Blessed Vows

She grabbed hold of her broom and was surprised at how worked up he was. She could sense how he’d been afraid for her safety, that was why he was all agitated. She didn’t know why she could feel his emotions or his intent. Maybe she was reading a lot into his behavior, but it was hard to be upset with a man who only wanted to protect her. Even if it was unnecessary, it was well-intentioned.

And wasn’t such goodness what she’d been praying for in a man? Not that he was The One, but still, a girl had to hope. “I’ll run ahead and open the garage door for you, and I’ll fix you a supper to remember. Is it a deal?”

“That’s a pretty tall order, but I’d sure appreciate it.” He didn’t take his steely gaze from the gobbling moose. “I don’t get home-cooked dinners very often.”

“Then I’ll see you at the house.”

His attention remained on his adversary as he backed toward his vehicle. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? You’d be safer.”

“I don’t think so.” How could it be safer to be in close quarters with the handsome, hunky, Special Forces soldier?

She glanced over her shoulder before she stepped into the garage through the side door. She could barely see the driveway over the top of Mom’s Climbing Blaze, the shower of red roses nearly hiding Jake’s SUV as he guided it forward at a slow pace, as if expecting the worst.

She couldn’t see through the glare on the windshield as the Jeep hugged the lazy curve of driveway along the edge of the lawn, but she imagined Jake was watching the road out of the corner of his eye and keeping a close watch on the moose.

All was well. The wild animal stayed crunching away at his diminishing pile of grain, his jowls working overtime. It looked as if the Jeep was out of danger for the time being, so she hit the button and the garage door groaned upward.

Jake’s vehicle was right outside, waiting as the door lifted the last bit. The glare on the windshield had lessened and she could see his silhouette behind the wheel. He was tall. Now that she had a chance to think about it, she remembered looking at the upper span of his chest when she’d stood facing him.

He was really tall, she amended. At least six, six-one.

The vehicle rolled to a stop and she hit the button again. The garage door hid the moose from sight. It didn’t hurt a girl to dream, Rachel decided as she backed through the threshold that led through the utility room and into the kitchen, sizing up the man.

He definitely looked like a beef-and-potatoes guy. Maybe she’d take another pass through the freezer and find that roast she knew was in there—

The vehicle’s door opened, but it wasn’t Jake’s door. It was the one directly behind it. What? That didn’t make any sense. Jake was still clearly sitting behind the wheel. She could see him perfectly through the windshield with the dome light backlighting him. He sat soldier-straight and commando-powerful.

There was someone else with him? Her brother hadn’t mentioned a second buddy coming in for the wedding that she’d have to feed, too. Not that she minded, but… Her thoughts stopped dead at the sight of a little girl climbing down from the back of the SUV.

Jake had a daughter? She was the cutest little thing, all spindly arms and legs and a cloud of chocolate-brown curls. She had to be about seven or eight and stylish in her matching pink-and-teal shirt and shorts set. Matching sandals with tassels decorated her feet, and a pair of pink barrettes were stuck into her thick, beautiful hair. Costume jewelry dangled from her wrist and her neck, and she held a tattered purple bunny that had seen much better days.

Oh, she was a sucker for kids. Suddenly it made sense that she’d found the Popsicles. It was as if one of God’s angels was giving her a clue. Now there was a treat waiting for this adorable little girl. Determined to be friends, Rachel gave a little wave. “Hi there. I’m Rachel.”

The little girl stared with big, wide, shy eyes and ducked back behind her open door for safety.

I know just how you feel. Rachel had been shy every day of her life. Her heart squeezed for the little girl, who had to be feeling out of her element.

Then Jake emerged, shrinking the cavernous size of the triple garage with his sheer magnetic presence. He held out one big hand, gentle despite his size. “C’mon, Sally baby. This is Ben’s sister I told you about.”

“’Kay.” She took Jake’s hand and let him lead her through the garage. The little girl looked resigned and not happy.

Determined to cheer her up, Rachel offered the child her friendliest smile, but the girl intentionally sent her gaze upward, looking around at the various shelves of tools, lawn stuff, Ben’s old hunting gear and every imaginable outdoor activity stored overhead in the rafters—from the canoe to the cross-country skis.

