And now Alex was cursing, not out loud, but still… Eager to make amends to his wife through his daughter, he turned his nose into Lexie’s soft, sweet cheek and told his wife, “You never need to explain where the baby monitor is, sweetheart. You’re Bradley’s mom, the best mother in the world. But you need to be in bed.” Then to Lexie he asked, “Want to go see your baby brother? Maybe put Mommy to bed with him?”
“Shhhhh, Daddy. He’s sleeping,” Lexie reminded him like a big sister would. “Baby boys need lots of sleep because they’ve got lots of growing up to do, but someday, Bradley’s gonna be just like you.”
“And me,” Mel piped up.
Alex rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mel would butt into a private conversation between a father, who actually worshipped his children, and his only living daughter.
“Yes, I’ll go with you two,” Kelsey interrupted quickly. “Mel, please, help yourself to anything you want. Libby left an entire turkey dinner in the refrigerator. The microwave’s over there. Warm up a plate. I’ll be right back.”
The bastard had the nerve to grin at Alex like he was the king of this house and Alex was just a lackey.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned the cocky old fart at his table. Because I’ll be back too, and then you and me are going for a one-way ride…
Briskly, Kelsey led Alex down the hall, past the saferoom where Lexie’s toys lay strewn on the carpet. “Sweetheart, I thought I asked you to pick up your playroom?” Kelsey’s brows lifted.
Alex set Lexie to her feet. She was a strong-willed little girl. She could handle whatever her mom was going to dish out. But when her pink cherub lips pinched into the cutest damned pout, Alex had to look away before he smiled or worse, laughed out loud. Her terrible twos had never manifested, but her fearsome threes were making up for that lost childhood phase.
“Uh uh, Mama,” she said quite clearly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to, and you can’t make me.”
“Are you sassing me?” Kelsey asked.
Alex wished Mel wasn’t sitting back there with his feet up and listening. Probably laughing his ass off.
Lexie whined, “But I wanna go see Bradley with Daddy, and then I’ll do my chores after I give him another kiss. Pleeeease?”
“No, sweetheart. You’ve had enough chances, but each time, you’ve ignored me. Please go sit in the time-out corner while me and Daddy have a talk.” Chores and discipline were a hard rule with Kelsey. She was sure children were ruined if raised without structure and love. Real love, the hard kind, not the soft kind that turned children into demanding, entitled monsters who thought they deserved participation trophies for showing up.
“Mommy, no!” Alex’s pride and joy stomped her little foot. “I promise I’ll do my chores, but only after I get to kiss Baby Bradley again!”
The battle lines were drawn. Alex kept his mouth shut.
Kelsey cocked her head, pointing to the little navy-blue chair in the far corner of the high-tech safe room Alex had built for his family, which Lexie believed was her playroom. “Now, young lady,” she said firmly and without a tinge of anger. “You know the rules.”
“Awww…” Lexie cried, real tears this time, the little scoundrel. “Fine then, Mama. I’m going to pick up my toys.”
“You’re too late, sweetheart. I should only have to ask you once to be a good girl. Time-out. Move it.” Again, Kelsey pointed to the corner.
With attitude, Lexie marched to the chair that was just her size, picked it up, and tossed it across the room at her mother. “I don’t wanna follow no rules no more!”
There it was, Lexie’s last full measure.
“Who do you think you are, young lady?” Kelsey asked quietly, as immoveable as the Rock of Gibraltar. That was the thing about her. She never raised her voice to her daughter, yet she never gave in, either.
For some reason that innocuous question floored Lexie. Her mouth dropped open. She came to a full stop where she stood. Those flashing eyes of hers scanned first Kelsey, then Alex. She blinked like she didn’t know what just happened. Her entire countenance changed from naughty to incredibly sad. Her bottom lip quivered. With real anguish this time, she cried, “I Lexie, Mama. Don’t you remember me? Did you forget? I Lexie!”
Alex looked up at the ceiling, trying hard not to laugh while his eyes brimmed with stinging tears of love. How could anyone forget his Lexie Rose?
