The SEAL's Second Chance Baby

by Laura Marie Altom

  She’d meant to giggle, but the sound came out as more a throaty laugh she didn’t recognize as her own. In a heartbeat, he’d changed her, rearranged her every goal and priority until all that existed was this moment. The feel of him skimming his rough fingertips over her soft belly and inner thighs.

  He helped her out of her embarrassingly utilitarian white bra and panties. Before she had time to worry whether he’d noticed they were shabby from too many washings, he was kneading her aching breasts and placing openmouthed kisses between her thighs.

  She shuddered when he moved his kisses higher and hands lower, parting her and stroking her, fueling a fire that had been reduced to coals for far too long. How had she reached a point where she’d forgotten she was even a woman? Now that Marsh had given her this reminder, how did she ever let go?

  All too soon, a confusing rush of sensation and emotions flooded her in a rising, building storm. When her arousal reached its peak, in spite of the physical beauty Marsh had shown her, tears fell.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Yes. I just... This has all happened so fast, and—”

  “Then, baby, let’s slow it down.”

  “But I don’t want to. Being with you reminded me how deep-down lonely I’ve been, and I don’t ever want to go back to that dark place. But after tonight, we have to, you know?”

  “Who says?”

  “Common sense,” she said through a half smile. “I’ve got the kids, and you’ve got the Navy to get back to. Tonight can’t be anything more than a temporary respite. But I don’t want it to be. And that makes me sad. Why can’t I be happy with my lot in life? I’ve been blessed with three gorgeous children and my grandmother and parents. And you...”

  “Come here.” He pulled her into a hug. While he stroked her hair, she rested her cheek against his pounding heart. What did it mean that she wasn’t alone in her runaway attraction? Was this bond simmering between them purely physical, or could there be something more? Layer upon layer of confusion only crushed her more. She’d already put her children through one marriage falling apart. What if she gave Marsh a chance as at least being a boyfriend, only to once again fail? What kind of example would she be setting for her kids?

  “I—I have to go.” She bolted upright, giving him a light shove. Even though the room was mostly dark, she covered herself with the throw blanket from the end of the bed. “I’m, sorry. I’ll reimburse you for the cost of the room. But I need to get home to my kids.”

  He covered his face with his hands and sighed. “You’re killing me.”

  “Marsh, please.”

  “Okay...”

  She found her panties and bra, then her dress, then locked herself in the bathroom to slide all of it on in the dark, because she couldn’t bear to look at herself in the mirror. Finally, sheer logistics forced her to flip on the light, but she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Shocker—she looked beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and hair a tousled mess. She no longer looked like a mom, but like the fulfilled woman Marsh had made her feel she was.

  What am I doing?

  She sat on the closed toilet seat.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.” No! She was still sexually frustrated and craving more kisses, and after making love, she wanted desperately to fall asleep in Marsh’s safe, strong embrace only to wake to find herself still there in the morning sun. But that was just fantasy, and her real life consisted of twin boys and a baby girl who needed her far more than she needed another man who would only inevitably hurt her.

  She swiped silent tears.

  “I’m dressed. Say the word and we’ll go.”

  He was so kind and respectful. What made her assume that just because Moody had hurt her, Marsh would, too?

  “Marsh?”

  “Yes?”

  “After losing your son, do you ever feel like you’re destined to be alone? Like for being stupid enough to make mistakes that solitary confinement is all you deserve? But in my case, that’s even worse, because I’m surrounded by little people who need me—are worthy of me—constantly being at my best.”

  “Come out of there. I want to show you something.”

  She rose to meet him at the door.

  In the room’s cramped entry, he took her hand, then led her to a sofa. He turned on a side table lamp before removing three photos from his wallet. He fanned them for her to see.

  The first was of an infant, swaddled in blue. “This is Tucker on the day he was born. Leah had a rough delivery and fussed about his head being misshapen, but I thought he was the most spellbinding creature I’d seen in this world. I—” His voice caught, and Effie’s heart ached for him. “Before having my son, I don’t think I ever really knew what it was like to love. I mean, I loved my wife, but it was different. What I felt for Tucker was all consuming—but in a great way. He made me strive for not just better, but perfection as a husband and father.”

  The second image was of a towheaded boy blowing out two candles on a chocolate cake that he’d already managed to partially wear on his cheek.

  Marsh forced a breath. “By the time Tucker was two, I had this parenting thing down. With the same precision I used for studying military maneuvers, I researched everything from child psychology to the healthiest snacks to toys that were both safe and enriching. When my wife gave him a GI Joe for his second birthday, I snatched it away, biting her head off for giving him a gift that wasn’t age appropriate. The look on her face right after I called her out in front of our family and friends wasn’t cool. She brushed it off like nothing had happened, but deep down—” he patted his chest “—I knew I could have handled it a dozen more kind ways.”