Jake, however, did return her grin. He had a nice grin, one that softened the hard granite of his chiseled face and etched dimples into his lean cheeks. “I don’t know if Ben mentioned I had Sally in tow with me. I had planned on picking her up after the wedding, but things didn’t work out that way.”

Oh, divorce, Rachel guessed. Shared custody. That couldn’t be easy for anyone involved. “No problem. Life rarely works out the way you think it will. I was just about to defrost a roast.” If I can find it. “So that will be enough for all three of us. Sally, may I ask you something?”

The little girl nodded, her pretty emerald eyes wide and somber.

“Do you and your bunny want to help me pick out what kind of potatoes to make?”

Another shy nod.

“Excellent. Are you a mashed-potatoes kind of girl? Or do you like Tater Tots?”

“Tater Tots!” Some of her reserve diminished, and she hugged her bunny tight. “Uncle Jake don’t know how to make ’em right.”

Uncle Jake? Rachel shot a glance at the unlikely uncle closing his door and nudging the child along in front of him. “It takes talent to know how to get Tater Tots just right. Do you like ’em soft and crumbly or crisp?”

“A little crisp but still kinda all soft in the middle, but not so it’s still cold.”

“Me, too.” Since it was hard not to like a man who took the time to spend with his niece, especially on his limited stateside visit, she’d ask his opinion, too. “Are you a Tater Tot man or a mashed?”

“Strictly French fry, but I can make an exception.”

“Maybe I can rustle up a few fries for the man who defended us from the dangerous wild moose. A man needs a reward.”

Okay, he could tell when someone was amused at his expense. “You could have told me the thing was more of a pet than a wild dangerous animal. I did ask.”

“He’s not a pet. He’s just…” She shrugged.

“Got your number.” It wasn’t too hard to see that Rachel was a genuinely nice person. “Okay, I went a little commando. I had Sally to protect. She’s been through enough.”

“I’m not blaming you, City Boy. I just wondered if you had fun playing with poor Bullwinkle.”

“Not so much.”

He liked her. He liked the twinkle of humor in her eye. That she was as friendly as could be without batting her eyes at him like a marriage-minded woman. He did not have a great neon sign pasted to his forehead that blinked, “Not married!” He liked that she was easygoing and that she was pretty up close. Very pretty.

And here he’d been dreading this. He’d originally planned to fly in tomorrow morning, bright and early, and do the wedding and fly home, but Sally had changed things. Here he was in town early, and Ben wasn’t here to meet him.

He didn’t blame his friend. Instead of a rehearsal dinner, the groom had reservations at one of the nicest restaurants in the area to spend a quiet pre-wedding evening with his bride-to-be, and there was no way Jake wanted him to cancel that. But when Ben had suggested this, Jake had felt obligated to accept this invitation. A home-cooked meal would be good for Sally.

Her hand in his felt so small and held on so tightly. There was a surprising strength in her fingers—or maybe it was need. The way she clung to him was an undeniable reminder of the promises he’d just finished making to her. From the day she’d been born, she’d had a sweet little spot in his heart and now that he was the only one left to look after her, he was only more committed. How he was going to keep those promises to her, he didn’t know. Not when his job took him to dangerous corners of the world and kept him there.

Rachel had disappeared through a connecting door on the other side of a laundry room—it was a nice set-up. A closet lined one wall and a washer and dryer covered the wall on his right. Through the window he caught a glimpse of the backyard filled with lush green grass and blooming red roses and big yellow-faced flowers in tidy beds. Trees stood on the far side of the lawn, and that’s all he saw before he tugged Sally into the kitchen after their hostess.

“Let me get you something,” she said from across a spacious country kitchen.

Nice. He didn’t know why he thought so, maybe it was because he’d been on Temporary Duty way too long. Home had become a desert base with a tent over his head and food served on a tray.

Everything smelled so good. The floor of fresh pine and the air like cookies. A chipped coffee mug sat on the granite counter stuffed with red roses from the vines outside. Their old-fashioned fragrance took him back to his grandma’s house when he was a kid, where he ran wild during the summers on their San Fernando Valley farm. Maybe that was why he felt at ease with the pretty woman in the kitchen, who looked as if she were in her element as she yanked open the fridge door.