“Chair,” he told his daughter, the one who would be the death of him someday. God, she was a rascal. How could Kelsey resist this precocious little angel they’d created? So what if she came with horns? She was so damned cute.
“Okay, Daddy,” she mumbled through her tears. “I’ll be a good girl now.”
If Kelsey hadn’t been standing there, he knew damned well he’d have been on his knees hugging that sassy, smarty-pants. Worse, he’d have forgiven Lexie, helped her do her chore, maybe even have done it for her. They’d both be kissing Bradley by now, maybe enjoying a root beer float with the cute little bendy straws Lexie liked. But he wasn’t, because Kelsey was the strong parent, not him. He was the slave. A total fool for the women he adored.
“We won’t be long,” Kelsey warned her daughter sternly. “If you have everything picked up by the time we get back, I have a surprise for you.”
“Okay!” Lexie cried with gusto. Man, she could turn those tears on and off at the drop of a hat. Which made Alex an even bigger fool.
Two doors down, he entered his sanctuary with Kelsey one step ahead. “You should be in bed,” he told her.
“I will as soon as Libby gets back. Promise.”
The moment he closed their bedroom door, she spun on her heels. “Can’t you see what’s going on with your dad, Alex?”
“Other than he’s lying to you, no. Mel’s a con artist, sweetheart. He’s only here because—”
“Because he’s an old man, Alex. He’s got nowhere else to go, and he’s got dementia. Maybe Alzheimer’s.”
“He’s what?”
Kelsey fell into Alex’s arms, her fingertips softly patting his collarbones under his suit jacket. “He’s nearly seventy-five, honey. He was much older than your mother when they married. I looked up their marriage certificate online when he told me that, because, well…” She shrugged. “I don’t trust him any more than you do.”
“But he slapped your ass. I saw him hit you.” Any other guy would’ve already died for that. Why not good old Mel? Seemed fair.
She tossed her head as if that mortal sin were nothing, and over Alex’s hands on her shoulders tumbled all that dark chocolate hair. There wasn’t a part of his wife that Alex wasn’t addicted to, and the glimmer off those dark brown tangles reminded him how he was wrapped around her little finger.
“Oh, for goodness sake. Old men do stuff like that all the time. It means nothing. They just forget who they’re with, and sometimes, even what day it is. When somebody comes along who reminds them of someone else, like their wife or girlfriend or mother, they lose touch with reality, and sometimes, they behave inappropriately toward that person. He didn’t mean anything when he grabbed my butt. Trust me. I’ve seen this kind of thing happen with some of the older guys who wander into Raymond’s Place. He needs help, Alex. Our help. I can’t just toss him into the street because you’re still mad at him.”
Raymond’s Place was the home for runaway teenagers that Kelsey managed across the Potomac River in Washington, DC. Originally intended as a safe haven just for teenagers, she’d taken in more than a few homeless vets over the years. Quite a few of them worked for her now.
“Other old guys have slapped your butt? And you didn’t tell me?” That needed to stop.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, knock it off. It means nothing. Especially not from elderly men who have nowhere to go and no one to watch out for them.”
Her overly kind perspective of his old man set Alex back. “Are you sure he’s sick?”
�
�I’m no doctor, but yes, sweetheart. Mel isn’t the same person who left you and your mom. He might act tough, but I’ll bet he’s just a shadow of the man he used to be. The older he gets, the more help he’ll need. McKenna said she’d stop by and give him a quick assessment this afternoon. There are ten signs that’ll tell us what we need to know. She gave me the name of a geriatrician who’ll see Mel today. I already made an appointment. It’s at three o’clock. If you take him, I’ll call McKenna and tell her there’s no need to stop by.”
“Today?” Well, damn. Alex lifted his fist to his lips, his course for the day already set in stone, plotted, and ruined. “I guess that means you want me to take Mel to see this doctor, this geriatrician.”
Of course. Kelsey had just had a C-section. She should be in their bed, sleeping with that little boy she’d delivered yesterday moring, while Lexie hovered and fussed about. Not traipsing across town, dragging an ornery old cuss who might get handsy with her between here and there, to a doctor’s appointment.
