Baby, It's You (Uncharted SEALs Book 5) Read online

  He could hear the hint of tears in her voice, and slipped an arm beneath her, so that she could nestle her head against his shoulder.

  “I was taking the baby to the window to wave goodbye. If I’d made it there, if we’d been standing closer…”

  He kissed her shoulder and glided his hand up and down her side to comfort her. Not something he was accustomed to doing, but he must have been doing it right. She sniffed and settled. Minutes later, she slept.

  Which left him alone with his thoughts. He could imagine what the blast had done. Knew there couldn’t have been much left of his brother or his pretty wife to send home. And he was thankful both Emmy and Melanie had been spared. Sure, she bore a scar, but it could have been so much worse. Emmy needed Melanie in her life. He needed her, too.

  But did he need her for the right reasons? Since he’d left rehab, he’d felt restless, without a purpose. Useless.

  He’d always been sure of himself, of his body. Knew how to use it, exactly how much punishment it could take. Now he felt as though his knee was a stranger. And he felt guilty for feeling sorry for himself over the fact he wasn’t going to be able to remain on the team, at least not in his former capacity, which meant he wouldn’t stay. Not and watch others he’d trained with ship out to parts unknown time and again, while he was grounded.

  Hell, he was alive and well enough to gripe about it, when so many others never got a second chance at life, however changed.

  Eventually, his erection relaxed. Melanie’s peach scent surrounded him; her warmth soothed him. She was willing, she’d said. To enter a relationship based on mutual gratification. Funny that he wasn’t. Hell, Mac would have bust a gut over this turn of events.

  *

  Five mornings later, Carter awoke just after dawn. Melanie was draped across his chest. Her knee nudged his cock. Which wasn’t the only reason he was hard. He slipped from the bed then turned to glance one last time at the woman snoring softly on his pillow.

  She wore a T-shirt. One of his. Something that had begun naturally the night after he’d refused to take her. As was becoming habit, after putting Emmy to bed, Melanie would slip into his room, rummage through his drawers, and find one of his meager stock of tees to replace the clothing she left in a puddle on the floor. Then she’d slide into bed beside him, and they’d talk about their days.

  He’d found a therapist in town, one who was a friend of Wayne’s, and so he told her about his progress, about his visits with his dad, about what funny things Emmy had said that day.

  Then conversations would turn sexier. Melanie was endlessly curious about his body and his reactions to her. She’d lightly trace the hills and hollows of his abdomen, circle a puckered scar and ask how he’d “earned” it, then she’d inevitably head south to tease around his cock.

  Last night, he’d taken all he could. She’d asked what it felt like to masturbate with a hand wrapped around his shaft. He’d shown her, gritting his teeth when she leaned over to turn on the light on the nightstand because she wanted to see “everything.” She’d further frustrated him by asking questions all along the way, prolonging his session, and making it nearly impossible for him to resist flipping her to her belly and raising her hips…

  That image had sent come burbling over the crown in thick spurts. Afterward, her nipples had been hard spikes against his tee. Her cheeks had been red. But she’d reached across to dip a finger into the cream glazing his cock, and then tasted it, her nose wrinkling. “I always wondered,” she said.

  He raked a hand through his hair. She was going to kill him. She asked every night why he was so stubborn, and every night he deflected, because he wasn’t sure.

  But he liked the way he felt every day as he walked out onto the porch and breathed in the air scented by the faint aroma of cattle in the distance and engine oil from the vehicles and tractors. He liked that he wasn’t ashamed of himself, didn’t hold a single regret over his treatment of her. He held her every night, but resisted his own impulses. Like he was paying his penance for so many sins. At some point, he’d forgive himself. At some point, he’d take her.

  But not until he was sure where that action would lead them.

  After using the bathroom, he quietly dressed and stepped into the hallway.

  His father’s door opened. Ms. Davis curled a finger to beckon him. “He’s been waiting for you.”

  His dad was waiting because every morning after Carter left Melanie, he slipped into his father’s room.

  Today, Lee sat beside his bed. The two had their heads close together. When he cleared his throat, both men glanced up. Guilt kept Lee’s gaze from meeting his. His father’s expression was harder to read, but there was a glint of color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

  “You’re looking well,” Carter said.

  “That her car?” his dad asked Lee.

  Lee stood and leaned on the windowsill. “Yup. She’s on her way.”

  “Quick,” his father said, flipping back his sheet.

  Lee pushed up the window and gave a whistle sharp enough to burst an eardrum. A couple minutes later two hands burst into the room.

  “Ready, boss?” one of them asked.

  Carter stood staring at the guilty expressions on the two older men’s faces. “Are you both out of your minds?”

  “Man can’t spend the rest of his days on his back and still feel like a man,” Lee said.

  His father nodded. “Make sure you give him my pills.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Lee plucked a small prescription bottle from the nightstand. “His heart stops, you put one of these under his tongue.”

  “Fucksake,” Carter muttered.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Lee said to the two burly hands.

  They moved in beside his father, seated him on the edge of the bed, then lifted him, their arms forming a chair.

