Brock sighed. Melissa hadn’t told many people about her ovarian cancer diagnosis, preferring to pretend it would all work itself out and go away with the proper treatment. He rested his hand against the doorframe, trying to block the cold from seeping into the house. “Cancer. Quick and unexpected. The funeral was last week. Just locals and friends and family.” He left off the part that “family” meant just him. They’d had no other relatives after their father had died.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Melissa was a good woman.” Robin switched the now-fussy baby to her other shoulder. “And a great emergency foster parent for us.”
“Yeah, she was.” Oh boy. He suddenly didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
Her next words only confirmed his fears. “That’s why I’m here, actually,” she said, glancing at the growing storm clouds with a worried look. “Baby Aaron here needs a temporary home.”
Right. “Well, given the news, I’m sure you can find another family for him to stay with in St. Paul.” The population there was a lot larger than tiny Lake Bristow. Surely there were plenty of options to choose from. “Sorry you made the trip all the way out here, but you have a safe drive home, Robin.”
He stepped back inside and started to close the door, but the woman wedged her foot in the jamb at the last minute. “The thing is, Mr. Hardy,” Robin said, her voice filled with the same stern determination as his commanding officers at boot camp, “I can’t find another family for him after all. All of our foster homes are full in St. Paul, and Melissa was my last option.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Brock leveled his best no-nonsense stare. “But I can’t take a baby.”
He started to close the door again, only to hear the sound of more tires grinding up the long gravel driveway. What the—Brock scowled at the burgundy sedan rolling toward the house. Crap. Why did Monica Ingram have to show up on his doorstep now?
He shoved aside the memories of their ill-advised, hot-as-hell one-night stand from two months ago. He’d been home on emergency leave, having just gotten the news of Melissa’s cancer diagnosis. Falling into his ex’s arms for a night of comfort was not like him at all, and it left him a little embarrassed to be facing her now. She’d been wonderful, just as she always had been, but he’d been a goddamned mess, and it left him feeling awkward and unsure of where they stood, worried that she thought less of him now. He’d hoped to get out of town before the past had caught up with him. He’d seen her briefly at the funeral last week, but that had just been a quick hug and condolences with plenty of people around. Coming to his home was another matter entirely. Why was she here?
Monica parked behind Robin’s black SUV and walked up to the house, her long brown hair whipping in the wind, her pretty face pink from the cold, blue eyes sparkling. There was a serious, determined set to her mouth that he recognized all too well. She’d come here to tell him something, and she was going to speak her peace come hell or high water. His gut tightened.
Yep. Looked like he was in for a hell of a storm all right. One way or another.
Grab your copy of Protecting His Pregnant Ex
Available March 18, 2021
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BLURB
My priority has always been serving my country as a Navy SEAL.
But then my world is turned upside down and suddenly I have an adorable toddler to look after.
I won't be doing it alone—my sister-in-law Sam has joint guardianship.
But playing house with this firecracker of a woman is anything but child's play. It's been hard enough to ignore the electric chemistry between us at family gatherings, and now we're living under the same roof.
Hell Week was easy in comparison to keeping my hands off her.
I can't get distracted by the sparks between us, but doing so may be my toughest mission yet.
When Sam’s medical research work leads to growing threats against her, the safety of my new family is put in danger.
Now I’m ready to protect them—to protect what’s mine, at any cost.
Grab your copy of Protecting His New Family it’s 99c until January 25th 2021
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* * *
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Owen
“Owen, are you sure this is what you want to do?” my baby sister, Katherine, asked over the phone. “I mean we’re all reeling a bit. I can’t believe Carter and Lauren are gone.”
“Neither can I,” I said, feeling another wave of guilt strike.
“They were far too young.” Katherine’s voice expressed the anguish our whole family felt, but she couldn’t know how her words sliced through me.
She probably thought she was being helpful, commiserating with me, but every word she said made the pain and guilt surge stronger until my stomach roiled with them. Our big brother and his wife’s deaths in a car accident were my fault.
If I hadn’t gone on that date and lost track of time, if I had been where I was supposed to be, if I’d driven them to the ceremony as I’d promised to, they might still be alive. There was only one way to even begin to atone, and he was sitting in front of me, smiling. I restacked the blocks Myles had just knocked over and tried to smile at him when they crashed back to the floor, sending my nephew into fits of giggles.
“I’m sure about leaving the SEALs,” I said, returning to Katherine’s question. “I filed the paperwork yesterday to resign my commission.” Which was the easy part. Becoming a civilian and a dad was far tougher, but it was the reality of my life. I was now the guardian of a fourteen-month-old, and he deserved everything I could give him.
“I can hear Myles giggling. I’m glad he can be happy. I hope he doesn’t miss…” Katherine trailed off. Despite being three thousand miles away, Katherine got it. We were all worried about how Myles would adjust to suddenly having his parents taken from him. “I wish I could be there with you for all of this and not just for a few days for the Celebration of Life.”
“You’ve worked too hard to get into Juilliard to give up your dream,” I argued, well aware of the hours of rehearsal, the lessons, and the summer camps Katherine had completed to attend the prestigious arts school.