“I think he’ll feel more comfortable with his son at his side instead of a woman he barely knows, don’t you? I know you’re tired, but this is important.”
Damn it. Kelsey was formidable when she set her mind to any task. But talk about having the rug pulled out from under his feet. This was not how Alex saw this morning going. He’d been up the night before last with Kelsey, then all last night with his TEAM. He was tired, and now he was pissed. But never at Kelsey.
“Whisper and Smoke should be inside the house with you,” he told his dearly beloved. They were his former Army EOD canines. His guard dogs. The beefy four-legged fellows that adored Kelsey and Lexie, would die for them. Would kill for them, too.
“I’ve already fed them. The boys are fine. Will you go with your dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Alex replied reluctantly, pressing his lips to the center of her forehead, behind which was a very intelligent brain. So much for reining in the thunder. He closed his eyes, his migraine starting up all over again. Usually, the moment he came through his garage door and into his kitchen, it backed off. But seeing Mel at the table had brought everything crashing back. And now this…
“Libby brought a complete turkey dinner over for us. She knows how much you like stuffing, gravy, and cranberries.”
“So I heard.”
“She made pecan and pumpkin pies, too,” Kelsey wheedled.
Alex looked down into the deep brown eyes of the woman he adored. He prided himself on having very few weaknesses, but Kelsey was his greatest. So was pecan pie. “With whipped cream?”
“Whipped cream with nutmeg…” She said with plenty of sexual innuendo.
His stomach growled and his body hardened. “Breakfast first, then I might indulge.”
Kelsey could read him like a book. “You can’t indulge for two more months, sweetheart, but I’d let you have all the pie you want today.”
“You will, huh?” God, he loved this woman. “I almost laughed out loud back there,” he confessed. “That little girl of yours gets smarter every day. She’s just like you.”
“Uh uh. She’s more like her dad.”
“No, Kelsey. She’s you all over again, and someday, she’s going to bring some guy home, and I’m going to have to kick his ass.”
“I can see the fight now,” Kelsey breathed into the hollow of his neck. “Who do you think will win, Lexie or you?”
He had to laugh even as his mouth descended over Kelsey’s. “I have a feeling I’ve already lost.” And didn’t that make him the winner?
Chapter Twenty
Maddie slipped out from under Jameson’s arm, out of his room, and back into hers. She showered and dressed, combed her long hair out, and twisted it while it was still wet into a loose chignon. Morning was long gone, but these men would need food and she meant to serve. In the kitchen, she made a large pot of coffee, then decided they needed breakfast again instead of lunch. It was early afternoon, but she knew these guys. So, she whipped up a batch of easy bake cinnamon rolls and put them in the oven, then lined up two pounds of bacon on the side-by-side built-in griddles. She whipped up two dozen eggs and had everything smelling good and herself looking perfectly innocent and normal, by the time Harley yawned his way to the coffee pot.
“You’re my kind of girl,” he mumbled as he poured a cup, his sandy colored hair sticking out at every angle but smooth. “Mmmm, is that bacon? You sure know a way to a man’s heart, darlin’.”
Harley slipped into a Texas accent every so often. He’d served at Fort Hood after he’d joined the Army. Was a professional dog handler, then. But he raised Malinois and German Shepherds now, even trained them to be service dogs for other veterans. And he adored his wife, Judy. She brought their twin boys into the office whenever she came into Alexandria. Little A and Georgie, one redheaded like his mom, the other Harley’s mini-me. Both had their dad’s rangy build.
Watching him interact with his boys always teased the green-eyed monster inside Maddie. What would it have been like to have had a father like Harley? Or Alex or Mark or Eric or—sheesh, just about any TEAM male, for that matter? They were all so in love with their wives and children, and it showed. It was hard to be around them and not feel sorry for the parental love she’d missed in her own childhood. It wasn’t their fault, so she shook that pleasant/unpleasant reminder off. But if she were ever to marry—
Not. Going. There.
