The Baby and the Cowboy SEAL (Cowboy SEALs 2)

by Laura Marie Altom

  Macy shrieked. “Henry! You pulled yourself up! You’re starting to walk.” To Wiley, she said, “Don’t move a muscle, I have to take a pic for his scrapbook or Mom will have my hide.”

  What a privilege to catch Henry pulling himself up for the first time. The kid’s father was missing that milestone in his son’s life, but Wiley had a front row seat. What other firsts might he be fortunate enough to witness if surrendering to the meds brought him enough solace to lay off the booze? Knowing the uphill battle his friends’ faced fighting pain-med addictions—some had been in drug addiction treatment longer than physical therapy—Wiley was beyond wary to climb on board the medication train, but what could it hurt to at least take them as prescribed for a week and then reassess his situation?

  * * *

  MACY DIDN’T TAKE one picture, but a dozen, then promptly texted them to her mom and Wendy. She next made Wiley a cheese omelet and toast. He took his meds with a nice big glass of OJ, and thirty minutes later became a new man, searching for a way to take Henry and Blinkie on their trek to mend fences.

  “Got it.” Wiley dashed toward the bedroom.

  If she hadn’t witnessed his transformation with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. When the medicine gave him this much relief, why hadn’t he taken it on his own? What was she missing?

  He returned, waving a faded red backpack. “Looks like I found Blinkie’s ride.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to like being crammed into that musty old thing.”

  “He will by the time I’m done with it.” He fished through a junk drawer for scissors, then cut a bunch of windows, and a skylight at the top. “Taa freakin’ daa.”

  “Hate to admit it, but that’s pretty cool. Have an old towel to put in the bottom?”

  He laughed. “This place has nothing but old towels.”

  “Since you’re being utilized for more important things, I’ll find the towel.” Henry had crawled to Wiley and now used him again for support, grinning at the cleverness of his new trick.

  “Hey, buddy. You look like future SEAL material.”

  “Agggghhhhh! Eeee!” Henry danced his soft baby boots atop Wiley’s bare feet.

  The sight of her tiny baby with the great big cowboy ruined any resolve Macy might have had to be cautious with her heart. Raising Henry without a father was hard, but her added workload had never been the main issue. Most of all, she hated knowing he’d miss out on all the special times he could have shared with his dad. Of course, she was being ridiculously premature, but what if Wiley kept improving? What if he eventually grew strong enough to view her as more than a temporary wellness coach?

  “Look at him go,” Wiley said. “He’s amazing.”

  Hope rose as surely in her chest as a holiday balloon, but then it burst when sanity returned. What was wrong with her? Spinning fairy tales about living happily ever after with the boy next door when there was nothing happy about either of their stories. Allowing herself to be even temporarily swept into a fantasy of the two of them being together was a fool’s game. She’d already been cheated on by one man she’d loved.

  Who was to say that once Wiley regained his health, he wouldn’t morph right back into the ladies’ man he’d once been? Back in school, he hadn’t had a few girlfriends, but an entire stable. What made Macy think she was anyone special?

  “You have an awesome kid.”

  “Thank you.” Needing distance to get her head back in the right place to spend all day working alongside Wiley, Macy asked, “We could be out a while. Should I pack a few sandwiches?”

  “I guess. But nothing too fancy. You know I hate picnics.” He lifted Henry into his arms, then headed to the back of the cabin before returning a few minutes later.

  “Where’d you go?”

  He brandished his pain meds. “Just in case.”

  “We won’t be gone that long, will we? You won’t need to take it again until six tonight.”

  “That’s why I said, just in case. It’s not a big deal.”

  But to Macy, it was. It meant a lot that he was thinking ahead. That implied planning and responsibility. It told her he cared about getting better, which was a very good thing. As for his disliking picnics, of course, she remembered. But maybe she could be the one to show him that when you shared them with the right person, they could be an awful lot of fun.

  * * *

  COULD MACY TELL what he was up to?

  They’d been walking their shared fence line for three hours, making needed repairs along the way, and had just stopped for their meal. While she changed Henry’s diaper, Wiley downed two more pills with bottled water—not a good sign. This was the very reason he’d fought taking them. They made it all too easy to pretend his strength had fully returned.

  Maintaining that illusion was costly.

  Keeping it together at the cabin that morning had been a struggle when she’d questioned him on why he was bringing the entire bottle. How did he explain the terror he’d felt when the drug’s freeing effect had worn off?

  As if one minute he’d stood at the edge of a cliff, and the next, been shoved off. He wasn’t going through that again.

  From now on, even though the dosage said to take two pills every eight hours, he’d take them every six—except when he was sleeping.

  He may be jumping the gun on this latest dose, but the physical labor was hell not just on his leg, but back and shoulders. After a few weeks of a daily work routine, he’d no doubt feel great. Until then, he’d use the pills as a crutch. Knowing he had time before becoming addicted made him all the more convinced this was a good idea. Once he regained his strength, he’d no longer even need meds.

  “There you go,” Macy said in a singsong voice to her son. “You’re all nice and clean.”