  “We’ll take him down the same as we got him up,” one of them said, winking at Carter. “His wheelchair’s already in his truck bed.”

  “Jesus.” Carter followed them down the stairs.

  With his father, Lee, and himself all crammed into the front bench seat, the drive into town was a cozy one. Carter kept one eye on the old man. He dozed, and then would fall forward. Either he or Lee would brace him until he raised his head.

  “Just studying the backs of my eyelids, boys.”

  Carter snorted. “What’s the purpose of this prison break?”

  “I want a drink. A real beer. In the back of Shooters.”

  “That’s it? We couldn’t have had a real beer at home?”

  “I’m tired of looking at the same walls. And Lizzie hovers.”

  “Lizzie?”

  “Miz Davis. Woman thinks she owns me.”

  “She handles your man parts every day,” Lee said grinning. “I’d say she’s right.”

  “Wish they’d work. I’d give her a surprise.”

  Carter shook his head, wondering who the old man was sitting beside him and talking dirty about his old high school nurse.

  “I’m dying. Not dead yet.”

  The trip took twenty minutes. Once they pulled into the handicap space in front of the saloon, Lee slipped from the cab and got the wheelchair, which he deftly unfolded. Carter wondered if he’d facilitated breakouts before. He lifted his father from the seat into the chair, then waved Lee away. “I’ll push.”

  Inside, they found a booth at the back and rolled his father up to the end of the table. As soon as he stepped on the rubber brakes at the back of the chair’s wheels, a waitress was standing at his elbow.

  “Your usual, Mr. Vance?”

  “Yes, hon. Bring us a round.”

  Carter sat and placed his cowboy hat on the seat beside him. He studied his father’s features. His cheeks still held a little color, and his gaze was sharp. He guessed he shouldn’t worry too much he was going to keel over any second.

  “Now it’s just us,” his father said, pausing to take a short breath. “How come you have
n’t done it?”

  “Done it?” he said, his back stiffening, because he could only imagine one thing his father might be asking.

  “Melanie. How come?”

  Still not sure his dad knew about their sleeping arrangements, he narrowed his eyes. “How come what?”

  His dad looked toward the ceiling. “She’s a pretty girl. Comes right to your bed. How come you haven’t done it?”

  Carter blew out a breath that billowed his cheeks. “Who the hell’s spying on Melanie?”

  “Tilda says her bed hasn’t been touched. And she’s found her panties in your room. But nothin’ on the sheets.”

  Carter felt heat rise in his cheeks. “That old b—”

  “I asked her to keep an eye out. Don’t blame her. You gonna answer my question?”

  “It’s none of your business. Certainly none of hers.”

  “Like hell, it’s not.” His dad wheezed on his next breath. “I need to know your intentions… Girl’s under my roof…”

  The waitress returned with their beers, and the men went silent. As soon as she moved away, Lee gave him a deep frown.

  Carter glared back. “All right. I’ll tell you. I won’t make love to her. Not until I’m sure what my intentions are.”

  “But you’ll sleep with her, let her fall in love with you.”

  “She came to me. Does every night. She’s the one who wants to keep it all about sex.”

  His father’s eyes widened, and then his grin showed every one of his pearly dentures. “She’s already in love with you, boy… She’s just bein’ stubborn….” He took a deeper breath. “I’ll tell you what you gotta do…”

  “I don’t need advice.”

  “Son, you need a manual,” Lee muttered. “With pictures. A set of damn operating instructions.”

  His dad waved a hand at Lee. “You’re young. She’s young. You can figure it out,” he said with a snort.

  Carter rolled his eyes. “I know what to do, Dad.”

  “Huh. So what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t want to hurt her again.”

  Lee nodded. “Told you somethin’ happened at the wedding.”

  “Then don’t,” his father said.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “You love her?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say he wasn’t sure, but he realized, in that moment, that he already knew. His shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

  His father’s lips curved. “Then go after her.”

  Carter raked a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t want me to leave. And I don’t think I can stay. Not all the time. I like what I do. I’ve spent years getting good at it.”

  Lee leaned forward. “Your friend Mac said his company’s headquartered in Dallas.”

  “That’s not an ocean away,” his father said nodding.

  “But I could be gone weeks at a time.”

  “And home weeks at a time,” Lee said, a brow arching.

  “Sounds like excuses,” his dad muttered.

  “She doesn’t want me walking into danger.”

  His father scowled. “With your bum knee, you won’t be on any front line.”

  Carter frowned at his father. “Doesn’t mean I’ll be safe. Even if I’m stuck at Bagram in a hangar, there’s no guarantee we won’t be hit.”

  “There are no guarantees in life, son.”

  He was surprised his father echoed the same thing he’d said to Melanie.

  “I want you settled. I want to know Melanie’s taken care of.”

  “I can’t run a ranch if I’m gone half the time.”

  “Then hire a foreman… Lee can teach him the ropes…. Much as he hates that side of the business.”

  Lee nodded. “I’ll leave the hirin’ to you.”