The only one she avoided at TEAM HQ was Junior Agent Tripp McCain. Thank goodness he’d been assigned to the Seattle office and would finish training in Alexandria by the end of the month. The man was former Army, amber-eyed, blond with straight hair, and as handsome as the other guys. He was tall and big-boned, muscular in the way of Mark and Zack, and he had a way of commanding attention when he entered the room. But talk about cold and unfriendly. Maddie avoided him, hadn’t any idea why Alex hired Tripp, or how the other agents could stand to speak with him. Yet they did. Which separated her as a civilian from those who’d served. The few times she’d spoken with Tripp, he’d stared at her as if she were an annoying fly buzzing too close for comfort. He didn’t even have to wave her off to get her to leave. If anyone was a fly in the TEAM ointment, it was Tripp McCain.
Eric showed five minutes later, smelling of manly shower gel and deodorant with a whiff of fabric softener. Like her, he was wearing a clean TEAM polo over black jeans from the supplies stocked in each bedroom closet. She might not be an operator, but she was on the job, and she wanted him to know she took it seriously.
“You talk to Alex yet?” Eric asked Harley.
“Yup. Called him soon as I woke.”
“You told him you’re staying?”
“You bet.” Harley lifted his cup and gulped a hearty swallow. “Figured he already suspected I might be leaving. Wanted to burst that bubble before he fired me.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Maddie asked, her hands inside two protective mittens as she lifted the extra-large baking sheet out of the oven. “You’re thinking of leaving us?” That would be just plain awful. Harley was the heart of the office. Everyone liked the good-natured jokester.
“No, ma’am, not The TEAM. Never. But I did tender my notice to the veterinarian I worked under. I loved what I was doing, and animals will always be part of who I am, but holding down two hard-charging jobs was burning me out. Missed my wife and kids. Was always running out on them, and something had to give. I sure as heck wasn’t quitting the job I love best.”
Eric’s nose twitched. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”
“Cinnamon rolls,” Maddie said, blushing at how he always made her feel like she belonged. “They’re almost ready to eat. How many do you want?”
“All of them?” he teased, his dark brown eyes sparkling like a babbling brook of coffee.
“Hey, Porky, now hold on. That just ain’t happening,” Harley drawled. Of all the agents, he was the biggest kidder.
“I’ll arm wrestl
e you for them.”
“Pshaww, no way. You’re a heavyweight, I’m just…” Harley yawned. “…about to whup your big, hairy butt. Step on up, wise guy.” He was bouncing on his feet on one side of the breakfast bar by then, his elbow planted on the counter and fluttering his fingers, egging Eric on. “Come on, don’t be scared. You want all them cinnamon rolls, you’re gonna have to go through me. Let’s see what you got.”
“Guys, stop.” Maddie giggled. “No fighting in my kitchen. ’Sides, they’re my cinnamon rolls, and I get to decide who gets one. So sit down and be quiet. Jameson is still sleeping.”
Harley’s brows lifted. “Just one?” he asked as if that were cruel and inhumane punishment.
Ah, she loved all these guys. But mostly, the comatose man down the hall, the one who’d been sound asleep on his belly when she’d left his room.
Eric’s cell beeped a cheery tune. He turned into the open area between the kitchen and hallway and settled onto one of the extra-large recliners that bracketed the leather sofa. “Hey, Shea. How’s things at home?”
Maddie tried not to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help picking up the word Alzheimer’s in the conversation between Eric and his wife. None of her business. She set the warming trays on the bar, then placed the platters of scrambled eggs, bacon, and cinnamon rolls on the trays. She’d already set out plates and utensils. The men could serve themselves.
Harley’s cell chimed next, and there was Maddie, in the same room as two very capable covert agents and, as always, still alone and not quite belonging. Slicing three mega-rolls out of the twelve, she stashed them in the microwave for Jameson, where hopefully, no one else would find them.
She quelled the urge to sneak back into his room and snuggle back under the covers with him. But what if what happened in his bedroom was just one of those crazy things like Eric said happened after intense combat or life and death situations? She’d die of embarrassment if Jameson didn’t want anything to do with her today. Office romances were the ultimate mistakes only losers made, and she’d made everything worse by sleeping with a man she’d just met. What was she thinking?
Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22) Page 18
