine part of the journey was by ferry, but still.”

  “Do you ever attend services here?”

  “Occasionally. I used to come more, when Mom was still in town. She dragged me every Sunday when I was a kid.”

  “I think it’d be nice being part of a church like this.”

  Colby caught a wistful edge to Rose’s simple statement. “Your family never went to church?”

  “My dad…” She bowed her head, almost as if in shame. “He was violent. Angry about life never going his way. He took out that anger on me and my mom. One night, he drank too much, got mad at me for playing my Spice Girls CD too loud during Monday Night Football. He got even madder when Mom tried to stop him from bashing me repeatedly on the side of my head with the metal CD player.” Parting her hair over her left ear, he held back a gasp to see a long, pale pink scar. “It took over a hundred stitches to put my scalp back together. Mom fared even worse. And… M-my sweet, little Samson…” She paused to fish a handful of tissues from her purse that she used to blot her eyes. “Dad went directly to prison and never passed go. Since he died behind bars, we thankfully never saw him again. For a while, we skipped back and forth between friends and family, but once Mom met Jim—husband number two—we moved in with him. Their honeymoon didn’t last long. From there, things get blurry. So many stepdads. So many houses that were never quite homes…”

  “Babe…” Suddenly, it all made sense. Her reluctance to commit. To trust. After what she’d been through, could he blame her? Squeezing his hands into fists, if her bastard father hadn’t already been dead, Colby was angry enough that he could have done the job himself. “Sorry doesn’t seem adequate.”

  She shrugged. “You have nothing to apologize for. And anyway, it’s all in the past.”

  How could she believe in le
tting a higher power work things out for the best if she didn’t believe in said power at all? “Where do you stand on religion?”

  “I spent a summer helping out a Peace Corps friend in Senegal. Pretty standard stuff. We helped build a village clinic. When it was done, people from miles around came to see the doctor. Little kids with strange growths coming out of their backs and heads. Old people blind from cataracts that here in America would be fixed in a routine outpatient procedure.” Staring straight ahead, she ran her fingers back and forth along the smooth back of a pew. “I saw a man in his prime die from an infected wound on his ankle. I saw a woman die of old age, surrounded by those she loved. I saw three babies born, and those births, more than anything, made me see what a miracle life is. A crazy, happy miracle none of us have any idea how to control.”

  “Yeah, but you can do your dead level best to guide it.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.”

  “So what happened to us on that mountain—who could’ve predicted that? You yourself checked the weather before we left and said it was safe for flying. We both thought we were going to die, yet here we are. I never would’ve dreamed I’d become pregnant my first time with a man, yet all of it happened.”

  “Your point being?”

  Shaking her head, she sharply exhaled, sliding onto the pew beside him. “I guess that is my point—that there’s no rhyme or reason to any of what we go through.”

  “If that’s the case, why fight it? Why not just go along for the ride?”

  “Because I can’t. I have to be in control.”

  He took her hand, rubbing the tender spot between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Growing up, I never felt secure. Not until I’d entered college and could follow my own set of rules. After what happened with my father, I was never again in physical danger, but I also can’t say I ever felt truly settled.”

  “All of which explains a lot. You don’t trust men because they have a habit of hurting you.”

  “Yes.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “Not all men, Rose. Not me.”

  “I know,” she said. “That’s what makes this decision over whether or not to marry you all the harder. Yes, after the time we’ve spent together, leaving you would be one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. But if I marry you, and if we have ten happy years together before our relationship falls apart, that just might hurt more than I can bear.”

  Leaning forward, he tried to say forever with a gentle kiss. An eternity later, he pulled back, and he whispered, “Marry me, Rose Foster. Not just for the son I love, but because I love you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  WHETHER ROSE BELIEVED him or not, Colby meant what he’d said back at the church, and he hoped here, now, in the loft bedroom he’d helped construct with his own hands, he could again use his hands and his heart to build on his relationship with the mother of his son.

  “I love you,” he said, unzipping the pale blue jacket of her latest jogging suit.

  “I love you, too,” she said, arching her head back when he kissed her throat. “But I don’t know why or even how you could love me. I’ve given you nothing but grief since I got here.”

  “True,” he teased, easing her jacket off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall with a whisper to the carpet. “But every time you annoy me, you have this uncanny knack of reeling me back in.” Outside, rain still fell. Inside, he gently drew her white T-shirt over her head, then kissed a trail along the outline of her pretty pink bra. “I loved the way you cared for my cuts after I fell down the lodge’s front porch stairs.”

  “I thought you said I was a bad nurse.”

  “I lied. You were the best. Tender and caring, just the way I’d want you to be with our son.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her jogging pants, inching them down, letting her use his shoulders for support when he lifted her right foot out, then her left. “I love the way you got so excited over catching a fish, yet you didn’t go all squeamish when it came time to eat him—unless I count those tears I saw in your eyes when you thought I wasn’t looking. But I will count them, because they tell me you understand Alaska on a basic level—that, up here, nature is a gift to be used but also respected.”

