His Baby Bargain

Working to keep his emotional distance, he let his glance sift over her in a way he knew annoyed her, then challenged, “Why do you care?”

Especially after she’d already told everyone she was giving up on him. And walking away...

A fact that had somehow irked him.

“I don’t know.” She plucked a banana from the bunch. Looked over at him and sighed. “Maybe it’s because I feel disrespected by you.”

Disrespected! “In what sense?” He’d come here to extend the olive branch. Not drive her away with bad behavior the way he had a week ago. And yet here they were, bringing out the worst in each other...again...

Setting the peeled banana on a plate, she frowned and said, “In the sense that people tend to not tell me sad or upsetting stories since Anthony died.” She raked a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. “It’s as if they’re afraid that I’m so fragile, if they say or do the wrong thing, they’ll push me over the edge.”

He lounged against the counter, opposite Charley. He empathized with her. “I’m familiar with the walking-on-eggshells part.”

She wheeled her son’s high chair closer to the breakfast table, sat down and began to mash the fruit with a fork. “Then you can also understand my frustration at having apparently been tasked with getting your help and yet simultaneously been cut out of the loop. Because there is clearly something more going on here than what I’d been told.”

He could see she felt blindsided, when all she’d been trying to do was help. The wounded vet, Alyssa Barnes. Him. Champ. And in that sense, he did owe her. So...he drew up a chair on the other side of Charley, sat down and said, “You want to know what happened?”

She nodded, expression tense.

Matt gulped. “I saw a dog get blown up right in front of me.” And worse... “His death was my fault.”

Chapter Three

Sara stared at Matt, hardly able to comprehend what he had just said. “And your family knows you were a part of such a terrible tragedy?” she asked, aghast. Or more horrifying still, that he felt personally responsible?

His expression closed and inscrutable, Matt watched her begin to feed her son. “I’m not really sure what they know.”

Sara spooned up a bit of mashed banana from Charley’s chin. “But you haven’t told them,” she ascertained quietly.

As he exhaled, his broad shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “It would freak my mom and dad out to know how close I came to dying. So no, I didn’t give them any specifics other than what was reported in the news. That our base was hit by suicide bombers in the middle of the night. And there were no injuries or fatalities among our soldiers.”

Thank heaven for that, she thought. Resisting the urge to jump up and hug him fiercely only because she thought such a move would be rejected, she asked, “Was it a bomb-sniffing dog who saved you?”

“No,” Matt said hoarsely. “Mutt was one of a half dozen strays we picked up over there and took in.”

Sara caught the note of raw emotion in his voice. She slanted Matt another empathetic glance, then rose and got two bottles of water from the fridge. “The army lets you do that?”

He tilted his head. “It depends on the commanding officer and the situation.” Matt relaxed when Charley turned and grinned at him. He stuck out his hand, and Charley latched on to his palm, banging it up and down on the tray. “Our CO thought having dogs around was good for morale. Reminded us of home. Gave us something other than the war to think about.”

Sara could see that. Relieved that he was finally confiding in her, she walked back to join Matt and her son at the breakfast table.

“So he let us keep them and train them, but no one person was allowed to adopt any one dog. The deal was the pets belonged to the unit, and we had to rotate their care,” Matt related. “Anyone who was interested could sign up, and on the day and night you were assigned, you fed and walked a dog, and got to sleep with that particular dog next to your bunk.”

Sara knew full well the healing power of animals. “Sounds nice.” Their fingers brushed when she handed him his water.

For the briefest of seconds, Matt leaned into her touch. “It was.”

Still tingling from the casual contact, Sara uncapped her water, took a sip, then resumed feeding Charley. She needed to hear the rest of the story, as much as Matt needed to tell it. “So what happened to make you feel responsible for Mutt’s death?”

Matt gently extricated his palm from Charley’s fingers. He looked away a heartrending moment, then took a long drink. “You really want to hear this?” he finally asked.

Her heart went out to him, and again, it was all she could do not to stand up and hug him. “I really do,” she answered softly. It was the only way she’d begin to understand him and what he’d been through. The only way he’d begin to heal, too.

Wearily, Matt scrubbed a hand down his face. He seemed reluctant, but began to relate: “I had Mutt that night. He woke up around two in the morning, and he was nosing my hand, signaling he needed to go out.”

Made sense.

“It seemed urgent, and I thought it was a routine potty break, so I stumbled out of bed and opened the door to our barracks. Then all hell broke loose.”

Sara’s heart lurched as she pictured the scene.

Matt shook his head, unable to completely camouflage his grief. “Mutt picked up the scent of whatever he’d heard and bolted away from me at top speed, barking his head off. Woke everyone and all the other dogs up.”

Sara could imagine that, too.

