SEAL's Baby (Navy SEAL Secret Baby Romance) (52 page)

He chuckled. “Really. I wouldn’t lie.”

I remembered all of the times he told me
bad news and knew he didn’t have a big problem with that, so he had to be
telling it to me straight. “That’s awesome. Thank you both.”

“You did the hard work,” Dr. Grant said
after they both shook my hand. “I still want to follow up with you every three
months for the next year, though, okay? Don’t go MIA on me with your newfound
tumor-less brain.”

I laughed. “You give me the appointment
Doc, and I’ll be here.” I thanked them again and as we were leaving the office he
said,

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to therapy?”

“Um, no, I finished that right before my
radiation.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You look great,
don’t get me wrong, but you’re still dragging that foot a little.”

I looked down at it to keep from looking
him in the eyes and said, “I get lazy sometimes when I’m tired, but most of the
time, it’s okay. Thanks, Doc.” I pulled Callie out behind me before he could
say anything else. When we got into the lobby she hugged me.

“I’m so happy for you!” she said. “But
what he said about therapy…”

“The therapist signed off on it,” I said,
letting it go at that. “I’m happy for me, too. How about we go out somewhere
really nice tonight and celebrate?”

“I’m always up for somewhere really nice,”
she said with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

“What about The French Room?”

Her pretty eyes went wide. “Really?” she
looked at the time on her phone. “Could you get a reservation this late?”

The French Room was a high end restaurant
that’s actually been on almost every show about food on television and every
magazine, as well. It’s not a place I go often, but I actually helped with
designs on some of the renovations a few years back. The place was built in
1912 and they wanted the renovations to fit with the old style architecture. I
love old buildings and it’s kind of my specialty. The manager and I are tight
and I happen to know he sets aside a couple of tables on Friday and Saturday
nights for what he calls his “special” guests.

“I think I can swing it,” I told her as we
got into her car. Driving was going to be my next step. I still worried a
little about how heavy my foot got sometimes.

“I’ve never been there! I’m so excited,”
she squealed. Before she started up the car, she leaned over and covered my
mouth with hers. I let my tongue slide up against hers and brought my hand up
and cupped one of her breasts. I ran my thumb back and forth across the hard
nipple as we kissed. When she pulled back, she was panting. “If you don’t stop
that, I’ll never make it home in time to get ready for tonight.”

I grinned. “We could always do The French
Room tomorrow…”

“No way, mister! We’ll do THAT
afterwards.” I rolled my eyes, but smiled. She very enthusiastically
participated in sex and although I’d never felt as overwhelmingly attracted to
her in bed as I did Amber, it was still good…and Callie didn’t have an
ex-boyfriend she wanted instead of me.

*******

Callie picked me back up at eight that
evening. I’d gotten us a reservation for eight-thirty. I opened the door and
nearly choked, she looked so damned fine. “Wow!”

“You like?” She twirled around. She was
wearing a dress that came to just above her ankles. It was made out of sheer
black lace and slit all the way up the front to her waist. Underneath it was
some kind of black body suit that covered all of the important things, but
shit, it had my imagination working overtime. She had on a pair of black cowboy
boots with it and her long hair was twisted into a braid on the side of her
head. It was lying against her right breast and I couldn’t help but think how
lucky it was to be there.

“Like doesn’t quite cover it. I’m not
really hungry…”

She giggled. “Get your coat handsome.
Later, remember.”

I sighed and slipped on my jacket.
“Speaking of coats, it’s the middle of November and you’re walking around in
a…very nice handkerchief…”

She laughed. “I have a coat in the car. I
wanted to show off.”

“That you did,” I said as I switched off
the light. My mouth was dry and I was probably going to have to ask her to
leave the coat on all night or I wouldn’t be able to walk for the wood in the
way.

She let me rest my hand on the upper part
of her silky thigh on the way. I tried moving it up a few times, but got
smacked for my troubles. I couldn’t wait for this dinner to be over. She pulled
up in front of the hotel, and I saw the valet checking her out as she slipped
into her coat. I grinned at him and slipped him a twenty as I slid my arm
around her and walked her away. Poor guy.

The manager Jean Paul greeted us warmly,
and I introduced Callie to him. “So, what are we celebrating?” he asked.

Jean Paul didn’t know about my illness, I
worked with him before it happened. I just said, “A clean bill of health after
a really big scare.”

He looked from me to Callie trying to
decide which one of us it was and then as he decided it didn’t matter, he
showed us to our table and brought over a bottle of wine. “This is one of my
personal favorites,” he said. “Please make a toast to the continued good health
of two beautiful young people…for me.”

“Thank you.”

After he left, the waiter opened and
poured our wine, and when he was gone Callie said, “This place is so
beautiful!”

“Yeah, it is.” The tables were pretty
close together, but something about the way they are arranged and the soft
music playing overhead made it seem like we were the only ones there. I couldn’t
imagine wanting to look at anyone else anyway, with Callie sitting across from
me and looking as hot as she did tonight.

The waiter came back and Callie ordered
the Salmon and I got the roasted duck. My dad used to hunt a lot when I was a
kid and I loved duck season. Sarah was always a good cook, although I’m sure
it’ll taste a little different made by an award-winning chef.

“So what did you help them design?” Callie
asked me.

