The SEAL's Valentine. Laura Marie AltomЧитать онлайн книгу.
Not long after, the Langtoine’s nosy neighbor, Georgia Booth, called the cops and the festivities had been shut down.
In front of the house, Tristan slowed his pace to barely a jog, striving to get a look in the backyard without being too obvious. Only it turned out he’d been right in his assumption Brynn would be out on such a fine day.
He got caught.
“Take a picture,” she called upon catching him staring. “It’ll last longer.”
“Guilty as charged.” Out of breath and laughing, he paused by the birdbath Mack gave his mother on her fortieth birthday. She’d died of cancer a couple years later. Mack had been playing ball for Notre Dame and his dad had taken off, never to be seen again. Mack’s grandparents had owned the house and when they died, they left it to him. “Your boy—Cayden? Already at school?”
Gardening spade in hand, she rocked back on her heels. “It was his turn to clean the class turtle’s tank and feed him. I took him in early.”
“Figured as much.”
“How so?” Sunlight slanted though Spanish moss-drizzled trees and there wasn’t a breath of wind. The school bus’s squeaky brakes could be heard at the corner of Hickory and Pine.
Grinning, Tristan said, “From my own days at Ruin Bayou High, I figure any kid on this street has about three and a half minutes to hustle to the front of his house. Plenty of time to grab a Pop-Tart or play a quick game of fetch with your dog. Meaning, if Cayden hadn’t left early, he’d still be here, horsing around.”
“You’re good,” she noted when sure enough, right on schedule, the bus screeched to a stop. Even from the backyard, the sound of kids bickering, stealing sack lunches and pulling pigtails carried on the morning’s still air. Soon, the rolling riot moved on, returning peace to Cherry Court until retracing the route at 3:25.
“I’ve been hustling Cayden out to catch the bus for over five months, but I’ve never timed it quite like that.”
Though he shrugged, the SEAL in Tristan was glad not to have lost his flair for efficiency. Also in his personal skill arsenal was being observant, which was how he came to notice an intimidating pile of redwood planks, bolts and faux wood-colored plastic roofs, slides and swing seats. The pirate-type fort was pretty cool—at least it would be once it was assembled. Any kid would love it. Which made him think of his own son, Jack. The one topic he worked hard to avoid.
Trying to focus on the ungodly mess of materials rather than thoughts of how Jack was spending his morning, Tristan was startled to look up and find Brynn standing next to him. Sure, he’d seen her at the ballpark, but in fading light and then complete darkness, he hadn’t really seen her.
Since she’d squeezed her considerable assets into a figure-hugging Cardinals T-shirt rather than a loose maternity top, he noted she was barely five foot tall with a mess of curly ginger hair and a baby bump the size of two watermelons. Barefoot, wearing a long, gauzy skirt, she pressed her hands to the small of her back. He wondered if her back was hurting. If so, he was sure she’d never admit it. Backlit by morning sun, her skirt turned transparent. It took a ton of willpower to keep his gaze from dropping to her shapely legs.
“Big mess, huh?” She nodded toward the unassembled fort. “Cayden’s had a tough time of it lately. Thought for his birthday, this might perk him up. D-Shawn’s Lumber wanted an extra five hundred for assembly, but I figured on saving the money by doing it myself. How hard can it be, you know?” She faintly smiled and damn if Tristan didn’t find himself caught up in her world, smiling and nodding right along.
“Um, yeah.” Unsure what to do with his hands, he rammed them in his pockets.
When she cocked her head, corkscrew curls tumbled over her shoulder. She was so pretty it rendered him stupid. Before he could stop the words from spilling from his mouth, he said, “Want help? With Cayden’s gift? I’m fairly decent with tools.” Listen to him—practically begging her to let him spend hours in her backyard. The whole point of Tristan being on leave back home in Louisiana was to escape the pain of losing his son to a different time zone. Last thing he needed was getting wrangled into what could turn into a multiday project. Worse yet, would be the proximity of being around another man’s child.
Another man’s wife. Even if the man was dead.
Say no, his gut silently pleaded to Brynn. As long as she turned down his offer, Tristan had nothing to fear.
Then she nodded her pretty head. “Never thought I’d hear myself say this, but honestly, if I’m going to have a prayer of finishing by Cayden’s birthday, I’d very much appreciate your help.”
Chapter Three
The moment the words left her mouth, Brynn regretted them. What had she been thinking? If she didn’t want new friends period, she certainly didn’t need one as attractive as Tristan. In the bright light of day, square jaw sporting sexy stubble and dark eyes hidden by mirrored aviator sunglasses, he not only towered over her, but reminded her how amazing it’d felt when he’d charged to her rescue—only she wasn’t in the market for a shining knight.
She’d once cast Mack in that role and look how disastrously that had turned out.
“Forgive me,” she backpedaled. “I didn’t mean to stick you with my mess. You were only being polite when you offered, so please don’t think I expect you to—”
“No,” he insisted, “I want to help. Cayden seems like a great kid. After not making the team with the rest of his friends, he deserves some fun.”
“Yeah, but that fun is going to come at too big a price to you. Really, I can handle the fort on my own.” Her huge belly made it a struggle for her to even pick up the rest of her gardening tools. Common sense dictated she may not want Tristan’s help, but she sure needed it.
When she barely made it upright without his hand on her arm holding her steady, he lowered his sunglasses to meet her gaze. “With all due respect, as big as you are, I’m not sure you’re even going to make it back into the house under your own steam.”
“Thanks.” It took a ton of self-restraint not to childishly stick out her tongue.
“Hey, I happen to think baby bumps are cute.”
“Uh-huh.” As long as she kept reminding herself she was no more in the market for romance than he was, they’d get along just fine.
* * *
“SORRY TO NOT HAVE SOMETHING fancier.”
“I’m so hungry, cardboard would taste good,” Tristan said when Brynn approached bearing a plate filled with two egg salad sandwiches, chips and a pickle. In the four hours he’d been working, Tristan had already assembled the fort’s exterior frame. He’d worked up one hell of an appetite. He downed the better half of his first sandwich in a couple bites before remembering he wasn’t with his SEAL buddies, Deacon, Garrett and Calder. “Jeez, sorry.” He used the napkin she’d also given him. “I do have manners—I just don’t usually have a whole lot of cause for using them.”
“You’re fine,” she said with a shy smile. “Mack was the same after a long day of games.”
Setting the plate she’d given him on the raised fort’s floor, he said, “That must’ve been a rush, huh? Him playing for the Cards?”
“It really was...” Judging by the way her smile faded, he’d touched on a sensitive issue.
He finished his second sandwich. “Never mind. None of my business.”
“No, it’s okay. Just hurts, you know? Remembering the good times. In a twisted way, it’s almost easier dwelling on the bad.”
True. When he thought of what a great little family he used to have, it killed him. Now with his ex remarried and his son in California, he preferred thinking how much he despised her instead of how much he missed his kid. While they’d