The SEAL's Secret Heirs (4 page)

If so, he couldn't do it. It seemed unnecessarily cruel and besides, he needed the help.

“I didn't think you were. It's admirable that you want to care for them, but there's a huge learning curve and they won't do well with a big disruption. Let's take it one step at a time.”

He could do that. You didn't drop a green recruit into the middle of a Taliban hotbed and expect him to wipe out the insurgents as his first assignment. You started him out with something simple, like surveillance. “Can I watch you feed them?”

“Sure, when they wake up.”

They tiptoed from the room and Kyle considered that a pretty successful start to Operation: Fatherhood.

Next up, Operation: Do Something About Grace. Because he'd lain awake last night thinking about her more than he'd wanted to, as well. Somehow, he had to shut down the spark between them. Or hose it off with a big, wet kiss.

* * *

Grace sat in her car outside of Wade House and pretended that she was going over some notes in her case file. In truth, her stomach was doing a cancan at the prospect of seeing Kyle again, and she couldn't get it to settle.

She'd gone a long time without seeing him. What was so different now?

Nothing. She was a professional and she would do her job.
Get out of the car
, she admonished herself.
Get in there and do your assessment.
The faster she gathered the facts needed to remove the babies from Kyle's presence and provide a recommendation for their permanent home, the better.

Hadley let her into the house and directed her to the second floor, where Kyle was hanging out with the babies. Perfect. She could watch him interact with them and record some impartial observations in her files.

But when Grace poked her head into the nursery with a bright smile, it died on her face. Kyle dozed in the rocking chair, Maddie against one shoulder, Maggie the other. Both babies were asleep, swaddled in soft pink blankets, an odd contrast to Kyle's masculine attire.

But that wasn't the arresting part. It was Kyle. Unguarded, vulnerable. Sweet even, with his large hands cradled protectively around each of his daughters. He should look ridiculous in the middle of a nursery decorated to the nth degree with girlie colors and baby items. But he looked anything but. His powerful body scarcely fit into the rocking chair, biceps and broad shoulders spilling past the edges of the back. He'd always been incredibly handsome, but on the wiry side.

No more. He was built like a tank, and she could easily imagine this man taking out any threat in a mile-wide radius.

It was a lot more affecting than she would ever admit.

And then his eyelids blinked open. He didn't move a muscle otherwise, but his keen gaze zeroed in on her. Fully alert. Those hard green eyes cut through her, leaving her feeling exposed and much more aware of Kyle than she'd been a minute ago. Which was saying something, given her thoughts had already been pretty graphic.

It was heady to be in his sights like that. He'd always looked at her as if they shared something special that no one else could or would be involved in. But he'd honed his focus over the years into something new and razor sharp. Flustered, she wiggled her fingers in a half wave, and that's when he smiled.

It hit her in the soft part of her heart and spread a warmth she did not want to feel. But oh, my, it was delicious. Like when he'd taken her hand in the parking lot last night. That feeling—she'd missed it.

She'd lain awake last night imagining that he'd kissed her the way she'd have sworn he wanted to as they stood under that streetlight. It was all wrong between them. Kissing wasn't allowed, wasn't part of the agenda, wasn't what should happen. But it didn't stop her from thinking about it.

She was in a lot of trouble.

“Hi,” she murmured, because she felt that she had to say something instead of standing there ogling a gorgeous man as he rocked his infant daughters against an explosion of pink.

“Hi,” he mouthed back. “Is it time for our visit already?”

She nodded. “I can come back.”

She didn't move as he gave a slight shake of his head. Carefully, he peeled his body from the chair, not jostling even one hair on the head of his precious bundles. As if he'd done it a million times, he laid first one, then the other in their cribs. Neither one woke.

It was a sight to see.

He turned and tiptoed toward the door, but she hadn't moved from her frozen stance in the doorway yet. She should move.

But he stopped right there in front of her, a half smile lingering on his lips as he laid a hand on her arm, presumably to usher her from the room ahead of him. His palm was warm and her skin tingled under it. The feeling threatened to engulf her whole body in a way that she hadn't been
engulfed
in a long time.

Not since Kyle.

Goodness, it seemed so ridiculous, but the real reason it hadn't been hard to stop dating was because no one compared. She was almost thirty and had only had one lover in her life—this man before her with the sparkling green eyes and beautiful face. And she'd take that secret to the grave.

