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 been divorced for three years, she and Jack had always lived close. It’d been barely over a month since she’d sprung her marriage and cross-country move on him. The news shook him to the point that on his last mission, his concentration had been off while leading his team through a mine field. Damn near got them all killed. Once they were safely home, his CO hadn’t minced words about what a “shit storm” Tristan’s recent job performance had been. When the man whom Tristan greatly respected urged him to take time off, Tristan agreed.
“I had just found out I was pregnant when everything fell apart. The scandals only fully erupted after he was killed.” Leaning against the fort’s redwood frame, she turned reflective. “It was as if some higher power flipped a switch. One day, my life was intact. The next, it was gone.”
Exactly how he’d felt when Andrea took off.
After a few moments’ shared silence while he finished his lunch, she said, “Some days I have to force myself out of bed. For Cayden, and this little one,” she added with a pat to her belly. “I can’t just give up.”
“You’re lucky you have Cayden—and the baby.” He grabbed the cordless drill he’d brought along with an assortment of other tools from his house. He could’ve fought Andrea for joint custody, but figured in the end, it’d be harder for Jack.
The arrangement was pretty new, but he now only saw his son a couple times a year. Nowhere near enough. As much as it killed Tristan to admit, aside from him cabbaging on to his family, Jack’s stepfather was all right. An engineer. Worked nine to five and provided a more stable home life than Tristan ever could.
“You said you were in the navy, but never mentioned what you do.”
“I’m a SEAL.”
“For real?” She choked on a laugh.
He screwed in a support joist. “Why’s that so hard to believe?”
She twirled a dandelion she’d plucked from the yard. “Guess I never believed they existed outside of movies.”
“Yet you were married to a major league baseball player?”
Grinning up at him, she said, “I’ve met a hundred of those. Never met one SEAL.”
* * *
THE SECOND CAYDEN JUMPED OFF the school bus’s big bottom step, he ran across the front yard and into the house.
He dumped his book bag at the base of the stairs. “Mom!”
He ran calling from room to room, but didn’t find her—not even in the kitchen or bathroom.
She wasn’t dead, was she?
Ever since his dad died, he wondered what kept all of the other grown-ups alive. What if they all croaked? Who would make dinner and help with his baths and homework and tuck him into bed?
He dragged a chair from the kitchen table over to the counter where his mom kept the cookie jar. Climbing onto what his mom had called butcher-block wood, he grabbed three oatmeal cookies from the pig-shaped jar. He wished for chocolate chip, but ever since Mom said his baby sister was growing inside her, they had to be real healthy. That just made him hate his sister