Matt jerked in a shuddering breath. “Turned out we had a dozen suicide bombers in the compound, ready to kill us all.” His voice caught at the unbearable pain of that memory. “Mutt attacked the closest one, and the guy blew himself up. And Mutt along with him.” Briefly, he couldn’t go on. His eyes glistened. “Just like that, they were both dead. And a minute or so later, thanks to the swift action of our soldiers,” he said hoarsely, “so were all the other enemy combatants.”

This time she couldn’t resist. Sara reached over to touch his arm, her fingers curving around the hard, thick muscles. “Oh, Matt...” she said, aware it was all she could do not to burst into tears herself.

Her attempt to comfort him, even a little, failed.

His forearm remained stiff, resisting. He shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes. In abject misery, he confessed, “The hell of it is, if I had just been a little more alert, or wary... If I would have had my gun, I would have taken out the bomber before Mutt got to him. But I didn’t.” He swallowed hard.

Aware her initial instincts not to touch Matt had been on point, Sara dropped her hand and went back to feeding a now sleepy-looking Charley the last of his mashed fruit. At least Matt was talking; she held on to that.

“What about the other dogs?” she asked softly, wanting him to get the rest of the story out, to have that much-needed catharsis. “You said there were no troop injuries...”

His glance still averted, Matt released a breath. “There were some injuries. Shrapnel. None of the other dogs were killed.” Hands knotting, he shook his head. “But it could have very easily gone another way,” he admitted rawly.

With multiple fatalities of soldiers and canines, Sara thought.

Matt drained the rest of his water. “That incident made me realize my time to be effective was gone.” Regret tautening his masculine features, he slanted her a look. “I’d already notified the Army I would be resigning my commission and heading back to the USA when my tour was up. And so, that’s what I did.”

Sara offered Charley a sippy cup of milk.

“And your family...?” Did the McCabes know even part of what he’d just told her?

Apparently not, from his reaction.

Matt’s brows lowered like thunderclouds over his gray-blue eyes. “They know I don’t talk about what happened over there.”

“Except you just did.”

He frowned. “Only because I want you to know. So you’ll stop asking me if I can be hands-on with Champ or any other puppy, because I just can’t. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.” His grimace deepened. “Not ever again.”

Talk about a textbook case of PTSD. Sighing, she got a washcloth and cleaned Charley’s face and hands. Removed his bib.

Matt came closer. His mood shifting, now that his heart-wrenching confession had been made, he gazed gently down at Charley, who was now slamming both his palms happily on the high chair tray. “So I’ll gladly write a check. But as for the rest,” he gritted out, “there is just no way, Sara.”

Sara understood guilt, unwanted memories and unbearable pain. More than he would ever know.

Matt exhaled. Then moved so she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “And I would appreciate it,” he said, as their gazes locked, held, “if you didn’t talk to anyone else about what I’ve just told you.”

Even if it would help him eventually? Sara wondered, conflicted. Still, she knew a confidence deserved to be kept. So she did what she knew in her heart was right for their friendship, which miraculously seemed to be resuming.

“Okay,” she said, letting out a long breath, and lounging against the counter, too. “I won’t tell anyone what you went through over there. But if you do want to talk to someone...someday...”

He moved away again, his manner as gruff as his low voice. “No. All I want to do is put it behind me.”

Easier said than done, she thought.

But she understood.

Sometimes the only way to get past pain that immense was to stop reliving it and move on. Survive and advance. Hour by hour...day by day.

He removed a checkbook and pen from his shirt pocket.

“So, what do you think it will take to fund a drive for volunteer puppy raisers? Will a thousand dollars be okay to start?” He squinted at the hesitation he saw on her face. “What?”

Noticing Charley was beginning to look very sleepy, she lifted him out of his high chair, walked into the living room and sat down in the rocker glider. She brushed her lips across the top of his head, then positioned him so his chest was cuddled against hers, his head nestled in the crook of her shoulder.

Aware Matt was watching her closely, appearing to feel the same tenderness for her son that she did, she returned. “New ideas, and the money to fund them, are always appreciated.”

He followed and settled on the ottoman opposite her. Knees spread, hands clasped in front of him. “But?” he asked quietly.

She smiled ruefully, as Charley sighed and closed his eyes. “I’ll be blunt. I don’t think this is going to solve your problem with your family.”

Matt frowned. “Why not?”

Since Charley was drowsy enough to put down, she rose and carried him over to the Pack ’n Play in the corner of the breakfast nook. When she’d settled him, she turned back to Matt and said, “Because I know your sister, Lulu, and your mother, and they’re going to see any extroverted action by you, no matter how small, as a much-needed breakdown of the walls you’ve put up around you since you came back from the Middle East. And they are going to want to expand on that.”

Matt frowned. “So their nagging will increase, not decrease. Is that it?”

“Pretty much.” She went into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

Arms folded in front of him, Matt lounged against the counter again. “So what do you suggest?”

She shrugged, wishing he didn’t fit into her household quite so easily. “It’s your family.”