Her cheeks heated as she imagined admitting such a thing to a guy who had likely cut a wide swath through the eligible women beating a path to his door. He hadn't let the grass grow under his feet, now, had he? Fathering twins with a woman he'd written off soon after spoke loudly enough to that question.

If she told him, he'd mistakenly assume she still had feelings for him, and that wasn't exactly true. She just couldn't find a man who fit her stringent criteria for intimacy. Call it old-fashioned, but she wanted to be in love before making love. And most men weren't willing to be that patient.

Except Kyle. He'd never uttered one single complaint when he found out she wasn't hopping into his bed after a few weeks of dating. And oh, my, had it been worth the wait.

The heat in her cheeks spread, and the tingles weren't just under his palm. No, they were a good bit more in a region where she shouldn't be getting so hot, especially not over Kyle and his brand-new warrior's body, laser-sharp focus and gentle hands.

Mercy, she should stop thinking about all that. Except he was looking at her the way he had last night, gaze on her lips, and she wondered if he'd actually do it this time—kiss her as he had so many times before.

One of the babies yowled and the moment broke into pieces.

Kyle's expression instantly morphed into one of concern as he spun toward the crib of the crying infant. Maddie. It was easy to tell them apart if you knew she was the smaller of the two girls. She'd worn a heart monitor for a long time but Grace didn't see the telltale wires poking out of the baby's tiny outfit. Hopefully that meant the multiple surgeries had been successful.

“Hey, now. What's all this fuss?” he murmured, and scooped up the bundle of pink, holding her to his shoulder with rocking motions.

The baby cried harder. Lines of frustration popped up around Kyle's mouth as he kept trying different positions against his shoulder, rocking harder, then slower.

“You liked this earlier,” he said. “I'm following procedure here, little lady. Give me a break.”

Grace hid a smile. “Maybe her diaper is wet.”

Kyle nodded and strode to the changing table. “One diaper change, coming up.”

He pulled a diaper from the drawer under the table, laid the baby on the foam pad, then tied the holding straps designed to keep Maddie from rolling to the ground with intricate knots. Next, he lined up the baby powder and diaper rash cream, determination rolling from him in thick waves. When the man put his mind to something, it was dizzying to watch.

With precision, he stripped the baby out of her onesie and took a swift kick to the wrist with good humor as he changed her diaper. It didn't help. The baby wailed a little louder.

“No problem,” he said. “Babies usually cry for three reasons. They want to be held. Diaper. And...” A line appeared between Kyle's brows.

Then Maggie woke up and cried in harmony with her sister.

“Want me to pick her up?” Grace asked.

“No. I can handle this. Don't count me out yet.” He nestled the other baby into his arms, rocking both with little murmurs. “Bottle. That was the other one Hadley said. We'll try eating.”

Bless his heart. He'd gone to Hadley for baby lessons. He was trying so hard, much harder than she'd expected. It warmed her in a whole different way than the sizzle a moment ago. And the swell in her heart was much more dangerous.

The bottle did the trick. After Kyle got both girls fed, they quieted down and fell back asleep in their cribs. This time, he and Grace made it out of the room, but when they reached the living area off the kitchen,
flustered
was too kind a word for the state of her nerves.

Kyle collapsed on the couch with a groan.

“So,” she croaked after taking a seat as far away from him as possible. “That was pretty stressful.”

“Nah.” He scrubbed his face with his hand and peeked out through his fingers. “Stressful is dismantling a home-made pipe bomb before it kills someone.”

They'd never talked about his life in the military—largely because he was so closemouthed about it—and judging from the shadows she glimpsed in his expression sometimes, the experience hadn't softened him up any, that was for sure. “Is that what you did overseas? Handle explosives?”

Slowly, he nodded. “That was my specialty, yeah.”

He could have died. Easily. A hundred times over, and she'd probably never have known until they paraded his flag-draped coffin through the streets of Royal. The thought was upsetting in a way she really didn't understand, which only served to heighten her already-precarious emotional state.

He'd been serving his country, not using the military as an excuse to stay away. The realization swept through her, blowing away some of her anger and leaving in its place a bit of guilt over never acknowledging his sacrifices in the name of liberty.

“And now you're ready to buckle down and be a father.”

It seemed ludicrous. This powerful, strapping man wanted to trade bombs for babies. But when she recalled the finesse he used when handling the babies, she couldn't deny that he had a delicate touch.