  “Know what I love about you?” she asked, lifting off his navy-blue T-shirt.

  He shivered from the sensation of her cold fingertips on his chest. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Let’s get you under the covers.”

  “I’m fine.” On her tiptoes, she planted butterfly-soft kisses along his collarbone and throat. “I love the way every time I turn around, you’re wondering if I’m cold. All the time getting me blankets. Tucking in my toes.”

  “They’re cute toes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Undoing the top button of his jeans, then another and another, she knelt before him, kissing each inch of skin beneath his black cotton boxers that she bared. “I wasn’t going to mention this,” she said, glancing up at him, gaze sparkling. “But since I’m here, I love how your last boxers had airplanes, but tonight’s little dancing bears are adorable.”

  “Just so long as we keep them a secret just for you.”

  “Scout’s Honor,” she said, solemnly looking up before bursting into another grin. “Where was I? Oh—I love the way you didn’t yell at me when I let the boat get away.”

  “That was pretty boneheaded,” he teased.

  “I suppose you could’ve done better?”

  “In case you forgot, I used to be a Navy SEAL.”

  “I’ll concede that point. So yes, you absolutely could have done better. But in my defense, right after my knot lesson, you gave me a refresher course on kissing. Could I really be blamed if your second lesson overrode the first?”

  “Case closed. I’ll grant you a pardon.”

  She yanked extra hard on his jeans. “I also love your cooking, and the way you forgave me for nearly setting your cabin on fire.”

  “Nearly?” He choked back a laugh. “Seems to me you were well on your way, darlin’.”

  “Do you want to hear the rest of my list, or not?”

  “Only if it’s truthful.”

  After getting his jeans the rest of the way off, she stood. “How’s this for truth?”

  They’d shared many kisses over the week, even more during their wild night in his plane, but none came close to rocking him the way this one did. It was not only the first time they’d kissed with their true feelings exposed, but the first in broad daylight with her big, bare belly rubbing his.

  What a turn-on. He’d done that.

  He’d made a baby—well, not entirely on his own, but he had played a big part in his son’s creation.

  Falling to his knees, he kissed the miracle inside his wife-to-be’s bump. While she clung to his hair, he pulled her pink cotton panties down, helping her step clear. Then he was fumbling at her back to unhook her bra and wishing he was more of a ladies’ man when it came to lingerie removal.

  “Dammit,” he said. “Why the hell don’t they make these things with an emergency release?”

  She laughed, parking his hands on her full breasts before reaching back to accomplish the task herself. “You know,” she said, “I think you actually did a better job of bra removal in the cramped cargo area of your plane.”

  “You’re right. Probably felt more like the back seat of a parked car.”

  “You were one of those guys, huh?”

  He laughed. “I wish. There were four kids in my graduating class—all guys. My friend Heath’s girl, Raven, was a junior, but she’d been pretty much taken since the all-school picnic back in sixth grade.”

  “Bummer.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Where is he now?

  “Still serving. Stationed out of San Diego.”

  “Where’s Raven?”

  “Sadly, no clue. We all lost touch years ago.”

  “Well, you big stud—on a happier note, finally, here’s
your chance to have your way with a naked, willing woman.” Grinning, she held out her arms.

  Laughing along with her, he tried smoothly getting her into bed, then positioning himself on top of her, but the task proved tougher than planned.

  Lying on his side, his hand in the hollow of her hip, he said, “Okay, is it just me, or does Nick make for a logistical nightmare in, ah, certain adult areas?”

  Bunching pillows under her head, Rose said, “Seems to me you’ll just have to get more creative to reach our goals.”

  “I will?”

  She winked. “After all, you’re the one who got me this way.”

  “Woman, are you always going to be sassy?”

  She took a second to think, then said, “Pretty much.”

  “Guess I’ll have to learn to live with it.”

  And learn he did.

  He started by shushing that sassy mouth of hers, making it impossible for her to speak, only moan.

  “Colby, I—”

  “Shh…” He ducked his head between her knees to have a little fun.

  “Oh…” She braced her fingers in his hair, tugging so hard he winced. He repeated that trick with his tongue—the one that had gotten her hot even in driving snow. Judging by how much harder she was now pulling his hair, he guessed she still liked that particular move.

  She squirmed, but he held her in place, nipping her inner thighs, and then further up until she bucked and moaned in time with his tongue. It didn’t take long for her to climax.

  In the meantime, he was literally dying for his own release.

  He tried shifting on top of her, and she tried making way, but there was no getting past her belly.

  “Let me try something else…” He shimmied free of his boxers, wishing it was dark so she wouldn’t see him standing at attention. His big idea for a new position proved another epic fail that landed them in a tangle of sensation-flooded limbs right back where they’d started.

  “What’re we going to do?” she asked. “You’ve got me feeling more than a little desperate.”

  “Trust me,” he said, forcing back a growl, “the feeling’s mutual.” He sat up, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay, let’s think. We’re two reasonably intelligent adults, surely we can—got it.”