Rogenna Brewer - The SEAL's Baby

“Enough, Sam.” Hannah cut her off with a look. Mike didn’t know what that look meant. Only that he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

The sister turned wide green eyes on Hannah. A Stanton trademark if he wasn’t mistaken.

“I see my reputation precedes me.” He raised an eyebrow in question. He’d driven Hannah to the airport, but she’d been bumped from the flight. From there they’d checked into a hotel suite and gambled with their friendship—a lose/lose proposition at best. One he couldn’t regret. But whatever her family thought they knew about him, it wasn’t good.

“All bad,” Hannah assured him.

No doubt.

He felt an urgent need to break the ice with a better first impression. “How about introductions?” he insisted, tucking his cover under his arm.

True to form, Hannah gave in to his request with the grace of good manners. “Commander…my mother, Rosemary Stanton.”

“Ma’am.” He extended his hand.

Her mother didn’t.

“Samantha, Hannah’s sister,” the sister latched on to his hand, “her younger, recently single sister. Should I call you Mac or Mike, Commander?” She pumped his arm as she pumped him for information, but it would have been hard not to notice the mother’s cool reception. The simple fact that they even knew his name should have told him something. He’d hurt Hannah. Of course he’d chosen that route as being the least complicated.

“It’s Mac.” He smiled anyway. “Mike gets confusing in the field.”

“Mike is the phonetic letter M,” Hannah offered the explanation.

He had his own. She’d called out Mike, not Mac or McCaffrey when he’d come inside her, and she’d called out Mike just a few minutes ago.

“So, Mac,” the sister said, “are there any more like you at home?”

“As you can see, I’m one of a kind.” He managed to extract his hand while evading her real question. He had a brother. Not to mention four sisters.

Hannah’s sister assessed him with the same openness as in her demeanor. She had a pretty face and generous curves beneath a gauzy summer dress. She also had a kid and no wedding band. She’d said she was recently single.

Divorced? Widowed? In his experience widows wore their rings a lot longer than recently. But anything was possible. The flag her mother carried could belong to her. Samantha Stanton seemed to expect something from him, and it wasn’t his shoulder.

He glanced at the stroller. The sleeping rug rat squirmed, scrunching its face until it turned cherry red. He recognized that look thanks to his half-dozen nieces and nephews, glad that was one diaper he didn’t have to change. Three of his four sisters were married, two with kids. The youngest, Meg was still single. So was their brother, Buddy. But while they all shared the same gene pool, Buddy had that something extra that made him special.

Of course, every mother thought her kid was special. “Cute kid.” It was the right thing to say.

Samantha Stanton beamed at him. “Do you like children, Commander?”

“Mac,” he reminded her. “Sure.” He shrugged. “As long as they’re somebody else’s.”

“EXCUSE ME, I have a cake to cut.” Hannah left McCaffrey and her family, but especially Mac, to make of her exit what they would. She had to get away before she did or said something she might regret.

He liked kids as long as they’re somebody else’s. What else had she expected?

“Hannah! Hannah, wait up.” Sammy pushed the stroller at a slight jog to keep up with Hannah’s military stride. “He didn’t mean anything by it. He thinks—”

Hannah stopped short, turning on her sister. “I know what he thinks, Sam. Excuse me, Samantha,” she corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, Sammy, you’ve never gone by Samantha a day in your life! What’s with you? Flirting with Fallon’s father. Pretending to be her mother—”

“I never did any of that. He just assumed.”

Hannah took a deep breath, deep enough for the flush of anger and jealousy to fade just a little. She was only picking a fight with her sister because she wanted to go fifteen rounds with Mac.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Hannah glanced toward McCaffrey, who was still talking to her mother. His assumptions played into Hannah’s deepest fears—that in the end it would be Sammy raising their daughter. “Have I told you today how much I love and appreciate you?”

“Don’t go getting all mushy on me now.”

“I know I don’t say it often enough.”

“Forget it,” Sammy said. “I know you’re upset. And I didn’t help any by playing devil’s advocate.”

“You’re not the only one.” Hannah nodded toward their mother. A few minutes ago she’d snubbed McCaffrey, now they were engaged in animated conversation. “What in the world do you suppose they have to talk about?”

“The weather?”

“Funny.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe,” Sammy said with real regret. “You and Mom are cut from the same cloth. Neither of you would ever air your dirty laundry in public.”

Hannah returned her full attention to her sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Mom’s going to keep mum. I think she invented the term soldier on. And you…I don’t know why you ever left active duty for the reserves in the first place. The uniform suits you. You button up all your emotions inside that white jacket, and they reward you for it with those ribbons worn in place of your heart.”

“I’m not emotionless,” Hannah denied. “I just keep my feelings to myself. Do you honestly think I don’t feel anything?”

“Then you deserve a Purple Heart. Because if you’re bleeding, nobody knows it. Least of all him.”

“It doesn’t matter. McCaffrey means nothing to me. Less than nothing,” she emphasized. “A one-night stand with a military man. How much more cliché can it get?”

Although, technically, she’d known him for more than one night. Well enough to know he didn’t want children. Just the same it hurt to hear him say it out loud.

“Nothing?” her sister asked over the stroller she rocked back and forth.

Hannah stole a glance at her daughter. She’d dressed Fallon in a cute pink sailor dress and hat for the festivities. Her eyes were still shut tight. Otherwise McCaffrey would have seen how much they looked like his own. “Okay, so maybe he meant something to me once. But from now on he’s just the sperm donor.”

“You have to tell him. If you’ve been waiting for the right opportunity—”

“That opportunity has long since passed. It would be different if I were still a civilian. But no good can come from telling him now. Or anyone else for that matter.”

This was another one of those gray areas.

She’d be better off letting her military co-workers believe, as most of her civilian co-workers did, that she was a thirty-three-year-old woman tired of waiting for Mr. Right, so she’d decided to have a baby on her own. Somehow it seemed more acceptable than the truth.

She’d made a mistake. She’d taken responsibility. She didn’t need McCaffrey to do his duty. Because the truth was she was a thirty-three-year-old woman who’d given up on finding Mr. Right a long time ago. Which didn’t mean she was going to settle for Commander Wrong.

If McCaffrey had thought enough of her and their one night together to keep in touch, maybe they would have had a chance to work something out.

That works both ways. His challenge echoed.

She’d started so many letters during her pregnancy, all crumpled after a line or two. Aside from being at a loss for words, she could admit that stubborn pride had kept her from finishing even a single note. She’d wanted him to make the first move.