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Authors: Catherine Mann
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Always in motion, too, Nikki scooped three granola-bar wrappers—
starving Chris's, no doubt—off the coffee table, wadded them into a ball before lobbing them into a wicker trash basket. "How far along are you?"
What a loaded question since it would reveal the full extent of J.T.'s homecoming. Like her adult daughter wouldn't have guessed anyhow.
"Three months," Rena announced, then waited for the smart-ass comeback. Grown-up kids didn't accept quite as blindly as the little ones.
A knowing smile dimpled her cheek, inherited from her father. "A baby in time for Christmas. Cool."
Rena exhaled. Off the hook for now. Nikki pushed to her feet, starting a long-legged strut out of the room. Rena shifted in the overstuffed chair, adjusted her throbbing ankle on the pillow. She just wanted to get through this bizarre family reunion without an argument. One peaceful gathering. Bone-weary, heart-sore and more than a little rattled by the wreck and a short ride in her husband's arms, she didn't have the energy for confrontations before a serious nap.
They could all bolt back buffalo wings and chili and pretend everything was fine. Easy enough to do after twenty-two years' practice.
Nikki paused in the archway leading from the dining area back into the hall. She glanced over her shoulder, patting her own not-pregnant belly. "Oh, and Mom? Way to go, keeping those boundaries in place with Dad three months ago."
Winking, she spun away, glossy hair swinging against her ears with each cocky strut out of sight.
Rena wanted to call her daughter on that statement. Call herself, for that matter. But the brat had a point.
* * *
Thumping the minivan roof, J.T. stepped back from Julia Dawson's Windstar. She eased into the street and straightened, clearing the way for Bo's blocked Jeep to leave.
Which the young copilot would do, as soon as J.T. addressed one pressing matter.
J.T. jammed his hands in his pockets, dodging strategically planted clumps of flowers in Rena's tropical jungle that would put professional tour gardens to shame. He stopped beside the black Jeep. "Thanks for the help, man."
"No problem." Bo secured the canvas roof for an open-air ride. "Glad I could be here for you."
"You were more than just here for me. I won't forget." True. And he would do anything for this fellow crew member. Except give over his daughter. He wanted easier for his kid than the worries of military life.
A big part of the reason he'd left Rena, and now he had to figure out how to resolve all of that.
"Family's about more than blood relations, you know." Bo stared down at his wrist cast, flexed his scarred fingers poking out. Slowly. No wince. Not that showed anyway. His arm fell to his side heavily.
"I owe you."
Spring sun baked J.T.'s head with reminders of a February desert sun in another country. "You don't owe me a thing."
God, he didn't want to talk about that time. Especially not now when he needed his defenses up in full force to work his way past his prickly wife.
"Whatever." Bo's fingers continued to stretch, crook, stretch, crook until the strain lines erased from around the corners of his mouth. The old Bo slid back into place as smoothly as his smile. "Nikki sure has grown—"
"Watch it, sir," J.T. growled. "That's my daughter you're talking about."
Bo swallowed his laugh. "Damn, but the old master sergeants know how to make 'sir' sound like an insult."
"Then I guess we're even for the old comment."
"Guess so."
Tension eased from his spine. "If you're thinking you owe me something, pay me back by keeping away from my daughter."
"You can relax. Just yanking your chain. Jesus, man, you've got hot buttons so big, it's tough not to push
'em sometimes. No worries, though. I want to keep my other hand out of a cast for a while anyhow, only just got the damn thing off. As fun as it was having those nurses feed me, give me sponge baths…" His baby blues twinkled with devilish intent. "Well, eventually I gotta act, and two
starving Chris's, no doubt—off the coffee table, wadded them into a ball before lobbing them into a wicker trash basket. "How far along are you?"
What a loaded question since it would reveal the full extent of J.T.'s homecoming. Like her adult daughter wouldn't have guessed anyhow.
"Three months," Rena announced, then waited for the smart-ass comeback. Grown-up kids didn't accept quite as blindly as the little ones.
A knowing smile dimpled her cheek, inherited from her father. "A baby in time for Christmas. Cool."
Rena exhaled. Off the hook for now. Nikki pushed to her feet, starting a long-legged strut out of the room. Rena shifted in the overstuffed chair, adjusted her throbbing ankle on the pillow. She just wanted to get through this bizarre family reunion without an argument. One peaceful gathering. Bone-weary, heart-sore and more than a little rattled by the wreck and a short ride in her husband's arms, she didn't have the energy for confrontations before a serious nap.
They could all bolt back buffalo wings and chili and pretend everything was fine. Easy enough to do after twenty-two years' practice.
Nikki paused in the archway leading from the dining area back into the hall. She glanced over her shoulder, patting her own not-pregnant belly. "Oh, and Mom? Way to go, keeping those boundaries in place with Dad three months ago."
Winking, she spun away, glossy hair swinging against her ears with each cocky strut out of sight.
Rena wanted to call her daughter on that statement. Call herself, for that matter. But the brat had a point.
* * *
Thumping the minivan roof, J.T. stepped back from Julia Dawson's Windstar. She eased into the street and straightened, clearing the way for Bo's blocked Jeep to leave.
Which the young copilot would do, as soon as J.T. addressed one pressing matter.
J.T. jammed his hands in his pockets, dodging strategically planted clumps of flowers in Rena's tropical jungle that would put professional tour gardens to shame. He stopped beside the black Jeep. "Thanks for the help, man."
"No problem." Bo secured the canvas roof for an open-air ride. "Glad I could be here for you."
"You were more than just here for me. I won't forget." True. And he would do anything for this fellow crew member. Except give over his daughter. He wanted easier for his kid than the worries of military life.
A big part of the reason he'd left Rena, and now he had to figure out how to resolve all of that.
"Family's about more than blood relations, you know." Bo stared down at his wrist cast, flexed his scarred fingers poking out. Slowly. No wince. Not that showed anyway. His arm fell to his side heavily.
"I owe you."
Spring sun baked J.T.'s head with reminders of a February desert sun in another country. "You don't owe me a thing."
God, he didn't want to talk about that time. Especially not now when he needed his defenses up in full force to work his way past his prickly wife.
"Whatever." Bo's fingers continued to stretch, crook, stretch, crook until the strain lines erased from around the corners of his mouth. The old Bo slid back into place as smoothly as his smile. "Nikki sure has grown—"
"Watch it, sir," J.T. growled. "That's my daughter you're talking about."
Bo swallowed his laugh. "Damn, but the old master sergeants know how to make 'sir' sound like an insult."
"Then I guess we're even for the old comment."
"Guess so."
Tension eased from his spine. "If you're thinking you owe me something, pay me back by keeping away from my daughter."
"You can relax. Just yanking your chain. Jesus, man, you've got hot buttons so big, it's tough not to push
'em sometimes. No worries, though. I want to keep my other hand out of a cast for a while anyhow, only just got the damn thing off. As fun as it was having those nurses feed me, give me sponge baths…" His baby blues twinkled with devilish intent. "Well, eventually I gotta act, and two
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