The SEAL's Second Chance Baby (7 page)

“Good. Then we have a deal?” She held out her hand for him to shake.

“Hold up—not so fast.” He couldn't resist teasing her. “You mentioned that we'd be exchanging services. What do I get?”

“Oh—of course.” She reddened again, and he liked the rev it brought to his pulse. “Well, I can clean, exercise your horses, cook—”

“Yahtzee. Me and Wallace live on TV dinners and pork 'n' beans. How about a couple times a week, you bring over your crew and I'll take them out riding, teach them about horses and cattle, and hopefully sneak in a few life lessons? Meanwhile, you and Cass can be inside, whipping up a meat loaf or spaghetti—oh, and pie. Lord, I've missed pie.”

“Deal.” They shook on it. “I take it your wife was a great cook?”

“Yeah...” He hadn't thought anything positive about Leah in ages. Hard to believe they'd once been in love. Where had it gone? All the emotion he'd once felt for her?

“What's wrong? You look sad. If you're having second thoughts, we can—”

“I'm good. I was thinking about my ex. You ever wonder how a marriage that starts out promising turns out to be a dud? Like, I get losing our son was rough on us both, but how did we also lose each other?” Marsh hadn't meant to admit any of that out loud, but something about Effie gave safety to his confession.

She cupped her hand over his, filling him with warmth he wasn't sure he deserved but certainly appreciated. Once again, Effie had slipped into angel mode. She seemed to constantly be looking out for others, but when did she focus on herself?

He flipped her hand, clasping it, ignoring bolts of awareness of her not as a friend, but as a desirable woman. He glanced up to find her eyes wide and her pupils dilated. Her lips had been pressed, but now she held them barely parted. Effie Washington wasn't just pretty, but beautiful.

“There you two are.” Wallace approached.

Marsh released Effie's hand as if they'd been playing hot potato.

“My lady's all in a dither about the dessert course. She thinks the wedding cake is enough, but hell, I say let's have cake, pie and one of those fancy chocolate fountains.”

Marsh shared a look with Effie, and the two of them laughed.

“What's funny about any of that?” Wallace asked.

“Nothing at all.” Effie rose, then shocked Marsh by reaching out her hand to help him from the bench. The gesture was sweet. As soon as he was standing, she let him go. But a pang told him he didn't want her to.

Another pang told him he had to. He couldn't take another loss, and considering how much he'd grown to enjoy Effie's company, once they inevitably parted ways, no good could come. She'd eventually meet the kind of stand-up rock who could be a great second dad to her brood and adoring husband to her. She deserved all of that and more.

Hell, if his past hadn't been such a disaster, he might have even tossed his hat into her proverbial ring, but his days for romance were long gone. If he were smart, he wouldn't have agreed to spend time with her boys, but now that he'd already given his word, he intended to stick by it.

Why?
Not only was it the right thing to do, but he couldn't bear being the reason Effie lost her smile.

Chapter Seven

That night, after three exhausting attempts to get the boys to bed, Effie finally retired to the living room to fold laundry. Mabel was poring through a stack of bridal magazines, searching for the perfect dress.

It had rained all afternoon, and for once, the temperature was actually pleasant.

“What did you and Marsh talk about? You two were gone so long that you missed desserts.”

“Sorry. We actually agreed on a trade. Each week, in exchange for a few meals, he's going to spend time with the boys.”

“Hallelujah. That Colt is a rascal. While you were giving Cassidy her bath, I caught him outside, pouring my strawberry jam on an anthill to see what would happen.”

Effie groaned. “Hope they weren't fire ants?”

“If they had been, don't you think you'd have heard about it by now?”

“True...” Effie tossed another tiny T-shirt onto Remington's pile.

“Wallace told me he caught you and his grandson holding hands. Should we plan for a double wedding?”

“No.” Cheeks burning, Effie folded faster. “Marsh and I are friends—that's all.” Granted, he was stupid handsome, rocked the heck out of his cowboy hat and Wranglers, and was a serious sweetheart to her boys, but that's where the extent of her appreciation for him ended. One day she might think about dating, but not now. Not when her children needed to be her top priority and her soul still felt fragile from having her own personal bull rider stomp all over it.

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
on a Wednesday, after the twins had gotten home from school, Marsh had no sooner accepted delivery of the purchase he probably shouldn't have made but couldn't resist when she pulled up in her ragtag minivan.

Summer had returned with a vengeance, and he tugged his hat's brim lower to shade his eyes from the glare.

Looked as though the whole gang had come, as not only did the boys shoot like twin rockets from the vehicle, but Effie helped Mabel emerge, and then walked around the side for Cassidy.

While the twins were occupied with one of Wallace's corny quarter-behind-their-ears tricks, Marsh sauntered up behind Effie. “Need help?”

“Oh, hey. As a matter of fact, I could use a spare hand. The car seat buckle's stuck.”