  The baby giggled.

  “That’s got to be the best sound on earth,” Wiley noted.

  “It’s pretty infectious.”

  They loaded the dog and child back into their respective carriers, then continued down the fence line. The going was rough—not just the rocky terrain, heavily forested with ponderosa pine and Douglas fir, but forging their way through thick undergrowth of elk sedge, creeping Oregon grape and bitterbrush.

  Beneath slanted sunbeams, they walked in companionable silence for a mile, stopping to straighten leaning posts or restring wire where branches had fallen. Odds were, they’d already patched Charlie’s escape route closer to Wiley’s cabin.

  “How long do you think it’s been since anyone’s been up here?” They’d stopped at an old campsite and found blackened rocks from a fire ring and a bunch of rusty tin cans. A few lantern hooks had grown into the trees.

  “I’d say at least forty years. Maybe not since Clem and Buster constructed it.” Wiley used his shirt sleeve to wipe sweat from his forehead.

  “Do you think our grandmothers went with them? You know, to make an outing of the chore?”

  He laughed. “I think you’re romanticizing what must have been a helluva lot of backbreaking work. Think about it. They had to haul all the supplies and tools, cut the posts as they went along, as well as dig the holes. Meanwhile our grandmothers were probably stuck inside, canning.”

  “Tell me about your grandmother.”

  “I don’t know much.” He used a hammer to pound in one of the staples that held the wire in place. The feed store carried handheld staple drivers, but he didn’t mind doing the job the way his grandfather would have. “Sylvia died when I was five. Grandpa dated a bunch, but never did remarry. She was a teacher—moved here from Chicago when she was fresh out of college. They met at a Memorial Day town picnic, fell in love and never looked back. Dad said her family was none too happy to have their fine, educated daughter end up with a mountain man, but they eventually got over it. By the time my dad was born, they’d even come ou
t for visits. She was the first teacher at what’s now the abandoned mountain school.”

  “Did you ever meet them—your great-grandparents?”

  “Nah. Everyone in my family has a nasty habit of dying young. Not sure why I’m even still alive.”

  “Wiley James.” Her glare was none too happy. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “Why? I’m not looking for sympathy, but genuinely curious. Why am I still here when my life feels pretty hopeless?”

  “I once asked the same thing. Rex had just left me. My baby bump was too big for me to see my feet, and I didn’t see the point of anything—except every so often, this little guy—” she jiggled Henry’s feet “—would kick. I took his every movement as a sign. Like the universe’s way of waving to get my attention. Sure, my life might have sucked back then, but not to the degree that I’d ever seriously considered checking out. Is that how you feel? Suicidal?”

  He shook his head. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Now, you’ve got me genuinely concerned.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “If you’re looking for a reason to live, think how much your pets need you.”

  He laughed. “Aside from Blinkie, that crew’s on autopilot.”

  “Okay...” From behind him, she sucked in a swift breath. “What if I confessed that I need you?”

  “Is this a hypothetical confession or the real deal?”

  “What if it is real? Maybe I do need you. Would that be so bad?”

  He froze, then turned to clamp his hands over her shoulders. “For you, that wouldn’t just be bad, but a full-on Texas twister of a disaster. Thought we’d already been over this?”

  “We have.” She raised her chin. “But what if I think the issue needs revisiting?”

  “I’d tell you you’re about three peaches shy of a bushel.”

  He left her to keep walking. Facing her hadn’t been good for his system. His pulse had gone haywire and his mouth dry. Being close to her was bad for business—especially when his business consisted solely of maintaining status quo. He needed more attachments as much as he needed another cluster bomb to his remaining good leg.

  “Know what I think?” She passed on his right, giving him too good a view of her amazing behind and little Henry giggling and pointing at yapping Blinkie.

  “Don’t care,” he said over the obnoxious dog.

  “I think you’re chicken,” she said, swiveling to face him.

  He snorted. “I think if you don’t stop walking backward, you’re gonna fall.”

  “You’ll catch me.”

  “Nope.”

  Sure enough, she tripped. If it hadn’t been for Henry, Wiley might have let her go down to teach her a lesson, but no way would he risk the baby being hurt on his watch. His reflexes were sluggish on the meds, but his hands connected with her waist in time to pull her up against him.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with his mouth an inch from hers.

  “Told you you’d catch me.”

  “I only did it because of your son.”

  “Uh-huh...”

  Her smile brought on a heat wave that had nothing to do with the day’s waning sun.

  “I think there’s a part of you, Wiley James, who, to this very day, still wonders what might’ve happened had my dad not interrupted.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Woman—” Wiley released her to keep right on walking “—stop talking crazy and get moving. Otherwise, we’ll never get this menagerie back to the cabin by sunset.”

  “Whatever. I still say you’re chicken.” Macy could razz Wiley all she wanted, but deep down, she was the one who’d been curious all these years.

  “I say your sassy mouth shouldn’t be writing checks your body can’t cash.”