“We’ve got milk, soda, juice. What’s your pleasure?” She looked to Sally first. “I have strawberry soda.”

“Strawberry!” Sally gave a little leap, taking his hand with her. “Can I, Uncle Jake?” She beamed up at him with those big green eyes and he was helpless. They both knew it.

“Sure.” He’d have to figure out how to say no to her eventually; being a parent was a whole world different than being an uncle.

Sorrow stabbed him, swift and unexpected. He couldn’t get used to Jeanette being gone. He dealt with death a lot in the military; he’d lost close friends and team members and soldiers he’d admired. But to lose his sister crossing the street on the way to her office, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to Sally.

“I’ve got two cartoon cups to pick from.” Rachel held the cupboard door open wide, displaying characters he didn’t even recognize.

He hadn’t watched cartoons since he was a kid. But Sally lit up and chose one with a big dinosaur on it while Rachel took the other one. She popped one can, filled it, foam and all, to the top of the plastic cup and set it on the round oak table to his right.

It was strange, this big kitchen and eating space, with kids’ school pictures framed on the walls—the clothes and hairstyles from decades ago. Through the picture window next to the table he saw half of an old-fashioned metal swing set and slide, in good repair, as if someone had painted it not too long ago. “Ben didn’t say. Do you live here alone?”

“Yep. It’s way too big for me, but the memories here are good ones. What would you like to drink?”

“Ben said you were a waitress. I can see you’re probably an excellent one.”

“It’s a hard job, tougher than people realize. But it’s the family business, and I like it because I get to make all the chocolate milk shakes I want.” She waited, hand on the refrigerator door, one slim brow lifted in a silent question. “What’ll it take to wet your whistle, sir?”

“If you’ve got root beer in there, I’ll be eternally in your debt.”

“I’ll hold you to that, soldier.” With a wink, she reached inside the well-organized fridge and withdrew two more soda cans.

Before she could snag him one of those breakable glasses neatly organized in the cupboard on the shelf above the cartoon cups, he stole the can out of her hand. “I’m not used to being waited on. Put me to work.”

“Work?” She looked him up and down, taking in the strong and capable look of him. “Don’t tempt me, or I’ll take you up on it.”

He perused her big pink slippers and her comfy clothes and the fact that she hadn’t had time to do up her hair into anything remotely involving hair spray and gels or whatever it was women put in their hair. That said everything. “Did you have other plans before Ben strong-armed you into doing this tonight?”

“Plans with the couch and an old movie. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow night. Or the next night.” She poured the contents of her can into the plastic mug, and the sweet-smelling pink liquid fizzed. “Wait!”

He had hold of the cup the instant she stopped pouring.

“Hey, what are you doing taking my strawberry soda?”

“What? Do you think I’m stealing it from you?”

“That’s what it looks like. I call things like I see ’em.”

“And what, that look of outrage is because you didn’t know you were letting a strawberry soda bandit into your house?”

“That, and you’re setting a very bad example for Sally.”

“Is that true, Sal?” He sent a wink to his niece, who’d seated herself at the table and was sipping from the cup with both hands.

Her solemn gaze met his over the wide rim. Strawberry soda stained her mouth as she said the words of betrayal. “Stealing’s wrong, Uncle Jake.”

“Hey, I’m one of the good guys. Or at least that’s what they tell me.” And because he knew what it was like to put in a long hard workweek, he wasn’t about to give up the glass of soda. “How about I wait on you? You said you had a date with the couch?”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“I never joke, ma’am. I’m an air force commando. Duty is my name.”

“Yeah, yeah, you forget I have a brother who spouts that macho stuff all the time.” She waved him off as if she knew better, as if she had his number.

Fine. The trouble was, now that he wasn’t worrying about a rampaging moose, he could get a real good look at her. He liked what he saw. She was petite, there was no other word for her. Delicate, for lack of a better word. She had the clearest, creamiest skin he’d ever seen, and the gentlest manner.

A real nice woman. He wasn’t about to impose on her like a deadbeat. No, he wasn’t that kind of man, although he read her look of skepticism loud and clear. That was okay. He wasn’t bothered by it.