“I know. I just feel…at least Mom and Dad will be there soon to help you.”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering about my parents’ role in all this. They were the helicopter type, with a tendency to descend on a situation and take it over. As the middle child, I’d been lucky since the focus had largely been off me. Katherine had borne the brunt of it—first as the “oops” baby, born when I was seven and Carter was eight. Then, when her musical gifts had developed, our parents had focused on making sure she had the training she needed to succeed. When she was accepted to Juilliard in New York City, my parents moved to the East Coast to be near her and still tried to manage her life. I knew she struggled with that since she was twenty-one and wanted her independence.
Mom and Dad’s focus would shift to me and Myles now, leaving Katherine on her own. In the four days since the accident, Mom and Dad had already committed to returning to California to “help” me with Myles. In other words, they didn’t trust me to care for the toddler and wanted to be close at hand to swoop in when I screwed up. I blew out a frustrated breath, having no delusions about my parents’ motives. Nothing was going to be easy for a long while, but this wasn’t about me. It was about giving Myles as much care and love as possible. More people meant more love, right?
And then there was Sam. “I’ll have Sam here, too,” I said to Katherine, pushing away thoughts of my overbearing parents. Lauren’s sister, Samantha, had been named co-guardian for Myles along with me.
“How is she doing?” Katherine asked.
Sam’s life was as upended as everyone else’s. She’d lost her sister and become a mom overnight at a time when her medical research was apparently taking every minute of her time. She’d sounded pained and stressed the times I’d spoken with her. It was a sensation
I could identify with.
“Not sure. I’ve only talked with her on the phone so far. She’s dealing with subletting her apartment and something with her research. Once that’s squared away, she’ll be moving in—and we’ll actually start co-parenting together.”
“And you’re going to be okay living with her?”
“I have to be,” I declared, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. Samantha Mayfield was a problem. A beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed, smart as hell problem, who I’d once tried to pick up while in a drunken haze. Damn.
“I know you had a thing for her.” Leave it to my sister to have a good memory.
“Thanks for reminding me.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about that plenty in the past days. Sam and I decided in that first chaotic day after the deaths that it would be best for Myles to stay in his home for now. Less upheaval for Myles, and safety in numbers for the clueless adults trying to figure out how to be parents. Good for everyone, at least in the short term, but it meant Sam and I were going to live in Carter and Lauren’s house together for the next several months until we worked out a permanent custody arrangement.
“You’re over her though, right?” Katherine had always known how to dig for information.
“Sure,” I answered quickly. I hadn’t even seen Sam in two years, and she wasn’t my type at all, so I must be over her.
“Uh-oh, you’re not.” What had my sister heard in my one-word response to make her assume that?
“I’m fine. It’s just going to be weird to play house with her.” Weird, uncomfortable, awkward. Thank god she’d never received my drunken text asking her out, since I’d accidentally sent it to my brother. I winced remembering Carter’s reaction. He’d threatened to punch me if I went anywhere near Sam. I’d fought with my brother plenty growing up, but I hadn’t been willing to push him on this topic.
Ironic, then, that Sam and I were forced together by the terms of Carter and Lauren’s will. I’m sure my brother never expected his custody instructions to be necessary. Once again the unfairness of the situation hit me. It just wasn’t right that a Navy SEAL died in a god damn car crash. It wasn’t right that parents of young children died ever.
I stroked my hand over Myles’ soft brown hair, making him look up at me with a toothy grin. Someday, I’d have to tell him that his parents might be alive if I’d kept my word, stayed sober, and not gotten side-tracked by a pretty girl in a bar. I’m sorry, buddy.
“It’s all for Myles’ sake,” I said, pulling my thoughts back on target.
“Right, of course. Poor darling.”
I could hear the tears in my sister’s voice. We’d spoken every day since the accident. Painful calls.
“I’ve got a lead on a job,” I said to distract Katherine. “I wouldn’t start for at least a month, but I think it’s something I might like.” We talked about the security position I was interested in for a few more minutes until we were interrupted by the chime of the doorbell echoing through the house.
“Somebody’s here,” I said, knowing full well it was Sam. Time to face her and begin this co-parenting thing.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple days,” Katherine said. “Love you, Owen.”
“Love you, too.” I stood and scooped up Myles, putting him down in the playpen to keep him safe on my way to the door. He wasn’t walking yet, but the kid could crawl his way into trouble fast. The next months were going to be…
All my thoughts stopped when I opened the front door. Sam stood there. Had she been that gorgeous the last time I saw her? Her dark hair waved around her shoulders, and her bottomless blue eyes were made more intense by the glasses she wore.
Christ, the next months—make that years—of working closely with her to raise Myles were going to be a challenge for a lot of reasons.
* * *
Sam
“Hi,” Owen said from the open doorway.
I sucked in a breath. This was so real. He was so real. I’d spent too much time in the lab and somehow forgotten how ridiculously attractive Owen was. How had that happened?
And how was I supposed to live with that muscular build and bright blue eyes without making a fool of myself?