“Let me take a look.” Marsh had expected Effie to move, but she didn't. Which presented a problem. Her proximity put him on high alert—for what, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that being close enough to smell roses in her hair momentarily made him freeze. He waited for the unwelcome awareness of her curves brushing against his to pass, but when it only grew stronger, he focused on finishing the task at hand.

A few hard tugs netted a freed baby, which sent him backing to a safe distance.

“Thanks.” Her smile had its usual effect—making him want to see more, to deserve more, to be the one person in her world who produced it the most.

“No problem.”

“Hope you like spaghetti—Mabel said it's Wallace's favorite.” She took the infant from her seat.

“Love it, but I thought this was my trade,” he teased. “Shouldn't you be fixing my favorite?” Once Cassidy rode on Effie's hip while tugging a chunk of her mama's hair, Marsh followed the pair to the van's hatchback for grocery-carrying detail.

“Sorry. I should have asked you first.”

“I'm messing with you. Trust me, I'll eat anything. One time in Argentina—”

“What was the US Navy doing in Argentina?”

“Nothing worth talking about. Let's just say one time when my team and I were out on a mission, the target we'd been following led us miles from our base camp. By the time we got back, even though we'd strung up our food supplies, freaking monkeys had eaten it all. With a good ten days left in the mission, we ate rats and slugs. So when I tell you I'll eat anything, I mean it.”

“Good to know.” Her over-the-shoulder grin played havoc with his gut. Damn, she was a beauty. Then there was her cutie-pie daughter blowing raspberries at him on her way into the house. As a pair, the two of them were lethal to his resolve to steer clear of females.

Judging by the happy shrieks coming from the side yard, Wallace had shown the twins his old tire swing.

“What do you have planned for the boys?” Effie asked.

“With your permission, we're going riding.” They'd reached the house, and since she had a free hand, she opened the front door for him to pass through. He tried not brushing against her, but with his hands full, failed. When his shoulder collided with a portion of her anatomy that was far too full and yielding to have been anything other than her breast, he lurched back as if encountering a second rattler. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.” Judging by her flushed expression, the moment had been equally awkward.

Eager to get his mind back to her twin boys rather than twin
assets
, Marsh said, “I got a great deal on a pair of ponies from a neighbor. Thought your guys might find them easier to ride than our quarter horses.”

“That's so sweet, but you didn't have to do that. How much were they? I'll find a way to reimburse you.”

“No need.” He set the groceries on the kitchen table. “I thought it might be good to teach the boys the responsibility of caring for animals. I know they help with your chickens and stuff, but...” He hadn't meant to come off like a parenting pro. “Not that you aren't already doing a great job of teaching them everything, but you know what I mean.”

“Sure.” With the baby still on her hip, she'd started unloading. “I get it. And trust me, if I thought I was a perfect parent, I wouldn't have asked for your help. It doesn't say much for my marriage that the thing I most miss about being a couple is having Moody's help with the kids.”

“That's understandable. Kids create quite a bond.” In his case, after Tucker's passing, he and Leah had both realized their son had been the only part of each other's lives that they shared. They'd tried counseling, but when Marsh kept missing sessions due to work, she'd called quits on their marriage, and honestly? He'd been relieved. Not seeing Leah meant not having to witness the blame written all over her face for their perfect little boy dying on Marsh's watch.

“I used to think so, but my ex has had no problem moving on. I think part of my discipline problem has been the fact that the twins somehow blame me for their father being gone.”

“You think so?” He folded her cloth shopping bags.

“I guess that assumption isn't an absolute, but it would make sense.”

“Maybe? But on the flip side—”

“Mom! Mom!” The back door practically exploded open and twin boy power rocketed through. “Guess what?”

Cassidy had been startled by the sudden noise, and looked huffy and on the verge of tears.

“What? And please use inside voices. Remember this isn't our home.” Effie jiggled her daughter and delivered playful, sloppy kisses to her cheek to coax back her smile.

Marsh parked against the counter, comfortable watching from the sidelines.

“Sorry,” Remington said. Last time they'd been together, Marsh noted a cowlick on the right side of his head that his brother didn't have.

“Mom!” Undaunted, Colt was louder than ever. “They have two ponies! And a swing! And we get to ride everything!”

“That's awesome. Marsh is pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah! Thanks!” When both boys ambushed him in a hug, Marsh was lost. He'd forgotten how easily affection was given at a young age. Everyone's your friend, and reality rarely extended beyond your immediate family, school and current best friend.

For Marsh, on the other hand, reality was a pint-size grave back in Virginia. But here, now, in this moment, he looked forward to an afternoon of showing Effie's little cowboys their way around a barn and then sitting down to a home-cooked meal. Part of him would always harbor guilt and shame and regret for feeling any happiness, but he wasn't opposed to helping others find theirs.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
—after a saddling lesson, then giving each boy a safety helmet for a ride to one of his favorite natural springs—Marsh showed the boys a fun way to cool down their ponies and his horse with supersize sponges and buckets of water he'd left out so they would give good evaporation cooling but not be too cold.