“Follow me,” he said, trusting that she would.

Chapter Three

She did follow him. Jake monitored the pad of her slippers against the carpet a good two to three paces behind him. “That’s it. Keep coming.”

“I want my strawberry soda back in the kitchen where it belongs.” She didn’t have a sharp voice or an angry edge. No, she was all softness and warm humor, as if he were amusing her to the nth degree.

He wasn’t used to softness and humor, not in his life of duty and service. So, he thought he’d enjoy the chance to amuse her some more. “Is there a house rule about keeping all food and beverages in the kitchen?”

“There is, as a matter of fact.”

“Funny. I didn’t see a sign.”

“It has to be a sign?”

“Sure. If it’s not written down, it’s not a law I have to follow.”

“Yeah? Then for you I’ll make an exception.”

He liked the rumbling music of her chuckle. It was an appealing sound, one a man could get used to. Nice.

And so was the house, he thought as he stepped inside the sizeable living room. Spacious. Comfortable. It was the kind of place a guy could get used to putting his feet up on that scuffed coffee table that sat in the middle of a big sink-into-me sectional. The TV was big and new, and in the winter this would sure be a great spot to sit and watch football with a fire in the gray rock fireplace.

He used an old television guide as a coaster and left the drink on the coffee table within easy reach. “Sit there. Put your feet up.”

“That would be rude considering I’m supposed to be cooking you dinner.”

He held out his hand, palm up and waited for her to take it. “C’mon. I’m the guest, right? So humor me.”

“My mother taught me to be wary of men wanting to be humored.”

“Sounds like your mama raised you right. And so did mine. It may be hard to believe to look at me, but I’ve got a few manners.” He shifted closer to her with his hand still out, still waiting. “What’s it going to be? Are you going to do what I ask? Or am I gonna have to make ya?”

“Men.” Rachel sized up the commando in her living room, with his dazzling grin and his hand held out, palm up, waiting for her to place her fingers there. “Suddenly I remember why it is that I’m single.”

“Those bunny slippers?”

He clearly thought he was a comedian, but he wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought. “No, judging by my slippers you might be misled to think men have avoided me on purpose.”

“I don’t think that, believe me.”

“But it’s been my choice. Most men are bossy.”

“We’re made that way.”

“Sadly.” He didn’t seem the least bit sorry about it. He was incorrigible, and she liked that in a man, too. He had nice eyes—kind ones—and she was a sucker for a good-hearted man. How was she going to ever say no to this one?

Willpower, she directed herself. “I’m supposed to be the hostess. You’ve flown all this way to be Ben’s best man. The least I can do is talk you into sitting down and putting up your feet.”

“Good luck. But let me warn you, I’m stubborn.”

“I’m stubborn, too.” There was no way she was going to give in to the temptation to place her fingertips on his big rough palm.

Oh yes, she wanted to. His palm was wide and relaxed, and calluses roughened the skin at the base of his fingers. He worked hard. She liked that in a man too.

His hands had scars—not big ones, just nicks that had long healed over, and those calluses. She imagined him fast-roping from a helicopter or carrying wounded on a litter. Essentially male, wholly masculine, everything a man ought to be.

And suddenly she felt it in the pit of her stomach. A little tingle of anxiety. Her shyness seemed to rear up and leave her speechless. It was one thing to have her brother’s military buddy drop by. It was another to be alone with a smart, brave and warm-hearted soldier.

If only she could untie the knot her tongue had gotten itself into and say something wonderful to make him laugh some more. To show off the dimples in his hard, carved cheeks.

“I’m waiting.” He arched one brow, but he wasn’t intimidating in the least. He should be—he was a big man, and the slightest movement made muscles ripple beneath his sun-bronzed skin.

But he was a gentle giant down deep, Rachel was sure of it. “How about you and Sally sit down with me? We’ll find something on the tube that all three of us can enjoy and after a while, I’ll sneak into the kitchen and start supper.”

“There’ll be no sneaking on my watch. I’ve got a sharp eye.” His hand hovered in a silent question.

And she answered just as quietly by placing her fingers in the center of his palm. Wow. It was all she could think the instant they touched. An energy jolted through her like a lightning strike—or heaven’s touch.