  Carter sat back in his seat, amused the old men had double-teamed to take him down. “You both have this all worked out.”

  “Yup. Son, only person you have to convince this’ll work is your girl.”

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  That night, much to Melanie’s consternation, Emmy insisted on “Unca Carter” tucking her in and reading her a bedtime story. Not that she could blame the little girl. There was something about Carter tonight. Something she couldn’t quite pin down. He was different.

  Maybe he was just more relaxed. After the three men had returned from their “prison break” and Papa had been settled into his bed for a long nap, he’d seemed more at ease, happier even. More watchful, too. Every time she turned around, he was there, his blue gaze raking over her body, reminding her he knew every curve intimately.

  She’d been a bundle of nerves, on edge all afternoon. When he’d invited her to ride, she’d turned him down. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him because she knew she’d throw herself at him, and it was humiliating enough that he’d resisted her nightly invitations, seeming content to cuddle her like she was a pillow, while every stray brush of his fingers set her on fire.

  Not that he was immune to a female in close proximity. Every night, his cock prodded her backside, a salve to her wounded pride.

  She’d have thought by now he’d be eager for a little relief. She’d promised there’d be no expectations from her side. What was his deal?

  She sat on the edge of her bed, still dressed. Waiting for the sound of him moving down the hallway to his bedroom. Maybe tonight she’d have the fortitude to undress and slip beneath her own covers.

  Her bedroom door opened, and she glanced upward. Carter filled the space, his shoulders nearly touching each side of the frame. Lord, he was a beautiful sight to behold.

  He curled his fingers. “Come. Unless you’d rather I join you here?”

  In her bed? Her heart fluttered. No. When he left, she didn’t want any lingering ghosts keeping her awake at night. She pushed up and walked slowly toward him, aware again that his gaze was darker, narrower. Suddenly, she felt like a rabbit quivering beneath a circling hawk. “She make you read two?”

  “No, I read her one. Then she told me one.”

  “Girl’s gonna be a writer,” she said, slipping her hand inside his. Together they walked toward his bedroom door.

  She shot a glance around the hallway, but there was no one there to witness her moment of weakness.

  At his door, he dropped his gaze and gave her a little smile. A smile that seemed to be communicating something. His hand tightened around hers.

  When he opened the door, she sucked in a quick breath. There were lit candles lined along the dresser top and on the nightstand. The bedcovers were pulled back.

  “What’s this?” she asked, suddenly breathless.

  “Operation Get The Girl.”

  She frowned when she glanced upward.

  “The candles were my dad’s idea.” He chuckled. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Her gaze landed on the carafe of red wine on the nightstand.

  “Lee’s idea.”

  She shook her head. “Is this supposed to be a seduction?”

  “They thought I needed a little coaching.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Is that what today was all about? Them pulling you aside to give you advice?”

  Carter grinned. “I guess it was.”

  “Those rascals.”

  His gaze turned smokier. “Come here.” He tugged her hand to bring her against his chest. His hands settled on her hips then rucked up her shirt. He sent it sailing.

  Melanie drew another deep breath, sure he could hear her pounding heart. “So they know?”

  “That we haven’t done it, yeah.”

  Melanie grimaced. “Oh no. You explain I wasn’t the reason…”

  “I told them I wanted things to be right between us before we took the next step.”

  Melanie was afraid to meet his gaze. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “I haven’t explained my intentions very well. I’m hoping you’ll rethink your position once you hear me out.”

 
“Then shouldn’t we be waiting?” she asked, waving a hand at the candles.

  He shook his head. “You need to know I’m all in, Melanie. That I’m committed to making us work.” He tucked a finger inside her waistband and tugged her closer still. Then he went to work unbuckling her belt, unbuttoning her jeans. His hands slid into her loosened garments and cupped her bottom. “My dad said there are no guarantees. But he told me something else. I have to follow my heart.”

  “That what you’re doing now?” she whispered, gazing up shyly, finally locking her gaze with his.

  He nodded. “I love you. Simple as that. Everything else is just…details. Distractions.”

  Oh hell. He loved her. Suddenly, she wished he’d hurry. That her bra was gone and her panties on the floor. Because she wanted him inside her before he spoke another word. “Hurry.”

  His lips twitched, and he stood back. He tugged off his shirt, dropped his pants. But she wasn’t standing still. They were both nude inside a minute. On the bed ten seconds later.

  She glanced down. He already wore a condom. “Whose advice was that?”

  “My idea,” he said, pushing her to her back and rising over her.

  She liked the way he looked, braced on his arms, his cheeks and jaws tightening. She lowered her lids halfway and opened her legs, bending them at the knee, then opening herself. Inviting him to come inside.

  “Put me there,” he whispered.

  Without hesitating, she reached out and stroked his shaft, glorying in how hard it was, how hot. She tilted his cock toward her sex, lifted her hips, and captured the tip. A mew escaped as he pushed, entering her, stretching her. He pulsed inward, pulled back, glided forward again, and already she was overcome with the sensations—his hardness filling her empty space, his motions drawing her to enter into the rhythm he set.