“I do what needs to be done,” he said quietly, and his green eyes radiated sincerity that she couldn't quite look away from.

When had Kyle become so responsible? Such an
adult
? He was different in such baffling, subtle ways that she kept stumbling in her quest to objectively assess his fitness as a parent.

“Did you give any thought to our discussion yesterday?” she asked.

“The job? I signed on to head up Wade Ranch's cattle division. How's that for serious?”

Kyle leaned back against the couch cushions, looking much more at home in this less formal area than he'd been in the Victorian parlor yesterday, and crossed one booted foot over his knee. Cowboy boots, not the military-issue black boots he'd been wearing yesterday. It was a small detail, but a telling one.

He'd quietly transitioned roles when she wasn't looking. Could it mean he'd been telling the truth when he'd said he planned to stay this time?

“It's a start,” she said simply, but that didn't begin to describe what was actually starting.

She'd have to adjust every last thing she'd ever thought about Kyle Wade and his ability to be a father. And if she did, she might also have to think about him differently in a lot of other respects as well, such as whether or not he'd grown up enough to become her everything once again. But this time forever.

Four

K
yle reported to the Wade Ranch cattle barn for duty at zero dark thirty. At least he'd remembered to refer to the beasts as cattle instead of cows. Slowly but surely, snippets of his youth had started coming back to him as he'd driven to the barn. He'd watched his grandfather, Calvin Wade, manage the ranch for years. Kyle remembered perching on the top rail of the cattle pen while Calvin branded the calves or helped Doc Glade with injured cows.

Things had changed significantly since then. The cattle barn had been rebuilt and relocated a half mile from the main house. It was completely separate from the horse business, and Liam's lack of interest in the cattle side couldn't have been clearer. His brother had even hired a ranch manager.

Kyle could practically hear the rattle of Grandpa rolling over in his grave.

He'd always insisted that a man had to manage his own business and Calvin hadn't had much respect for “gentleman” ranchers who spent their money on women and whiskey and hired other men to do the work of running the ranch. Clearly Liam hadn't agreed.

The red barn dominated the clearing ahead. A long empty pen ran along the side of the building. The cattle must be roaming. Kyle parked his truck in a lot near a handful of other vehicles with the Wade Ranch logo on the doors. Easing from the cab, he hit the ground with bated breath. So far, so good. The cowboy boots were a little stiff and the heel put his leg at a weird angle, but he was going to ignore all that as long as possible.

He strolled to the barn, which had an office similar to the one in the horse barn. But that's where the similarities ended. This was a working barn, complete with the smell of manure and hay. Kyle had smelled a lot worse. It reminded him of Grandpa, and there was something nice about following in Calvin's footsteps. They'd never been close, but then Kyle had never been close with anyone. Except Grace.

The ranch manager, Danny Spencer, watched Kyle approach and spat on the ground as he contemplated his new boss.

“You pick out a horse yet, son?”

Kyle's hackles rose. He was no one's son, least of all this man who was maybe fifteen years his senior. It was a deliberate choice of phrasing designed to put Kyle in his place. Wasn't going to work. “First day on the job.”

“We ride here. You skedaddle on over to the other barn and come back on a horse. Then we'll talk.”

It felt like a test and Kyle intended to pass. So he climbed back into his truck and drove to the horse barn. He felt like a mama's boy driving. But he was in a hurry to get started and walking wasn't one of his skills right now.

Maybe one day.

Liam was already at the barn, favoring an early start as well, apparently. He helped Kyle find a suitable mount without one smart-alecky comment, which did not go unnoticed. Kyle just chose not to say anything about it.

A few ranch hands gathered to watch, probably hoping Kyle would bust his ass a couple of times and they could video it with their cell phones. He wondered what they'd been told about Kyle's return. Did everyone know about the babies and Margaret's death?

Sucker's bet. Of course they did. Wade Ranch was its own kind of small town. Didn't matter. Kyle was the boss, whether they liked it or not. Whether he had the slightest clue what he was doing. Or not.

The horse didn't like him any better than Danny Spencer did. When he stuck a boot in the stirrup, the animal tried to dance sideways and would have bucked him off if Kyle hadn't kept a tight grip on the pommel. “Hey, now. Settle down.”

Liam had called the horse Lightning Rod. Dumb name. But it was all Kyle had.

“That's a good boy, Lightning Rod.” It seemed to calm the dark brown quarter horse somewhat, so Kyle tried to stick his boot in the stirrup again. This time, he ended up in the saddle, which felt just as foreign as everything else on the ranch did.

