Cheryl Wyatt - Soldier Daddy

“So no baggage?” Vince said.

Manny jabbed his arm. “Hey. Watch it. I don’t consider my family baggage.”

Joel straightened. “Me neither. And you’d better hope Celia doesn’t get wind of you calling her a bag.” His mouth twitched.

“Yeah, she’ll slug you, then laugh about it,” Nolan said.

Ben snickered.

Aaron eyed his watch and cleared his throat.

The room straightened up and misconduct ceased.

Aaron grinned inside. He still had it.

Though he hadn’t been in the picture much the past few years, they still respected his authority. The teasing and razzing could be relentless, but these guys wore respect for their superiors as proudly as their crisp maroon berets.

Hard-core honor, uncommon valor and selfless bravery defined every one of them. They’d throw themselves in front of a bullet if it raced toward their teammates or their leaders. Aaron knew that was mostly because the guys knew he and Joel would do the same for them.

Aaron pressed his hands on the table. “I’ll contact non-Refuge team members one or a few at a time, have them check out the facility and observe the programs we’re instituting. Decide if they want to transfer. Until then, move forward with objectives we mapped out in the last meeting with city officials.”

“So in short, proceed as planned?” Joel asked.

“Yes.” Aaron eyed his watch. “I have another errand to run. We still on for Saturday evening at your place, Joel?”

“Need you ask?” Chance grinned. “Dude always has us over on weekends.”

Joel rose. “Yep. Same time. Same place. Cookout, my house. Six o’clock.”

“What about when you and Amber go overseas?” Nolan asked. “We’d feel weird meeting and greeting at your place without you there.”

“Not to mention Joel’s having renovations done to add bedrooms for all the kids they want to adopt,” Manny said.

Joel rose. “I’m sure you guys will find an alternate place to meet while we’re gone. Until then, we’re on for every weekend like usual. As always, everyone bring a side dish and a two-liter of soda. We’ll take care of the meat.”

“Okay. See you at six on Saturday,” Aaron said, wishing he hadn’t let his yard go. If he got it cleaned up, he could have the guys over. Plenty of space and stuff for kids to do.

The group started dispersing.

“Yo, Petrowski. You should invite the new nanny.” Brock smirked all the way to the counter, where Vince grabbed his motorcycle helmet.

“She’s not the new nanny yet, Brock.” He turned to go. “But if I do decide to get a wild hair and invite her, mouths shut. Eyes and minds off. Do I make myself clear?”

“What about hands?” Vince asked in baiting undertones.

“You so much as think about touching her, even accidentally, you’ll lose flesh courtesy of my favorite lethal weapon, Reardon. You hear?”

“Yeah. Loud and fifty-caliber clear.” Uncharacteristic humor resided in the tall PJ’s normally brooding eyes.

Brock grinned. “We get it. You just want her for yourself.”

Aaron laughed because a smile danced in Brock’s eyes when he said it. But as Brock’s declaration rang in his head, heat flashed under his skydiving jumpsuit collar.

Teasing subdued, the guys triggered fully-loaded looks at one another in semiautomatic sequence.

Aaron didn’t have to wonder why.

They’d all tried to set him up numerous times in the past several months. Manny’s fiery, outspoken wife, Celia, known for aggressive matchmaking, had gone as far as telling him Donna wasn’t coming out of the casket so he should get his heart off its broken duff and date.

But he’d always adamantly repelled their attempts at steering him toward another romance.

He didn’t want to ponder why he didn’t feel so inclined to strenuously resist, evade or negate their efforts this time.

After overseeing PJ training a week later, Aaron cleaned up in the DZ shower hall and headed to Mayberry Market on his way home. Moments later, he wheeled the buggy to the meat section. An idea struck. He punched in his home number. “Yeah, Mina? Ask Sarah if she has plans for dinner. Tell her I’m asking.”

After what sounded like a scuffle, Mina came back on the phone, a little more breathless than before.

“Everything all right there?” Aaron asked.

Female shrieking sounded in the background.

Aaron paused his cart. “Please tell me the boys don’t have her locked in the coat closet.”

Mina laughed. “No, no. We’re playing hide and seek. Sarah has no plans for dinner. I tol’ her you invited her to stay and she said yes!”

“You sound entirely too enthused about this, Mina.” And the fact that her excitement caused her accent to thicken both clued in and amused him.

Aaron bit back a chuckle at another female shriek and the sound of his twins’ exuberant laughter.

“I have to go! Must move tables and chairs back before you get home, then I’ll cook for us, something nice, okay?”

Move the tables and chairs back? Never mind. He didn’t want to know.

“Mina, listen, don’t cook. You’ve worked overtime as it is lately with the boys. Take the night off and simply enjoy dinner on me.”

“You serious?”

“You bet.”

“Ah, you grilling I hope?”

“Planned on it.”

“Chicken? Shrimp? Steak? What?”

“Definitely steak. And salt-baked potatoes. And fresh sweet corn on the cob, dripping with butter.”

Across the line, Mina grew silent a moment, certainly a rare occurrence, no doubt pondering his words.

He smiled to himself as he put a package of steaks in the cart and pushed it toward the dessert section. “Although I need you to look up a recipe for me.”

“Si, anything. Just say.”

“Pumpkin pie.” After she recited the recipe, he reached for the Cool Whip topping. He wanted to make this dinner special. For at the end of it, he’d welcome Sarah on as their new nanny.

He knew in his heart this was right.

As long as her background check came back clean, his boys had their nanny.

The house was big enough that she could have all the privacy in her downtime that she desired. She’d mentioned needing every other Saturday night off. That worked well since he wanted to spend solo time with the boys, too. And Mina would remain, so their arrangement wouldn’t compromise Sarah’s reputation.

This felt right.

And if he was hearing God correctly, he was checking into Sarah’s past for nothing. He needed to call his sister. A government skip tracer, Ashleigh had open access to sensitive information and would be able to use her investigative experience to tell him. Which reminded him…Aaron dialed Ashleigh. No answer. He waited for her voice mail.

“Yeah, Ash? I’ve got someone I need you to run for me. Name’s Sarah Graham.” Aaron recited other info about Sarah that would ease Ash’s background search, then hung up. Sure, the agency would have run a check. But Ash could dig deeper.

Though he had no reason to believe Sarah was anything but safe, he had to be sure for his boys. He’d learned the hard way that looks could deceive. But rarely did first impressions. And something told him God had sent this woman as a gift. She’d be good for the boys.

Maybe good for you, too, another mind-whisper trailed.

Aaron paid for his groceries and headed home, feeling a rush of anticipation. It turned to laughter as he walked past the living-room window. All of his house’s inhabitants’ torsos tilted side to side as their feet took them in wild, wacky circles. And of course, Sarah led the pack.

Aaron viewed his furniture, pushed to the sides of the room where the foursome danced to what sounded like the Hokey Pokey. And he knew with certainty his carefully ordered life was about to unravel.