  The third image was of a three-year-old running to catch a Frisbee on the beach. His hair had grown longer and darker and his smile reminded Effie of Marsh’s. “This photo was taken about thirty minutes before Tucker died. He was playing Frisbee with the older son of one of our friends. The kid overthrew the Frisbee—no big deal, you know?” Silent tears streamed down Marsh’s cheeks. Effie yearned to comfort Marsh, but in the same breath suspected this story was something he needed to get out. “It skipped into the water and Tucker chased after it. That particular beach was known for its pristine sand and isolation from the tourists, but it also had nasty riptides, so I’d warned him not to go out past his knees. Even for a little guy, he was a strong swimmer—I made sure of that. After all, he’d grow up to be a SEAL, right? Just like his old man?”

  He choked on a teary laugh. “It was near sunset, and the wind was blowing a good fifteen knots. I was having a bitch of a time starting a driftwood fire for hot dogs, and my buddies Rowdy and Grady were razzing me for screwing it up. I was so intent on proving them wrong that I didn’t see Tucker run into the water. Leah had been asked to be in her best friend’s wedding and was ogling bridal magazines with a few other women. By the time I got the fire started, this kid named Benji wandered over to report that he couldn’t find Tucker. I freaked. I ran into the water, but it was already too late. My son floated in the surf like flotsam. I carried him to shore, gave him mouth-to-mouth and CPR. My wife called 911, but he was too far gone for any of that. My most precious possession was already taken. But here’s the thing...”

  He sniffed, swiping at still-tearing eyes. “Tucker never was a possession, but a precious gift. All along, I didn’t get that. I was careless, and those few minutes of neglect cost everything.”

  “Oh, Marsh, no...” Effie drew him to her, and now she was crying while he sobbed against her chest. “Honey, what happened was an accident. A horrible, tragic, unfathomable freak of nature thing that could have happened to anyone.”

  “But it wasn’t just anyone who lost their son, Eff. It was me. And now—at least, until tonight, with you—I�
��ve felt like an empty shell. No—it was sooner than that. The first time I thought the future might actually be doable was when your Remington was having fits about his eyeball falling out. That cracked me up. I’d forgotten how funny kids can be, and being around your boys and baby Cass feels good. Almost meant to be. Then, there’s you. You’re comforting and nurturing and all at the same time one hundred percent woman. I can’t pinpoint how or when it happened, but Effie, I’m falling for you—all of you—and part of me feels guilty for wanting to once again be happy. For letting my son die, I never deserve to smile again.”

  “Marsh, no. Tucker wouldn’t want you to live your life miserable and alone.” But then if that were true, by her own logic, shouldn’t the same rationale apply to her own situation? Moody had long since moved on. Why couldn’t she?

  Why shouldn’t she?

  “We’re quite a pair, huh?” He held her as if she were a lifeline, and she held him right back.

  “Yeah. So what are we going to do?”

  “For now?” He kissed the crown of her head. “I guess get you home. After that, I don’t have a clue.”

  Effie no longer wanted to go home. She wanted to stay.

  To climb back into that huge, pillowy bed and cuddle and talk and hold and be held. She wanted to finish what she and Marsh had started. She wanted to feel him—all of him—deep inside her. But what did he want? For even though he’d shared what had to have been some of his darkest secrets, in the grand scheme of things, what did that really mean? It brought them no closer to a resolution on issues she didn’t even fully comprehend.

  * * *

  IT WAS A moonless night, and for Marsh, the long drive to Effie’s was made all the longer by the concrete silence between them. They hadn’t passed a car or house in miles. The isolation was as unsettling as it was complete.

  The sensation was akin to a night dive, plunging headfirst into inky unknown, not wanting to go forward but knowing your only other option was to go back, which was really no option at all.

  “Are we good?” she asked a few miles from their shared dirt road.

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t feel like it.” Her voice struck him as sad.

  “What do you want me to do?” He didn’t mean to sound short, but the night had been rough—physically and emotionally. Why had he shared so much? Why did he now feel naked and raw? As if she could see straight through to his soul?

  “Nothing. Sorry I said anything.”

  In the dash’s dim lights, he saw her turn away.

  “Aw, Eff...” He turned onto their road but stopped short for an armadillo waddling across the dirt.

  They both stared at the tottering critter, then back at each other to laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No, I’m sorry. I took things too far, too fast, and you weren’t ready.”

  “Oh—but I was ready, but felt guilty about it. Like some harlot who couldn’t wait to jump your bones.”

  “Trust me—” he laughed “—I wanted my tired old bones jumped.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “For starters, how about we both stop overanalyzing every little thing and just see where our days—or nights—take us?”

  “I could do that.” She unfastened her seat belt to cozy against him.

  He pulled the truck to the deserted road’s shoulder and killed the engine in favor of resting his hands on more satisfying curves than the steering wheel.

  Kissing her felt so damned good. She mewed against him and damn if they weren’t right back where they’d started with him straining his fly and her grinding against him.

  He slid his hand up under her thin cotton dress, all too easily finding himself once again fingering the moist haven between her legs. She came just as fast, only this time, when she worked off his belt buckle and then lowered his fly, she whispered in his ear, “Still got those condoms?”

  Hell, yeah.