Very carefully. Methodically. He’s not a gorgeous guy I’m totally unfit to deal with—he’s a science experiment that I have to monitor and assess. That’s right. I can breathe a little easier. Except, the way he’s looking at me…
I glanced down at myself. Skechers, jeans, a Stanford University sweatshirt. All my clothes were on, which was a bit of a miracle, considering the past few days. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and forget the phone call I got four days ago that started this nightmare. Lauren was dead, as was her husband. My only sister gone. Just like that.
“Hello,” I said. “Am I early?”
“You’re holding a lamp,” he pointed out with a slight grin.
“Oh, this,” I said, looking at my hand that clutched the floor lamp. “There was a misunderstanding with the couple subletting my apartment. They thought it was unfurnished. I guess I grabbed something on my way out the door that made the place seem less…furnished.”
That sounded so profoundly stupid. For crying out loud, I had a Ph.D. in chemistry and medical research, and I panicked about a lamp. Owen’s grin turned into a chuckle. Great. He’s mocking me. That’s fine, but does he have to flash those adorable dimples while he does?
“We’ll find a spot for it,” Owen said, stepping out the door to take the large suitcase I’d brought. All the clothes I thought I’d need for the next several months were neatly folded inside. Fortunately, southern California’s temperatures didn’t vary that much.
“I’m sorry. It was silly to bring it,” I said, following him in and placing the lamp in the foyer, fussing a little with it to delay looking around Lauren and Carter’s home. I knew it was going to be devastating to be in their space, knowing that they would never return to it.
Eventually, I made myself look at the framed family portrait on the mantle, at my sister’s favorite scarf hanging on the hook behind the door as if she’d return any moment to loop it around her neck. I don’t want to cry I told myself. Not again. Not in front of Owen. I shifted my focus to him.
“Thanks for doing solo duty these past few days,” I offered, feeling guilty for not joining him sooner.
“I get it,” he said. “You needed to wrap things up. How’s the research?”
“Going very well, thanks. I’m at a critical juncture, but my lab partner can handle it from here.” Which was true, though I hated walking away at this point.
“You didn’t say what your research was about. Lauren told me something about a vaccine.”
“Yes, but this is different than what you’re thinking,” I said, eagerly latching onto the topic. My work was something I was always comfortable talking about. No matter how gorgeous my conversation partner might be. “The vaccine I’m developing isn’t preventative like polio or mumps. Instead, it’s meant to be given to a child who shows symptoms of Loorer’s Disease to prevent the advancement of the condition.”
“Loorer’s Disease?” he asked.
“Yes, it only afflicts children,” I explained, “usually between five and ten years old. Within a short amount of time, their muscle control fails until they can no longer walk or function normally. Eventually, the muscles associated with the respiratory system fail.”
“So they die.” His voice was surprisingly soft.
“Yes. There’s no cure, just treatments, expensive treatments, that prolong their lives.” The image of Katie slowly deteriorating from the disease came to mind. She was my best friend in the second and third grade, but by fourth grade she could no longer leave her house.
“But your vaccine would prevent this.”
“Not prevent,” she cautioned, “but it should stop the progression of the disease—allow the children to grow up and lead mostly normal lives.”
“Sounds amazing.” He seemed genuinely impressed.
> “It is. Or I hope it will be. We’re still years from the vaccine being publicly available. The process is long, but phase one is nearly complete, and it’s ready for the preliminary trials.” And then my research would be put to the test and my credibility assessed. If I were a few years older or male, no one would question what I’d accomplished. As it was, I’d fought for everything I’d achieved in a system dominated by men and money.
“I’ll do whatever I can so you can finish what you need to,” he offered, sounding genuine. “Then, we can both focus on Myles.”
“I appreciate that. He’s going to need us,” I agreed. That was the most difficult part. I’d seen the playpen out of the corner of my eye, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to look at it directly. Part of me wanted to rush my nephew, cuddle him close and revel in the fact that he was still with us—that we hadn’t lost him, too. But I was stalling on that, too, mostly because I was terrified. The little guy was now completely dependent on two people who knew nothing about raising a child. Deep down, I was terrified that I’d screw something up irrevocably as soon as I touched him. Thank goodness for next day shipping. At midnight two evenings ago, I’d placed several child-rearing books in my Amazon shopping cart. Research was imperative. Those books were now in my suitcase, waiting to be read.
Feeling stronger, I ventured another peek around. A wedding portrait of Lauren and Carter cutting their cake, an image of Carter holding Myles when he was a newborn, the afghan Lauren knitted in high school. Being in this house was soul-shattering. That was the word for it. The ghosts of my sister and Carter were everywhere in the furniture, the artwork on the walls, the scattering of books and magazines on the coffee table. How could I think a book would help me raise their child even a fraction as well as they would have? Was Owen feeling the same overwhelming panic?
If he was, he didn’t look it. Standing in the center of the living room, he looked relaxed and seemed confident, but maybe that was just the persona of a Navy SEAL. Don’t show weakness.
Guarding His Fake Family Page 20
