Biting back a curse, Hank rounded the corner into the renovated kitchen and stopped short.
Leonie sat at the island eating a slice of pecan pie and thumbing through a tabloid magazine while Max snoozed away in his baby carrier. “Hello, Major.” She slid from the tall swivel chair, tightening the sash on the robe over her lounging pj’s. “Could I get you a plate? There’s plenty left.”
“No thanks. I’m good.” Except actually, he wasn’t “good.” He was a damn mess inside and would be better off alone. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of juice. He tipped it back just like he did at his condo. To hell with manners. He wasn’t in the mood for niceties.
“Glad to see the two of you working things out.” Her fork clanked against the plate. “I wasn’t too certain there at the outset.”
“Why so?” He turned to face her, the carton still in his hand.
“You hired a nanny without consulting her the day her son got home from the hospital.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Any woman would be upset.”
“Then why did you take the job if you knew it was going to make her mad?” He would never understand women.
“I needed the money. She needed the rest.” She smiled, her hand smoothing the light blanket over Max tenderly. “And I love this little fellow.”
“You could have clued me in so I didn’t piss her off.”
“Telling a person what to do never works, not in the long haul.” She took her plate to the sink and rinsed off the crumbs. “The real lessons in life are learned from actions, making mistakes and fixing them yourself. That’s the way good relationships are built.”
“Relationships?” He winced.
“Please, do not be that cliché, relationship-leery man.” Sighing, Leonie leaned back against the granite slab countertop. “I pegged you for better than that.”
He’d just wanted something to drink, some space to pull himself back together and now he was catching it from all sides from a woman he barely knew. “Why are you giving me such a hard time?”
“Because you don’t have a mama, and for some reason you don’t have much contact with your family. Who else is going to tell you what you need to hear?”
He cocked an eyebrow, channeling his dad’s superior look. But what the hell? He followed in the old man’s footsteps just about every other way. “You’ve been reading too many tabloids.”
“I do love my gossip papers.” She grinned unrepentantly. “News about your family sells.”
He spun the tabloid rag around. A headline blared, Granny Ginger Buys Princess Granddaughter a Pony. The rest of the article detailed some supposedly lavish birthday bash his stepmom had thrown for her newest grandchild—a girl whose mother was an illegitimate princess. The guest list included everyone from the kids of movie stars to ambassadors.
Since emails from home had included details and photos from that party, he knew ninety-nine percent of the information was bull. His mom had rented a pony, but the very long guest list for the toddler’s first birthday was simply all the family members. So what if the family members happened to be Renshaws, Landises and in-law royal Medinas? But apparently stuff like this, touting inside peeks into the lifestyles of the rich and famous, sold magazines.
An ugly suspicion niggled. “How badly do you need money?”
Her smile faded. “Not bad enough to ever do anything to hurt Gabrielle or this little boy, and I’ll scratch out the eyes of anyone who does.”
He searched her eyes and found nothing but honesty. “Good, we’re on the same page, then.”
“So you’ll think about what I said?”
“Said about what?”
She’d said so freaking much he’d lost track.
“Men,” she mumbled, reaching for Max’s seat.
Hank grasped the carrier handle. “I’ll take him for a while.”
“It’s okay, Major.” Leonie patted his hand. “I’ve got him.”
“Seriously, go nap or read a gossip magazine. It can’t be easy switching to the night shift all at once.”
“Okay, then.” She pulled a baby rattle and empty bottle from her pocket as she spun away. “You’re the boss.”
He set the juice carton on the island, taking his seat in front of the sleeping baby. Kevin’s kid. Gabrielle’s son.
Shaking the cow-shaped rattle in front of the boy’s face, he tracked the faces of both people he loved in the kid’s cheeks and stubborn chin. Max blinked wide blue eyes back at him and all those features merged into one, a unique individual.
Max.
A roaring started in his ears, and he reached to pick up the baby. He cradled Max in the crook of his arm, shaking the rattle again since the boy seemed to like it. Max batted at the air, his little fist bumping Hank’s, baby skin softer than anything he could remember. Tiny fingers unfurled and wrapped around his thumb, holding tight.
“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, “we’re going to have fun together. Do you like baseball? With a grip like that, I’ll bet you can throw a mean curve ball. You and me, we’re going to be…”
Be…what? He wasn’t sure where he stood with the child. What would those scrapbooks show when Gabrielle added photos of him with Max? He didn’t want to be a stand-in dad. He wanted to be the real thing. A father to Max and a husband to Gabrielle.
But he also didn’t want to forget Kevin, and he wasn’t sure how in the hell to cohabitate with a ghost.
* * *
Gabrielle woke up alone with the covers all to herself.
So why wasn’t she happy?
She reached to touch the empty spot beside her, and the sheets weren’t even warm. Hank hadn’t come back to bed after his nightmare. She’d thought getting him to talk about the dream and what happened ten months ago would make him feel better. But what did she know about war memories? She could have made things worse for him by venturing in full steam when he wasn’t ready.