  “Whoa—do you mean can’t or won’t? There’s a big difference.” He’d picked up the pace, and she had a devil of a time keeping up. His meds must be working overtime. “In your case, I think we’d be dealing with the latter.”

  He answered with an indecipherable grunt.

  It was another thirty minutes before they reached the corner where their grandparents’ shared property boundary ended, and national forest land began.

  “Let’s call it a day,” she suggested. “We’ll start here when we have more time.”

  “Agreed. Besides, I doubt even Charlie would make it this far from the pasture.”

  It took another hour to reach Macy’s cabin, and Henry cried the whole way.

  Charlie spit at Wiley as he passed.

  The lady llamas ignored them to keep right on grazing. Because of the shape of their grandparents’ land parcels, their pastures ran side by side.

  As if curious about the commotion, Lulu stood near her side of the fence.

  “What’s wrong with Henry?” Wiley called above the wails.

  “My guess is that he’s tired and has spent far too long in his carrier. Let me get all of us fed, and then we can walk back to your place for my truck.”

  “I’ll get it.” He shrugged off his pack. “Give me your keys, and take the dog.”

  “Are you sure?” She took Blinkie out for a cuddle. “This adventure has to have been rough on your leg, and it’s past time for your second round of meds.”

  With a jangle of her keys in the otherwise still night air, he waved off her concern. “I’ll take it when I get back.”

  Once he’d gone, she set Blinkie on the porch, then took off Henry’s carrier. He was still huffy and his poor eyes were red-rimmed and shiny with tears.

  “I’m sorry.” She carried him inside, holding open the door for the dog to follow.

  Blinkie remembered where she’d set his water dish and took a good, long drink.

  She deposited Charlie in his high chair, wet a rag at the sink to wash his chubby hands and face, then handed him a teething biscuit and the dog some plain yogurt.

  Now, what should she make for the grown-ups?

  After perusing her pantry, she settled on mac and cheese and salads. There was some venison sausage her dad made in the freezer, so she popped that in the microwave to thaw, then fed Henry pureed pears, pork and green beans. Tonight’s grown-up dinner might be too tough on his tummy. Some table foods made him irritable, so she’d been holding back until his nine-month wellness check, which was only a week away.

  By the time truck headlights reflected in the kitchen window, dinner was done. Macy sat at the table in the chair beside her son, balling yarn.

  “I was getting worried,” she said when Wiley strode through the front door.

  Blinkie barked, as if defending his home.

  “I had to feed everyone and put the horse and goat in the barn for the night—which reminds me, I still need to ask Doc if he knows of anyone wanting to sell a few goat companions.”

  “Want to use my phone?”

  “Nah. It can wait till morning.” He eyed the set table and still-steaming entrées. “This looks great. Thanks for cooking.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for getting my truck.”

  “My pleasure.” His gallant nod was swoon worthy. All day, she’d fought her physical attraction. His painkillers truly must be remarkable for him to be already back on top of his game.

  “How’s your leg? Take your medicine?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sat in the chair across from her. “Mind if I dig in?”

  “Please do.” Her chest swelled with unexpected emotion. The normalcy of this scene was almost too much to bear. When Rex left, she’d feared her life would never be normal again. Might be old-fashioned, but she’d adored being married. She’d enjoyed the comforting routines, and knowing if she heard a bump in the night she had big, strong arms to reassure her everything would be fine.

 
; Trouble was, her wedded bliss with Rex had been all one-sided. If she and Wiley did connect, would he love her as much as she suspected she’d be capable of loving him?

  At first, Wiley ate with gusto, but then slowed. His movements grew sluggish, as if operating underwater.

  “Are you okay?” she asked when he almost spilled the glass of iced tea she’d set next to his plate.

  “Perrrfect. Is it just me, or does it seem like we have a real nice family vibe going?”

  “It sure does.” Even though his slurred speech guaranteed the drugs were talking and not he, Macy didn’t care. She’d much rather see Wiley a little loopy than in pain.

  “If I’d come back to this mountain before screwing up my leg, I might have put moves on you, Miss Macy.”

  Her pulse galloped. “Oh?”

  “Shoot, I used to call my granddad every Sunday when I wasn’t overseas. Well, sometimes even then, but when you can’t find a phone, it can be surprisingly tough making a call.” He winked.

  Macy knew this was hardly the time to focus on his kissable lips, or the way she craved touching his stubble, but she couldn’t help wondering if she would be a bad person by using his mellow mood to her advantage?

  “So anyway, I was in Afghanistan—maybe Syria—and it was hot as balls, but I was talking to Granddad, and he told me to get home, because you were about to marry some damn fool, and the only one who could stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life was me.”

  “Wait—Buster really said all of that?”

  He crossed his heart. “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’...” There he went again with his wink. “Granddad pushed you like a drug until even I started thinking maybe we might at least hook up.”

  Hook up? She’d been hoping for something a little more romantic, but it was at least a start.

  A start to what? her grown-up conscience fairly screamed. This man is trouble with a capital T! Her giddy teenaged heart didn’t care.

  “How long has it been since you got any?”