Of course, the boys ended up getting more water on themselves than the ponies, but that was all right. For their first day, they'd done great.

“Guys, come on in the barn, and let's put up your saddles and grab a few brushes.”

“Okay,” Remington said.

“No! I'm hot and wanna play in the water!” Colt jumped into the trough, in the process splashing out half the water Marsh had earlier added.

“Colt,” Marsh said, “get out.”

“No! You're not my dad and I don't have to!” He smacked his hands atop the water, not only wasting precious H
2
O, but spooking the ponies and Marsh's horse.

Marsh had wondered how long Colt's good behavior would last, and actually, it had been a lot longer than he'd expected. But now he had quite a situation on his hands that he wasn't sure how to handle.

Following gut instinct, while Remington watched, Marsh strode to the trough and planted his hands beneath Colt's scrawny arms, hefting him kicking and screaming out of the water.

“No! Stop! I wanna swim! I'm gonna tell my dad you're a bad person, and he's gonna punch you right in your ugly nose!”

Wow. That escalated quickly.

“Okay, first,” Marsh said after setting the dripping kid on a split-log bench in the corral's far end, “you're going to apologize to your brother, me, then the ponies and my horse for acting a fool.”

“No, I'm not! I hate you!” Colt tried getting up, but Marsh gently pushed him back down.

“Fair enough. But second, if you want to be a real cowboy, you need to learn respect—not just for your fellow cowboys, but the animals you depend on to help you do your work. Do you remember that day I got snake bit, and your mama found me on my horse?”

“Yeah...” He touched his chin to his chest.

“What do you think would have happened if my pal Whiskey hadn't carried me to your house?”

“You could've been dead!” Remington offered.

“True. But since I'm not, don't you think I'm awfully lucky I have such a smart horse? And don't you think because he's so good to me, I should be good to him?”

“I love my pony,” Colt said. “But I
hate
you!”

“I don't care.” Only Marsh did. It broke his heart to see Colt's outward demonstration of what had to be an awful lot of pent-up pain. But that was okay. He had a tough skin and wasn't going anywhere. Effie had done the right thing in asking him to help, and he wouldn't let her or her boys down. “Now, once you've cooled off, I'm going to need you to make those apologies, then refill the water trough, so the horses and ponies have plenty of clean water.”

“No!”

Remington said, “Colt, you're gonna be in big trouble.”

“Nooooooooo!”

Marsh joined the stubborn little mule on the bench, leaned back against the barn wall and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Rem, do me a favor and please brush your pony. Remember how I showed you?”

“Uh-huh!” He ran for the tack room.

“You guys about done?” Effie strolled up with Cassidy all smiles on her hip. “Supper's ready whenever you are.”

“I'm starving!” Colt leaped up, but Marsh gave him a gentle nudge right back down.

“Actually, we've got a bit of business to take care of out here. Remington's going to brush his pony, then he'll be right in. Colt's got a few more things to do, but I'm sure none of it will take too long, right, bud?”

“I hate you, and I'm not doing nothing!” He struggled to get up again, but Marsh held his arm against Colt's chest just firm enough to anchor the wriggling boy to the bench.

“Colt,” Effie warned in a low tone. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! He's a monster man and I hate him!”

“Mommy!” Remington ran to the corral fence to meet his mom. He held the brush. “Colt's been bad, but I was good!”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Through the wide fence slats, she smoothed his hair. “How about you finish up the chores Mr. Marsh has for you, then come inside to wash up.”

“Okay!”

Marsh couldn't get over the difference in the two boys. For all of their exterior similarities, on the inside, they couldn't be more unique.

Colt announced with crossed arms and a scowl, “I'm not doing nothing!”

“You're not doing
anything
,” his mother corrected, “and as long as Marsh has been kind enough to let you ride his ponies, you have to follow his rules.”

“No, no,
no
!” Colt added kicks to his shouting, startling the ponies and his baby sister.

Remington dashed off to soothe both ponies.

Marsh held his arm firm.

He and Effie shared a look.

First and foremost, Colt was her son, and if she didn't agree with his way of handling the situation, all she had to do was speak up and Colt would be off house arrest. When she gave him a barely perceptible nod, then mouthed
thank you
, he took that as his sign to proceed with his tough love.

“Rem, hon,” she called, “as soon as you're done, come inside. I made your favorite garlic toast.”

“Yum! Thanks, Mom!”

“No fair!” Colt hollered. “That's
my
favorite!”

“You're welcome, Rem. Colt, sweetie, hurry before supper gets cold.”

Colt growled and thrashed, but Marsh held firm. He'd broken horses and entire terrorist cells. A six-year-old kid he could handle—not that Colt needed breaking, but Marsh guessed he needed reassurance someone in his life cared enough about him to ensure he toed the line. Of course, his mother did, but for whatever reason, that wasn't enough.