The ranch hands applauded sarcastically, mumbling to each other. He almost apologized for ruining their fun—also sarcastically—but he let it go.

Somehow, Kyle managed to get up to a trot as he rode out onto the trail back to the cattle barn. It had been a lifetime since he'd ridden a horse and longer than that since he'd wanted to.

God, everything hurt. The trot was more of a trounce, and he longed for the bite of rock under his belly as he dismantled a homemade cherry bomb placed carefully under a mosque where three hundred people worshipped. That he understood at least. How he'd landed in the middle of a job managing cattle, he didn't.

Oh, right. He was doing this to prove to everyone they were wrong about him. That he wasn't a slacker who'd ignored messages about his flesh and blood. That Liam and Grace and Danny Spencer and everyone else who had a bone to pick with him weren't going to make him quit.

When he got back to the cattle barn, Danny and the cattle hands were hanging around waiting. One of the disappointed guys from the horse barn had probably texted ahead, hoping someone else could get video of the boss falling off his mount. They could all keep being disappointed.

“One cattle rancher on a horse, as ordered,” Kyle called mildly, keeping his ire under wraps. Someone wanted to know what he really thought about things? Too bad. No one was privy to what went on inside Kyle's head except Kyle. As always.

“That'll do,” Danny said with a nod, but his scowl didn't loosen up any. “We got a few hundred head in the north pasture that need to be rounded up. You take Slim and Johnny and ya'll bring 'em back, hear?”

“Nothing wrong with my ears,” Kyle drawled lazily. “What's wrong is that I'm the one calling the shots now. What do you say we chat about that for a bit?”

Danny spat on the ground near Lighting Rod's left front hoof and the horse flicked his head back in response. Kyle choked up on the reins before his mount got the brilliant idea to bolt.

“I'd say you started drinking early this a.m. if you think you're calling the shots, jarhead.”

Kyle let loose a wry chuckle, friendly like, so no one got the wrong idea. “You might want to brush up on your insults. Jarheads are marines, not SEALs.”

“Same thing.”

Neither of them blinked as Kyle grinned. “Nah. The marines let anyone in, even old cowhands with bad attitudes. Want me to pass your number on to a recruiter? I'll let you go a couple of rounds with a drill sergeant, and when you come back, you can talk to me about the difference between marines and SEALs all you want. Until then, my last name is Wade and the only thing you're permitted to call me is ‘boss.'”

Spencer didn't flinch but neither did he nod and play along. He spun on his heel and disappeared into the barn with a backhanded wave. Kyle considered it a win that the man hadn't flipped him a one-fingered salute as a bonus.

Now that the unpleasantness was out of the way, Kyle nodded at the two hands the ranch manager had singled out as his lieutenants, one of whom had fifty pounds on him. That one must be Slim. It was the kind of joke cowboys seemed to like. Kyle would probably be
jarhead
until the day he died after a recounting of his showdown with Danny Spencer made the gossip rounds.

“You boys have a problem working for me?” he asked them both.

Slim's expression was nothing short of hostile, but he and Johnny both shook their heads and swung up on their horses, trotting obediently after Kyle as he headed north toward the pasture where the cattle he was supposed to herd were grazing.

Then he just needed to figure out how to do it. Without alienating anyone else. Oh, and without falling off his horse. And without letting on to anyone that his leg was on fire already after less than thirty minutes in the saddle.

The north pasture came into view. Finally. It was still exactly where it had been ten years ago, but it felt as though it had taken a million years to get there, especially given the tense silence between Kyle and the two hands. Cattle dotted the wide swath of Wade land like black shadows against the green grass, spread as far as the eye could see, even wandering aimlessly into a copse of trees in the distance.

That was not good. He'd envisioned the cattle being easy to round up because they were all more or less in the same place. Instead, he and the hands had a very long task ahead of them to gather up the beasts, who may or may not have wanted to be gathered.

“How many?” he called over his shoulder to Johnny.

“A few hundred.” Johnny repeated verbatim the vague number Danny Spencer had rattled off earlier.

He'd mellowed out some and had actually spoken to Kyle without growling. Slim, not so much. The man held a serious grudge that wouldn't be easily remedied. No big thing. They didn't have to like each other. Just work together.

“How many exactly?” Kyle asked again as patiently as possible. “We have to know if we have them all before we head back.”

