Laura Marie - The SEAL's Valentine

With her son gone, Brynn meandered over to where Tristan strong-armed one of the fort’s plastic roofs into position. “Need help?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she said, “At the rate you’re going, you’ll be done by this afternoon.”

“Hope so. Cayden told me his party’s Saturday. That’s only two days away.”

“Don’t remind me.” She groaned. “Between the added yard work and baking, I’m starting to regret the whole idea. Plus, he’ll be seeing a lot of the boys who made the little league team.”

After screwing the roof in place, he said, “I’ll tackle the lawn.”

“That’s not what I meant. Please don’t think I was fishing for a helping hand. You’ve already done too much.”

He ignored her protests in favor of continuing to work. He seemed so driven, she felt as though she were an intruder in her own backyard. And then, he stopped. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Go for it.” His expression seemed so serious, she almost smiled. Was Mr. Privacy finally going to open up? Even with his eyes narrowed and mouth set grim, he was still far too handsome for his own good—or maybe, that should be for her own good!

As if nervous, he tossed the lightweight cordless drill from hand to hand. “Like me, you had a crap marriage, right?”

“I guess...” Where in the world was he going?

“Well, last night a friend said I should date, but why? Guess my question for you is—in light of what you went through with Mack—do you feel the same? Like the train left the station on that whole part of your life?”

“You’re amazing.” Her knees nearly buckled from the shimmering relief of having a kindred spirit when it came to understanding the emotional pain of what Mack had put her through. “My friend Vivian is constantly hinting she’s found the perfect guy to hook me up with. No matter how many times I tell her I’m never going to be interested, she refuses to listen.”

A muscle popped on his square, whisker-covered jaw. “Amen.”

She told herself the sudden lightness in her chest had nothing to do with Tristan, but in truth, it had everything to do with him. Before they’d met, she’d believed herself utterly alone when it came to her rejection of all matters having to do with the heart. “No one gets the fact that Cayden and my baby girl are all I’ll ever need.”

“I do,” Tristan quietly said. “Although, at the rate your grass is growing, if you still don’t want to take me up on my offer to mow, you’re going to have a long, hot afternoon.” When he blasted her with a slow, crooked grin, Brynn lost all power to deny him. What would it hurt for him to do her one, last favor?

* * *

“THAT’S JUST RIDICULOUS...” Vivian had parted the living-room curtains and sat practically salivating over Tristan mowing Brynn’s yard wearing nothing but cargo shorts and leather flip-flops. “Outside of movies and magazines, I’ve never seen a man with a body that hard.”

“Stop!” Brynn scolded in a stage whisper even though they were alone.

“Why? It’s not like he can see or hear me. And besides, I might be married, but I’m not dead. If I were you, I’d be all over that.”

Clearing her throat, Brynn pointed to her bulging belly. “Reality check? Even if I were in the market for a man, I get the impression Tristan’s never going to be in the market for another woman.”

“They all say that.” Vivian finally lowered the curtain. “But just you wait. Before too long, I guarantee that man will be sniffing skirts just like the rest of them.”

“Do you have to be so crude?” Brynn shifted positions so that Tristan and his amazing chest were out of view.

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be such a prude?”

“Let’s agree to disagree and work on the party.” Consulting her list, Brynn asked, “Did you ever find the pony guy’s number? I know it’s short notice, but Cayden’s been so upset about not making the team, I want this birthday to be extra special.”

Back to ogling Tristan, Vivian said, “You do know the next town over—Boynton—has a noncompetitive team? I’m sure Cayden would be more than welcome to play with them.”

Something about Vivian’s tone set Brynn on edge. “Cayden wants to play with his friends.”

“He’ll make more.” She’d again turned back from the window.

Brynn wasn’t sure how to respond. Her aunt had raised her to always be polite, but this was one case when she’d like nothing more than to give Vivian a piece of her mind. “Hasn’t your son ever wanted something, only not to get it? Cayden’s already lost his home and father and friends in St. Louis. Would it kill you to show a smidge of compassion?”

Leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees, Vivian said, “Okay, whoa. You took that completely wrong. All I meant was that if you really want Cayden to play ball on Ruin Bayou’s competitive team, at the very least you’ll need to invest in a private coach.”

“Brynn, didn’t you tell her?” Tristan stood in the open door, the full, muscular breadth of him blocking the light of the sun.

Mouth dry, pulse racing, Brynn asked, “T-tell her what?”

“That I’m Cayden’s private coach. And by the time I get done helping him, he’ll easily outhit any kid on that team.”

Chapter Four

With Vivian thankfully gone, and Tristan and his mouthwatering chest in the front yard weed-eating, Brynn had finally gotten around to hanging her small family’s clothes on the line. Mack’s grandmother who’d lived in the home before her hadn’t owned a dryer. In the winter, it’d sometimes been rough finding a warm enough sunny day, but now that she’d gotten the hang of living more simply, Brynn had started to like it.

In St. Louis, the housekeeper had done laundry. Here in Ruin Bayou, Brynn had grown to find pleasure in the simple comfort of handling her son’s small clothes. She’d lost so much, but whenever she was tempted to abandon herself to pity, she remembered how many blessings she had left.

“Haven’t seen a woman under seventy doing this in a while...” Tristan rounded the corner of the house, blasting her with his lopsided smile. If she asked politely, would it be wrong for her to request he put his T-shirt back on? “If you need a dryer, I’m sure Mom wouldn’t mind you doing loads at our house. Or, I could help you haul it all to the Suds & Swirl.”

“That’s okay.” She’d come to one of her bras and shoved it beneath a sheet. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Sure.” He folded his arms, which only exaggerated the size of his forearms and biceps. Like Vivian had earlier observed, his body was indeed ridiculous.

“Um, thanks, too, for your help mowing. The yard looks great for Cayden’s party.”

“Sure. By this afternoon, I should also have the fort finished.”

“You’re amazing—doing all this for strangers.” She pinned the first corner of the damp white sheet to the line. The fresh scents of laundry detergent and just-mown grass and the wholly masculine aroma of a man who’d spent hours working hard in the sun blended into an intoxicating balm that, had it been possible to bottle and sell, might’ve been called Home. Which only compounded the situation’s awkward-factor.

Before she’d even found the sheet’s other corner, Tristan already had it in hand, stretching it for her. “Let me.”

“Tristan, stop.” After placing a pin in the center and another near his hand, carefully avoiding even the briefest contact, Brynn shook her head. “You can’t imagine how much I appreciate your help, but I’ve got this. I might look helpless, but I’m still getting around fine. The baby’s not due for another month and that’s far too long for me to spend every day lounging on the sofa.”