  After some fumbling and laughing and sharing the general awkwardness stemming from groping in the front seat of a pickup as opposed to a nice, soft bed, he lifted her on top of him and then slipped into home. Though it had been a while for them both, their bodies moved on pure instinct to the age-old rhythm.

  He didn’t last long, but then neither did she. When the act was done, she clung to him, and he to her, and with their heavy breathing fogging the windows, for once in a very long time, he felt almost whole.

  “What are you doing to me?” Effie rested her forehead against his.

  “Likewise. Is this going to be a problem? Because honestly, I’m still craving more.”

  She giggled. “Me, too. But I have church early in the morning.”

  “Honey.” He kissed her again full on her gorgeous lips. “I don’t think this sort of activity would be a welcome topic of conversation in your Bible class.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “All right, so for now, let’s get you home, then worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

  “Deal.”

  Only they ended up using a second condom before he was veering his truck back on the road. Good thing that armadillo was short, or he’d have gotten quite a show.

  * * *

  THE LAST THING Effie expected was for Wallace and Marsh to end up sharing a church pew with her, Mabel, the twins and Cassidy, but now that they were, focusing on the sermon was an impossibility.

  The sermon topic was on the importance of truth, which reminded Effie of her white lie that morning when Mabel had asked what kept her and Marsh out so late. A flat tire had sounded better than doing it on the side of the road.

  Just driving past the scene of their crimes had reddened her cheeks to the point that her grandmother asked if she was coming down with a cold.

  Now, with Cassidy having fallen asleep on Marsh’s shoulder and the boys coloring in their Sunday school activity books on either side of him, she figured if the pastor could see inside her guilty heart, he’d have given her a real talking-to. Not only had she lied to Mabel, but to Marsh and most especially to herself.

  When she’d told him what happened between them was no big deal, nothing could be further from the truth. Oh, at the time, she’d wanted to believe she could be the sort of woman for whom casual sex was the norm, but here, in the light of day, she realized the gravity of what she and Marsh had done.

  All the little things they’d shared had a cumulative effect—from simple walks in the park to working with the boys to that day at the police station when he’d been her rock. Now, when Colt took Marsh’s hat from the pew to plant it lopsided on his own head, her heart squeezed in a not entirely unpleasant way. When he caught her staring, he winked and then grinned, and she was lost.

  No, they most definitely hadn’t just had sex—well, maybe he had—but from her point of view, they’d made love. But she couldn’t love him, could she? That sort of thing took time, and she’d known him barely a few weeks.

  The sermon thankfully ended, and Marsh hefted sleepy Cassidy onto his shoulders, keeping one hand securely on her while holding Remington’s hand. Colt, still wearing Marsh’s hat, trailed behind while humming their last hymn.

  “You’re looking mighty fetching this morning, Miss Mabel.” Once they all stood on the small white chapel’s lawn, Wallace stole a kiss from his betrothed. The day was sunny and warm with the sky a fathomless blue. It was the kind of perfect day that made a body believe anything possible—especially in the presence of a guy who made her tingle clear from her head to her toes.

  “Thank you,” Mabel said with a big smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You could have knocked me over with a feather when you and your strapping grandson showed up. I thought you don’t care for preaching?”

  “I don’t.” He kissed her again. “Marsh decided he needed some, but what
I really think is that he just wanted an excuse to see your Miss Effie and her brood.” He nodded to the small playground where Marsh helped Cassidy into an infant swing while the boys played with their friends on the slide.

  “I think you’re right,” Mabel noted with one of the sly smiles she used when she thought she was smarter than everyone else. She nudged Effie. “While you two were slaving over that flat tire, did you give any thought to that double wedding?”

  “Grandma!” Effie figured since the church cemetery was close, she might as well keel over from embarrassment. “You know Marsh and I don’t think of each other like that.” Only, they did—at least, she did. But not anymore, right?

  She stole one more glance in Marsh’s direction to find him pushing Cassidy, who shrieked with the sort of smile generally reserved for bath time.

  Who am I kidding?

  She’d fallen for Marsh harder than a chubby kid for cake.

  Now, the question was, what did she plan to do about it?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Why don’t you save us all a lot of grief and marry the girl?”

  “What?” Marsh sat behind the wheel of his truck, following Effie in her fancy new SUV out of the church lot.

  “Don’t think it escaped my attention how you moon over the girl and her babies.”

  “I don’t moon.”

  “Oh, you moon something fierce. Why else would we now be stuck in churchyard traffic when we could be out on the back porch, sipping Budweisers and watching the horses in the pasture?”

  “Whatever.” Marsh pretended to focus on the mini traffic jam, but inside, he was a mess. Honestly, he hadn’t stepped foot in a church since Tucker’s funeral. The only reason he had today was because he had to see Effie again—sooner as opposed to later. He needed reassurance that what they’d shared was real.

  “Don’t whatever me. That girl’s a bona fide saint, and if you don’t tie her down soon, some other two-bit cowboy with a flashier truck than you will.”

  “Great.” Marsh finally made it to the main road. “So now it’s not only me you’re putting down, but my truck?”