Johnny looked at him cockeyed as if Kyle had started speaking in tongues and thrown around a couple of snakes in the baptismal on a Sunday morning. “We just round 'em up and aim toward the barn. Nothing more to it than that.”

“Maybe not before. But today, we're going to make sure we have full inventory before we make the trek.” Kyle couldn't do it more than once. There was no way. “Liam didn't happen to invest in GPS, did he?”

Slim and Johnny exchanged glances. “Uh...what?”

“Satellite. RFID chips. You embed the chips in the cow's brand, for example, and use a GPS program to triangulate the chips. Technology to locate and count cattle.” At the blank looks he received in response, Kyle gave up. “I'll take that as a no.”

That would be Kyle's first investment as head of the cattle division at Wade Ranch. RFID chips would go a long way toward inventorying livestock that ran tame across hundreds of acres. That was how the military kept track of soldiers and supplies, after all. Seemed like a no-brainer to do the same with valuable livestock. He wondered why Liam hadn't done it already.

“All right, then.” Kyle sighed. “Let's do this.”

The three men rode hard for a couple of hours, driving the cattle toward the gate, eventually feeling confident that they had them all. Kyle had to accept the eyeball guesstimate from Slim and Johnny, who had “done this a couple of times.” Both thought the number of bodies seemed about right. Since Kyle wasn't experienced enough to argue, he nodded and let the experts guide them home.

It was exhausting and invigorating at the same time. This was his land. His cattle. His men, despite the lack of welcome.

But when he got back to the cattle barn, Liam was waiting for him, arms crossed and a livid expression on his face.

“What now?” Kyle slid from his horse, keeping a tight grip on the pommel until he was sure his leg would support him.

“Danny Spencer quit.” Liam fairly spat. “And walked out without even an hour's notice. Said he'd rather eat manure than work for you. Nice going.”

“That's the best news I've heard all day.” God's honest truth. The relief was huge. “He doesn't want to work for me? Fine. Better that he's gone.”

Liam pulled Kyle away from the multitude of hands swarming the area by the barn, probably all with perked-up ears, hoping to catch more details about the unfolding drama.

“It's not better,” Liam muttered darkly. “Are you out of your mind? You can't come in here and throw your weight around. Danny's been handling the cattle side. I told you that. This is his territory and you came in and upset the status quo in less than five minutes.”

Kyle shook his head. “Not his territory anymore. It's mine.”

“Seriously?” Liam's snort was half laugh and half frustration. “You don't get it. These men respect Danny. Follow him. They don't like you. What are you going to do if they all quit? You can't run a cattle division by yourself.”

Yeah, but he'd rather try than put up with dissension in the ranks. Catering to the troops was the fastest way to give the enemy an advantage. There could only be one guy in charge, and it was Kyle. “They can all quit then. There are plenty of ranch hands in this area. I need men who will work, not drama queens all bent out of shape because a bigger fish swam into their pond.”

“Fine.” Liam threw up his hands. “You have at it. Don't say I didn't warn you. Just keep in mind that we have a deal.”

His brother stomped to his truck and peeled out of the clearing with a spray of rock. Kyle resisted the urge to wave, mostly because Liam was probably too pissed to look in his rearview mirror and also because the hands were eyeing him with scowls. No point in being cocky on top of clueless.

His girls were worth whatever he had to do to figure this out.

Johnny approached him then. Kyle had just about had enough of cattle, his aching leg, difficult ranch managers and a hardheaded brother.

“What?” he snapped.

“Uh, I just wanted to tell you thanks.” Johnny cleared his throat. “For your service to the country.”

The genuine sentiment pierced Kyle through the stomach. And nearly put him on the ground where a day of hard riding hadn't. It was the first time anyone in Royal had positively acknowledged his time in the military. Not that he'd been expecting a three-piece band and a parade. He'd rather stay out of the spotlight—that kind of welcome was for true heroes, not a guy who'd gotten on the wrong end of a bullet.

Nonetheless, Kyle's bad day didn't seem so bad anymore.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “You're welcome. You know someone who served?”

Usually, the only people who thought about thanking veterans were those with family or friends in the armed forces. It was just a fact. Regular people enjoyed their freedom well enough but rarely thought about the people behind the sacrifices required to secure it.

Johnny nodded, his eyes wide and full of grief. “My dad. He was killed in the first Gulf War. I was still a baby. I never got to know him.”