Angel Smits - The Marine Finds His Family

What had she thought when she’d found out she was pregnant? What would he have done if she had gotten in touch with him back then? He did a little calculating—he would’ve been smack in the middle of boot camp.

An alternate universe of marriage and diapers flashed in his mind. He shuddered. They’d have never made it. He’d have never made it, he amended. She had managed, he begrudgingly admitted, if Tyler was any indication.

He wondered yet again, why hadn’t she contacted him? He’d given her his mom’s address. He remembered the moment clearly, that last night...on the beach...just before they’d...

Frustrated, he shut out the past, reminding himself that she had managed to find the info when she’d wanted to dump Tyler.

His anger returned as he thought of his son. DJ forced himself to stay put, out here in the dark, until the urge to storm in and demand answers passed. He figured, from what Tyler had shared, that she’d probably be skittish. Scaring her half to death would not help matters.

Slowly, DJ headed across the street. His steps measured, his worn combat boots echoed loudly on the dirty pavement.

The glass door opened easily as he stepped inside the light. He timed his entrance for when Tammie went into the back. No one noticed him at first, then the other waitress sauntered over.

“Just one?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

He smirked. She was a flirt. He knew it came with the military haircut and the assumed job, but he couldn’t help wondering if she’d still be as interested once she saw the line of scars down his back. Pulling himself away from those thoughts, he nodded and followed her swaying gait to a booth toward the back.

Outside, he’d watched long enough to know they weren’t working a station system. They were taking turns. Tammie would be his server no matter where he sat. He thought for a minute that he wasn’t really being fair, surprising her at work like this. But then, dumping his kid on Wyatt’s doorstep wasn’t exactly fair, either. Hey, all’s fair in love and war. He just wasn’t sure which he was in right now.

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Soda?” Lindsey, according to the little brass bar pinned to her orange uniform, leaned close as she spread the laminated menu out on the scarred tabletop. A picture of strawberry-lemon shortcake covered half the page she’d opened it up to. “Something sweet?”

He nearly groaned at the overly obvious come-on.

“Coffee. Lots of cream.” He picked up the menu and closed it. He doubted he’d be here long enough for anything else.

Frowning, Lindsey straightened and sauntered away, throwing one final glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.

DJ settled in the cracked vinyl seat. From here, he could see everything inside as well as keep an eye on the street beyond the windows.

Considering the hour, the restaurant was busy with half the tables full. An elderly couple sat silently eating, barely looking at each other, much less conversing. At the far end, despite the late hour, a family sat, each of them staring at a phone screen. If he and his siblings had done that as kids, they’d have been texting each other the obnoxious kind of comments that would have earned them a smack from Mom. He smiled at that thought—not that they would have been allowed phones at the table.

Just then, the kitchen doors swung open and Tammie emerged, one of those huge brown trays laden with the family’s meal on her shoulder. He held his breath, hoping she didn’t see him until after she’d delivered the food.

He kept his gaze glued to her as she moved, noticing the familiar details he hadn’t been able to see from outside. She’d gained a little weight. Just a little. Baby weight from becoming a mom? He swallowed that question.

The blond hair he’d fondly remembered flying loose and carefree had been yanked into a ponytail, hanging limply down her back. Did it still feel as soft...and smell like roses...and the ocean?

She wasn’t wearing any makeup and the sad, orange uniform she wore had seen better days, but her smile was warm as she served. The dimple he remembered so vividly flashed in her right cheek, giving him faint hope that maybe the girl he remembered was still in there somewhere.

He remembered her wearing orange once before—a bikini that hid all the right stuff, and not much else. Shaking his head to dispel the memory, he focused on the here and now.

Without mishap, she distributed the plates and carted off the tray. She snagged the coffee carafe from the burner before heading toward him. She didn’t look up, focusing on pulling an order pad from her pocket.

DJ held his breath. Waiting.

Two feet away, Tammie finally saw him—and froze. She stared, her eyes growing wide. Somewhere in the distance glass shattered and the coffee carafe lay in a zillion pieces on the tile floor.

* * *

TAMMIE’S HEART POUNDED in her chest as she met DJ Hawkins’s cold stare. She recognized him immediately. The long blond hair she remembered all too vividly was gone, as she’d expected. But the face was the same—the same one he shared with Tyler.

Breathe, she reminded herself. Think. She’d known this could happen—that she’d be found. She’d run through every scenario a dozen times in her mind, but none of those scenarios had starred DJ. Not like this, anyway.

“Hello, Tammie.” His voice came out deep and gruff, cutting through her daze. “We need to talk.”

The serious tone of his voice sent fear shooting through her. How had he found her, and why? He was angry. That was obvious. She’d expected that, too, considering she hadn’t told him about Tyler. But why was he here now?

“Is Tyler okay?” Her fear turned to panic.

DJ frowned. “If you consider how much he misses his mother, and the fact that his dad, who he just met, left him to go find her, yeah, he’s okay. Miserable, but okay.”

Her heart hurt. She couldn’t tell DJ, or anyone, why she’d left Tyler. She didn’t dare share the details of the danger she’d put Tyler, and herself, in. A dose of humiliation and a lot of fear kept her quiet.

Reality interrupted as Lindsey wheeled the mop bucket out of the kitchen. Tammie knew the other waitress wasn’t coming out to help her. She was being nosy.

Tammie straightened her shoulders, shoring up her determination now that she knew Tyler was okay. “I’m...I’m working. It’s not break time yet.” Looking around, she knew she could avoid whatever he had to say with all the customers and her coworkers listening.

“I’ll wait.”

Why did those words scare the hell out of her? She trembled, then grabbed the mop handle as much to give herself an excuse to not talk to him as to clean.

“I’ll take a cup of fresh coffee, when you get a minute,” he drawled.

Of course, it took her twice as long to clean up the mess with him watching. At least the other diners had gone back to their meals and ignored them. Lindsey, however, was leaning over the counter, watching the scene with interest.

“One coffee. Coming up,” Tammie said automatically, moving with stilted, hesitant steps, like a sleepwalker on the verge of waking up. In the back room, she put the bucket away and paced the kitchen. What was she supposed to do now? She glanced at the back door. Only the old, battered screen door stood between her and the alley behind the diner.

She called herself every kind of stupid. She shouldn’t have stayed here in Austin. She’d known that, but the idea of leaving, really leaving Tyler behind, was more than she could bear—he was her world. So she’d stayed. Lot of good that did.

Every instinct told her to run now. Run fast and hard while DJ was occupied and not expecting it. Run and hope he’d only found her because Tyler had said something.