Where did she go from here?
Maybe she needed to stop pushing, to give him some space. Kevin had always talked about how Hank kept his distance from his family, that he was the sort of guy who liked to keep his life private. Today, he had to be especially vulnerable—although she could almost see him bristle if she called him vulnerable to his face. He wasn’t one to acknowledge his own emotional needs so she would have to take care of those for him.
She could probably use a little elbow room, too. Things had happened at such a fast and furious pace—moving here, Max’s surgery, starting an affair. She pressed a hand to her aching heart and wished life could be simple for a change.
Although some things were straightforward. Like her son’s needs. She grabbed her robe from the corner of the bed and shrugged it on. Flicking her hair free and finger combing it, she went in search of her son for his morning feeding. She creaked open the nursery door.
Leonie sat in the window seat reading a gossip magazine. She looked up, bifocals sliding down on her nose. “Max is downstairs with the major. He insisted on watching him and who am I to argue with a hot man taking care of a baby.” She fanned her face with the magazine. “Phew. Now that’s sexy.”
“Thanks for the update, Leonie.” Gabrielle’s heart squeezed at the thought of Hank hurting over the loss of his friend and then having that friend’s child right there in front of him. But Hank, being Hank, was so busy thinking about others—letting her rest, giving Leonie a break—he put himself dead last.
Hopefully, she could feed Max quickly then go out for the morning. Take a walk with her son. Proofread a school paper in the park.
Gain some much needed distance and perspective to sort through her life.
She searched each of the bedrooms upstairs, but no Hank or Max. She took the back stairs into the kitchen, also empty other than a dish in the sink and a half-empty juice carton on the island. Her bare feet padded along the kitchen tile to the hardwood of the hall. She pinched the neck of her robe closed, wishing now that she’d taken a second to put on some clothes, or at least to put on a nightgown underneath.
Finally, she found Hank in the library. Curtains closed, the room stayed hazy with only minimal morning light shining through but it was plenty bright enough for her to see Hank. He lay stretched out asleep on the leather sofa.
Max slept on his chest.
Leonie was one smart cookie, because right now, Gabrielle couldn’t think of anything more appealing than the sight of her baby napping on Hank’s bare chest. His broad hand held the infant, and she didn’t doubt for a second that if Max so much as wriggled, Hank would keep him safely in place.
Hiring the sitter had been a thoughtful, generous gesture. But seeing how Hank chose to hold Max, to watch over him as he slept, that nearly brought Gabrielle to her knees.
A low buzzing sound drew her attention to the end table where Hank’s wallet and cell phone rested. The buzz sounded again, and she realized his cell was vibrating with an incoming call.
Hank reached over his head, grappled for the phone, and thumbed the ringer silent. He turned his head toward her, his eyes opening, blue and clear as if he’d been awake the whole time. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Only a minute or so. I need to nurse Max.”
Her son stirred at the sound of her voice, stretching his tiny arms over his head and yawning. She walked toward Hank as he sat up, adjusting his hold on Max like a seasoned pro.
“Sure, here you go.” He passed her boy over to her without touching her or meeting her eyes.
Silence settled between them, full of what he’d told her last night. She would have run upstairs right that second but Max wriggled in her arms, fussy and searching for food.
She sat on the end of the sofa, parting her robe and bringing her son to her breast. He squirmed, rooting frantically for a few seconds before latching on with a hungry sigh. Hank stayed on the far end of the couch, rubbing the back of his neck, looking from her to the hall and back again.
Hank’s phone vibrated again, and he snatched it up, turning it off altogether before stuffing it in his back pocket. For a guy who’d been sleeping so peacefully, his mood had certainly done a serious one-eighty now that he was awake.
The minute Max finished, she was definitely going to give herself and Hank some breathing room. She would even take Leonie along with her so Hank could have the house to himself. In fact, she heard Leonie on the stairway now, which gave her the perfect out.
“Hank, I think that—”
The doorbell rang, cutting her off short. She looked up fast just as Leonie rushed the rest of the way down the stairs.
Gabrielle cupped her son’s head protectively. Hank shot to his feet. Voices drifted from the hall, Leonie’s along with others she didn’t recognize.
She cradled her son closer. “Has someone broken into the house?”
Hank dropped back to the sofa, a curse hissing from between his tight teeth. “It’s not a break-in. It’s my family.”
Ten
Gabrielle wanted to run. Anywhere would be fine. Just some place far away from the four adults standing with Leonie in the archway staring at her, their jaws slack with surprise. Not that she could blame them. If only she’d had some advance warning she could have dashed upstairs to dress. But the curtains were closed, and she’d been so wrapped up in Max and Hank and making sure they both were all right, she’d completely missed Hank’s family’s approach.