She felt seared all the way to her soul. It was as if her entire central nervous system short-circuited—she couldn’t seem to talk. She could barely manage to be coordinated enough to sit down.

Wow, was all her poor fried brain could think. Wow. Wow. Wow. Lord, he can’t be the one. He can’t be. Look how he acted as if nothing had happened. It probably hadn’t on his end. She searched his clear dark eyes and the calm steady way he moved away from her with sheer athletic grace as he ambled out of sight.

She’d read about moments like this, that instant punch of something extra that said this man was special. Above the ordinary. Meant to last. Okay, she read inspirational romances one after another. She always had her nose in one, but she’d never believed, never thought once that it could happen to her.

Not that it was a life-changing moment. It was just a snap of something extra, making her more aware of this man’s goodness than others she’d come across.

Why? He couldn’t be the one. He lived on the other side of the country and he worked in faraway places on other continents. Plus, he was leaving after the wedding.

He’s not the one. She was imagining all this, right? She was tired, she hadn’t eaten since she’d been able to work in an early sandwich before the lunchtime rush. She was feeling the weight of being a bridesmaid for the umpteenth time. Not that she minded, no way. And especially because this was her brother’s wedding.

But she wanted to be a bride. She wanted the real thing, a sweet storybook wedding with the man she would love for all time. That’s why she was feeling this…wishful thinking. Pretty powerful, but wishful thinking all the same.

The pleasant rumble of his voice from the kitchen drew her attention. It was like a tingling warmth in her heart, and she’d never felt that before either. She could hear Sally’s answer and then the faint scrape of the wood chair on tile.

That’s why I feel so wowed by him. It all made sense now. She loved a man who was good with children. And his niece was a cutie, that was for sure. It was sweet he was spending time with her. And now that she knew why she was so taken with him, it would be easier to keep things in perspective.

“Hey, Rachel.” Jake rounded the corner with Sally at his side, her small hand engulfed by his huge one. “Mind if she uses the facilities?”

“First door on the right.” Rachel stood, but Jake waved her back and deftly disappeared beyond the edge of the fireplace. In a few seconds, a door closed down the hall.

What she really ought to do was to take another crack at finding that roast. The soda would keep—it was fizzing and bubbling merrily in the cartoon cup.

As for her aching feet, she could get a few more hours out of them, she thought as she cut through the dining room and dashed down the basement steps. Her guests would be busy for a few moments, and if she could just find that roast—

“Running away from me?” Jake’s baritone was filled with friendly, warm amusement.

Good thing she wasn’t affected. “Not running any farther than the freezer. Why don’t you help yourself to the remote? I don’t mean to be a bad hostess, I’m just digging stuff out for supper.”

“Suppose I help you with that?” His steps sounded behind her on the stairs.

“Oh, I can get things just fine.” Actually, what she needed was someone who was tall enough to reach all the way to the bottom of the freezer. Was she going to admit that to him? No. “I’ll be right up, okay?”

No answer was forthcoming, although the approaching rasp of sneakers on the cement floor trailed her to the freezer room. Rachel yanked on the light.

And there he was, he’d caught up to her, and let out a breath of awe. “Wow. Did you do all this canning?”

“My sisters lent a hand.” She supposed the floor-to-ceiling shelving and all the jars sitting on them did look impressive. “We like to can.”

“I’ll say.”

“It’s something our mom used to do. She’d get all of us to help her, even Amy when she was just a preschooler. We’d all peel and cook and fill jars.” She reached to open the freezer lid, but his hand was already there, lifting the lid and exposing the icy contents to the glare of the light.

That’s how she felt, illuminated in the deep reaches of her self. How could talking about the preserving jars on the shelf do that? Simple, she realized. “It was everything good in our childhoods. Maybe that sounds corny, but the memories are good ones. The kind that really matter.”

“That make you who you are?”

His comment surprised her, this tough commando who had lobbed a rock like a grenade in the driveway as if at war. He was understanding, and she decided she liked him even more. “When my sisters and I do our yearly frenzy of making jams and canning, it always brings us back, makes us part again of that time in our childhoods when Mom was alive and her warm laughter seemed to bounce around the kitchen like sunbeams.”