Laura Altom - The Cowboy Seal's Christmas Baby

So why had she done it? A nagging voice told her she didn’t want to know.

“Do you have kids?” she asked Gideon, eager to change the subject—if only in her own mind.

“Nope.”

“I’m assuming you’re not married?”

“Nope.”

“Would you ever want to be?”

“Nope.”

“Why so fast to respond?” She kissed the crown of her baby’s head. “I’ve only been a mother for a few hours, but this guy’s already got me wrapped around both of his tiny pinkie fingers.”

“Let’s just say I’ve been there, done that, and learned the hard way that marriage isn’t for me. The only logical conclusion is that parenthood would end with the same dismal results.” He set the foil food packet on the ground beside his log seat, then warmed his hands in front of the fire. He was tall and ruggedly appealing, but not traditionally handsome. His nose was crooked as if it may have been broken. His jaw was too wide and his cheekbones too high. That said, something about the way firelight danced in his brown eyes called to mind s’mores and made her wonder what kind of ugly breakup had resulted in such a bad attitude toward any sort of new relationship.

Skirting the direct issue, but still curious, she said, “Tell me about your parents.”

“Not much to tell.” He added a log to the fire. “They’ve passed.”

“Sorry.”

He shrugged, staring into the dancing flames. “They were hardly the sort who inspired procreation or family unity. I’d never even celebrated Thanksgiving until joining the Navy. Before Mom split, we did usually have Christmas.”

“That’s sad. But back to your grim outlook on marriage, what happened?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes, but I won’t get a wink of sleep until you answer my question.”

He sighed. “If you must know, I’m divorced. My marriage ended so badly that my ex wanted her freedom even more than my assets. We had to have set a record for the world’s fastest split.”

Jane whistled. “Did you cheat on her?”

“Why would you assume that?”

“You said you were in the Navy. I thought you might have had a girl in every port.”

“I didn’t.” He pitched a log into the fire hard enough to send sparks flying.

“I believe you. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted. How about you turn in. I’ll keep watch.”

“For what? Mountain lions? Bigfoot?”

“Look...” He clasped his hands. “Don’t take this personally, but I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Oh.” Why did his rejection hit her as if he’d turned down her invite to a Sadie Hawkins dance? “Sure. I understand.”

But she didn’t.

Worse yet, it wasn’t so much his rejection that had her super confused, but her silly reaction. For a woman who literally knew only two people in the world, to have one dismiss her stung.

* * *

GIDEON WOULD HAVE enjoyed nothing more than stretching out in his sleeping bag in Jane’s toasty tent. The night had turned breezy, and his fingers and nose felt cold enough to snap off. Just what he needed: to also be missing his nose. That’d be a big hit with the ladies.

Suddenly mad at the world, his ex, Missy, and most of all himself, Gideon kicked dirt into the fire.

Nights were always tough.

Jane’s incessant babbling and questions weren’t making this particular night any easier.

How long had it been since he’d shared a meal?

The part of their time when they’d exchanged small talk about favorite old movies had actually been pleasant. He would have never pegged her for an old-school sci-fi fan. Maybe once they got back to his cabin, he’d make popcorn. The two of them—make that three—could settle in for a movie marathon.

Stop.

He pressed the heels of his hands over his stinging eyes.

For the sake of argument, even if he was interested in hooking up, perky Jane was hardly his type. He was willing to bet that somewhere out there she had a husband desperately searching for her and their son.

Gideon would be wise to adopt his usual protector role, get her and her son safely delivered back to her family, then wash his hands of the whole situation.

In fact, as well as Jane had already recovered from giving birth, he figured Jelly Bean needed him more than she did.

“Gideon?” she called from the tent.

“Yeah?”

“What was that noise?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Listen! It’s like a snort, then I heard a twig snapping. Maybe even a growl.”

Gideon heard nothing but the occasional owl and wind high in the pines.

“Could you please stay in here with us? Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll get a wink of sleep.”

It was her second time using the phrase. Had it occurred to her that if she stopped winking long enough to close her mouth and eyes that sleep might come? Shaking his head, Gideon banked the fire, then snatched up his sleeping bag. If Jane wanted him to stretch out alongside her, rather than spending his night upright on a log, who was he to argue?

Hours later, Gideon woke to golden sun warming his face.

Even better? The mesmerizing sight of Jane breastfeeding her son. Witnessing the nurturing act warmed a long-frozen place in his heart. But then he grew fully awake. Fully grounded in the knowledge that if his heart ever did thaw, it would be as gray and ruined as freezer-burned meat.

The woman was pretty, but the expression on her face when she held her baby transformed her into what he could only describe as ethereal. Then she turned to look at him.

Her faint smile faded to fear.

As if she’d forgotten he was even there, she looked up with a startled jolt. “G-good morning.”

“Hey.”

The few minutes it took for him rummage around in his bag, straightening his prosthetic without her seeing, took a lifetime. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

She apparently wished the same.

“Um...” Because he’d been on more pleasant bombing raids, he cleared his throat. “Give me a sec to get coffee in my system and I’ll launch a fresh search for the horse.”

She nodded. “I’ve got freeze-dried scrambled eggs if you’d like me to make breakfast?”

“Thanks. But you’ve got your hands full. I’ll tackle chow. You handle baby maintenance—speaking of which, he probably needs a fresh diaper.” Lord help him, now that he was on a roll, he couldn’t shut up. “I’ve got biodegradable paper towels that should work.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He unzipped his sleeping bag, then rolled onto his knees, maneuvering himself into a standing crouch that his height forced him to use all the way to the tent’s zippered door.

“You slept in your boots?”

Gideon froze. “Is that a problem?”

“No. I mean, I guess not. It’s just a little odd.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion.” The blunt-edged statement had been intended to shut her up. It did. But instead of feeling satisfied, he felt ashamed.

Of course, she had no way of knowing he’d slept with his boots on for the purely prideful reason of keeping his most carefully guarded secret.

“Sorry.” Her ghost of a smile as she rubbed her son’s back should have warmed him, but it only served as a further reminder of his condition. Of the reason his entire life had fallen apart. “I was teasing. It’s touching—the fact that you care so much about protecting us that you fell asleep fully dressed. Thank you.”

Gideon grunted before tugging hard enough on the tent’s zipper to make the whole structure lean.

He had to get out of here.

Being around Jane and her baby only served as a reminder of the life he might have had.

He was one of the lucky ones. No pain. Full functionality. But somehow in the grand scheme of things, none of that mattered.