He watched her measure coffee into the paper filter. With a wry half smile, he pointed out, “You come from a large family, too, darlin’.”

As always, the endearment melted her heart and made her way too aware of him. Physically, and in other ways, too. She poured water into the reservoir.

“Yes, but mine are spread out all over the country now. So their ability to badger me in person is limited mostly to phone calls and texts. They generally don’t just show up on my doorstep. Well,” she amended hastily at his skeptical expression, “my parents have come to see us a few times, and hinted that I should start looking for a job close to the university where they live and teach in Colorado Springs. But for now at least they’ve accepted that I want to raise Charley in the community where Anthony and I grew up.”

His glance drifted over her. “Think you will ever change your mind?”

Good question, one she was still wrestling with. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I like my job at Healing Meadow Veterinary Hospital. They’ve been really good about extending my maternity leave past the terms I initially thought I wanted.”

Although it had been rough, going through the last six months of her pregnancy alone, after her husband’s death. She’d had the support of her work colleagues and other single moms that she knew. Plus, her parents had come to Texas for Charley’s birth, and helped her for a few weeks after that, but since then, she had been mostly on her own, with help from friends whenever she needed and or wanted it. Of course, it wasn’t the same as going through a pregnancy with a loving husband at her side, sharing every moment of Charley’s growth and development with his daddy. Having Matt around today had shown her that. Made her long for an intact nuclear family, and the kind of hope-filled future a situation like that would bring.

Luckily, Matt had no way of knowing how emotional she was feeling, deep down inside.

Still, his attention deepened in a way that warmed her from the inside out. In deference to her sleeping son, he moved slightly closer and kept his voice low. “What terms did you want from your employer?”

She swallowed and tried not to flush. She may have had an unrequited crush on Matt once—when they were teens—but they were destined to be nothing more than friends now.

“Six months.”

Turning away, she forced herself to ignore the intense yearning for closeness, and the flutter of desire that swept through her. “But now that Charley is six months old, I can see I’m not quite ready to go back full-time.”

Ignoring the masculine warmth and strength emanating from his tall body, she busied herself wiping down the high chair. “So I’m going to stay on leave another three months, and then ease into work by taking emergency calls every other weekend, and seeing patients one day a week.”

Matt observed, “And you’re taking on Champ, too.”

Who, Sara noted, was curled up in a ball in his indoor puppy pen, fast asleep.

“For just a month or so.” She hoped, anyway. “But yeah, I really am going to have to find someone to help me with that.”

She got out the cream and sugar and set them on the island, along with a plate of oatmeal-cranberry-pecan cookies.

Matt watched her fill two mugs. “What about Charley?”

Their fingers touched as she handed him his mug. Aware she was tingling more now than she had been before, Sara furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“You said you were going to need help to work with Champ and watch your son simultaneously.”

Sara stirred in cream and sugar. “Right.”

Matt drank his black. “Would you consider letting me assist you with your son?”

Sara paused. Was this guilt talking—or something else? She looked him up and down. “Let me get this straight. You...Mr. Lonesome...want to be Charley’s baby wrangler?”

Matt’s broad shoulders lifted in an affable shrug. “Why not? He likes hanging out with me. I like hanging out with him.” He paused. “Don’t trust me?”

Sara blushed. Yet another obstacle to her going back to work. “Actually,” she admitted with chagrin, “I don’t really trust anyone except for Bess Monroe, and your sister, Lulu, with Charley—if Bess is around to supervise, and I only have confidence in Bess because she’s a registered nurse.” Which was, on the face of it, pretty neurotic, she knew.

“Ah.” Matt dunked the edge of his cookie in his coffee. “New-mom anxiety.”

Heat rose in the center of her chest as she waved off her worry. “I know it’s silly...”

“But it’s the way you feel, darlin’. No shame in that.”

Pleased to find him honoring her feelings instead of making fun of them, Sara nodded. “Exactly,” she said softly. “Plus, I really don’t want to be away from Charley for all the time it’s going to take to socialize Champ because then I’d end up feeling I was neglecting him. So it’s a real conundrum.”

Matt finished off his cookie, understanding again. “How do you formally socialize a puppy, anyway?”

“By introducing him to as many different people and places as possible over the next month. So he’ll be comfortable no matter where he is.”

“Sounds...interesting.”

Sara smiled, suddenly aware how cozy this all felt. With the two of them there, chatting, and the puppy and baby sleeping nearby.

Matt was going to make a wonderful husband and father someday.

Trying not to think about the toe-curling kisses they’d already shared, she admitted, “The outings would be good for Charley, too. He’s spent way too much time at home with just me, thus far. But—” Sara took another sip from her mug “—I can’t handle both Champ and Charley out in public by myself.” Which meant some sort of accommodations would have to be made.

Again, Matt understood. Practical as always, he asked, “So why don’t we do it together, then?”

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