Blessed Vows (2 page)

The trouble was, he'd been stateside four days, and it hadn't been time enough to settle his sister's estate, and already his colonel wanted to know when he could get back to active duty.

And Sally…how did he comfort a grieving child? He was a rough-and-tumble Special Forces soldier. As a para-rescue jumper, or PJ, he knew how to jump out of an airplane from twenty-five thousand feet, parachute in and set up a perimeter, execute a mission without a single mishap.

He had Sally, but what was he going to do? It had him stumped.

As if he didn't have enough on his mind, the moose was still glaring angrily at the Jeep from his field. Maybe it was the color that was making him so angry. While the animal had backed away, he hadn't backed down. He still swung his head from side to side and pawed the ground. The Jeep was definitely in danger.

But was Rachel?

“You stay belted in, Sally.” He shut the door, leaving her safe and considered Rachel McKaslin, his best buddy's little sister. She was out in the open and unconcerned. Did she know the threat? He stalked the good five yards separating them, keeping a close watch on that moose.

Rachel lowered her broom. “I'm sorry. I should have anticipated this. Bullwinkle does this every evening.”

“Bullwinkle?”

“It's just what I call him. I should have fed him and the horse earlier, and you wouldn't have been so rudely welcomed.”

“I thought you said he wasn't your pet.”

“Not a pet, no, more like a sometimes friendly, sometimes not, wild animal who's decided to take up residence around here and chase the horses away from his grain trough. He's a pushy moose.”

“Pushy, huh?” Jake paced closer to protect Rachel, watching as the moose lowered his head and started to
charge. Great. On a mission, Jake was prepared for every contingency. He just hadn't thought he'd have to be on alert on a simple trip down a gravel driveway. “Want to give me that broom? It looks like he's coming in for round two.”

“I can take care of him.”

Jake's hand shot out and he had the broom before she could blink.

“Hey! You took my broom.”

“I did.”

“But it's my moose. I can handle him.”

“I'm trained to serve and protect, so I might as well make myself useful.” The handle was solid hardwood. He'd excelled at hand-to-hand combat. “Rachel, stay behind me.”

“You're a little bossy, too. It's a moose, not war.”

“Everything's war, pretty lady.” He timed the moose's gait, waited until the huge ungainly creature was coming head-on and then shot out and rapped him on the nose.

Big nostrils flared, the moose skidded to a stop and shook his head.

“That smarted, didn't it?” Jake kept the broom at the ready. “Do you need another smack?”

The moose's eyes rolled in anger.

Uh-oh.
“Maybe that wasn't the best course of action. It works with sharks who get a little too aggressive.”

“Smacking them in the nose?”

“Yep. It works every time.”

“He's pushy, but mostly harmless. All I need to do is get him some grain. Wait here. With you at my back to cover me with a broom, I feel perfectly safe.” She sauntered away, as if without a care in the world.

He was a soldier with fifteen years of experience spent in parts of this world few Americans saw. He'd seen evil, touched evil and battled it. Real evil. And he had the scars to prove it. Even remembering made his heart ache.

He was glad that Rachel McKaslin's biggest problem at the moment was her semi-pet moose. There was peace and goodness in this world. It didn't hurt that he got to see a rare glimpse of it before he headed back to guard this country's freedom.

It didn't hurt to see what he was fighting for.

C
ould she see Jake from here? Rachel absently unsnapped the grain barrel's lid and stood on tiptoe. Her attention was elsewhere, straining to see across the aisle, through Nugget's box stall and past the open top of the half door.

Nope. No such luck. She saw plenty of sky and maple trees and the lawn in front of the house. But no Jake.

Pity, since he was such a sight. She had the right to look because he hadn't been wearing a wedding ring. He was pleasing to the eye, pleasing in the way God intended a man to be. But there was more to him, and that was the attractive part—Mr. Jake Hathaway, Special Forces hero, defending and protecting.

He sure had seemed to be in control. He had to be to participate in all kinds of secret missions in the military.
Handling a moose was no challenge for him. He'd tossed that rock as easily as if he'd been skimming stones on a pond and expertly enough so that he'd winged the animal on his antler and hadn't caused any real harm.

And just what did he think of her?
Please, don't let him think I'm a nut bar.
She rolled her eyes as she removed the lid and reached for the scoop. She was still wearing her fuzzy bunny slippers!

She hadn't had a chance to run a brush through her hair or change out of her comfy after-work clothes. So she wasn't exactly looking her best; she was more like looking her worst.

Great way to make a first impression.

This
was the reason she didn't have a boyfriend. She kept scaring them off. That was why she made sure, when she prayed for the right man to come along, that he have a sense of humor.

He would definitely need it.

She grabbed a pail from the shelf, dumped in three scoops of sweet-smelling grain and sealed the bin. Nugget was leaning over the side doorway, nickering in hopes of an early supper, poor guy. After leaving him with promises of grain to come, she hurried with the small bucket down the aisle and crawled through the paddock fence that faced the driveway.

Jake was still wielding the broom defensively, but the moose was a little farther off with his head down and
snorting. Obviously there had been some action while she'd been in the barn. Before the big creature could charge again, she held the pail high and shook it.

The resulting ring of grain striking the side of the bucket brought the moose's head up. He studied the bright red Jeep gleaming like a big bull's-eye, and then turned to look at the bucket she held. To help him along with his decision to choose the grain over the vehicle, she shook the pail harder and hurried toward him.

“Give that to me and stay back.” Jake seemed to take his self-assigned role of defender seriously.

Maybe it was because he thought a woman wearing big long-eared slippers might not be tough. Well, she wasn't afraid of a wild moose. She ignored Jake's advice, she was sure it was well meaning, but really, it wasn't as if she hadn't dealt with this situation before. She marched across the road and upended the bucket on the ground. The grain pellets tumbled and rushed into a molasses-scented pile in a bed of wild grasses, and the moose came running.

With her empty bucket banging against her knee, she hurried back onto the graveled lane as the moose attacked the pile as if he hadn't eaten in five weeks.

“A little theatrical for a moose, but he's mostly harmless,” she told Jake, who'd rushed to her side looking pretty angry. “He didn't take a liking to your Jeep, though. I'd move it into the garage if I were you, while he's distracted.”

“I can't believe you did that.” He stood between her and the moose. “You could have been killed. More people are killed every year in the Iditarod by moose than by all other predators combined, including wolves and mountain lions. You might treat him like a pet, but he's still dangerous and unpredictable.”

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.