“They had some problems with the structure
of the roof. I helped them re-design it so they could keep the authenticity of
the look and make it sound at the same time.”

She smiled. “You’re so smart.”

“Right and you’re the one in law school.”

“Not quite, but soon. I can’t wait to be a
lawyer. I was looking at some literature for the Innocence Project the other
day. I’m thinking about volunteering some of my time.”

“That’s the organization that helps people
who were convicted wrongly, right?”

“Yep. My dad worked with them Pro-Bono for
a while. He said it was really satisfying.”

“Isn’t everyone in prison innocent,
though?” I asked her with a smile.

“Some of them really are smarty pants.”

“So, how do they decide which cases to
take?”

“They get letters or calls from thousands
of people. They screen them and find out if there’s any new evidence, like DNA
or something. They go talk to the inmate and each one of the attorneys brings
the ones they want to take on to the table. They decide from there depending on
manpower and urgency of the case, which ones to take.”

“So when school is all said and done, I’m
guessing you want to be a defense attorney?”

“Yeah, for sure. Prosecutors are
politicians, in my opinion. They work for the government and with the police
and their goal is to incarcerate. I think we incarcerate too much in this
country.” I didn’t exactly agree with her, but it was too soon in our
relationship to get political, so I just nodded.

The waiter came then with our soup and as
he sat it down in front of me I leaned back – and nearly fell out of my fucking
seat. Amber had just walked in on the arm of a cowboy I could only guess was
Dylan. My chest suddenly felt tight and I was having a hard time catching my
breath. I thought Callie looked hot tonight, but there was that thing again –
that electricity that reached out and grabbed me by the throat each time Amber
and I were in the same room.

“Do you know them?” I looked at Callie and
she’d turned to look in their direction.

“Um…yeah, kind of. She used to be my
therapist.”

“Oh, she’s really pretty. Is that her
husband?” The hostess led them to a table kind of across and diagonal from us.
Amber didn’t seem to notice me and she was sitting facing away from us. That
was a good thing, except that I had to see the moony-eyed look that Dylan was
giving her.

“Her boyfriend, I think. How’s your soup?”
Callie gave me a funny look and I wondered what my face looked like. Sarah used
to tell me when we were kids I shouldn’t ever try to lie because the truth
always showed on my face. I wondered if the truth that even after all of these
months I’d cut off my right arm to touch her again showed on my face.

“Kyle?”

“Mm hmm?” I took a sip of my soup. It was
hot, and I didn’t even taste it going down.

“Why did you stop going to therapy? I
mean, I heard the doctor ask you about it today and I was just wondering…”

“Just like I told him, I was doing so much
better I didn’t think I needed it anymore. Like I said, she signed off on it
anyways.”

“Oh…did you want to go say hello to her?”

I want to go do more than say hello. I
smiled at Callie. “No, I want to stay right here and enjoy my evening with
you.” Her face brightened. I took a deep breath and a drink of my wine. It was
going to be a long night.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

AMBER

Dylan asked the waiter for a bottle of
champagne and a glass of water. I hadn’t drunk in front of him since he got out
of rehab, but he insisted he wanted me to have a glass of champagne. The waiter
asked, “What are we celebrating tonight?”

Dylan smiled. “Our engagement,” he said.
“It took me three weeks to get in here, though.” The waiter smiled. Three weeks
was fast for this place from what I’d heard.

“And, our families,” I added. Dylan had
done what he said he would for me. He’d driven out to the ranch and had spoken
to my father. My mother told me later on that when she saw them go into the
barn, she didn’t think they would both come out standing. She said they were in
there for over an hour, but when they came out, they were shaking hands. All
Dylan would tell me was that he assured my father he loved me and would never
hurt me again. Daddy told me later that all he wanted was for me to be happy,
so if Dylan was it, he’d accept that. I’ve been walking around on cloud nine
thinking about getting married by the lake. We’d decided on March so far, but
not an exact date.

The waiter went to get the champagne, and
Dylan reached across the table and took my hand. “I have one more surprise,” he
told me.

“What’s that?”

“I got a call from Tuck Henry, do you
remember him?”

I made a face. “The old pervert? How could
I forget?” Tuck Henry is a retired rodeo clown that worked with Dylan’s father
for years. One night at an after party when I used to travel to some of the
rodeos with Dylan, the old man cornered me and put his nasty hands in places
they never should have gone. Dylan was, of course, too drunk to defend me. I’d
kneed the old guy in the crotch and caused a big scene. Dylan and I had a big
fight afterwards that culminated in him telling me I was dressed like a slut
and me calling him a worthless pussy. It’s one of those memories I’d gladly
forgotten until now.

He grinned at me. “He is an old pervert,
but he also has a lot of friends in the PRCA. He offered me a job, baby.”

“Doing what?”

“Judging. I’d have to attend a few
seminars first before the next season starts, but the pay is good and it’ll be
a legitimate job.”

I wanted to be happy for him, I really
did, but my mind was swirling with a thousand different scenarios. “You’ll have
to travel?”

He waited for the waiter. He brought the
champagne and popped it open. He poured us each a glass and then he sat a glass
of water in front of us both as well. Dylan thanked him and he left. Then he
picked up his flute and said, “To us.”

“You’re going to drink that?”

He rolled his eyes. “One glass, Amber. It
won’t kill me. There’s hardly any alcohol in it, anyways.”

I didn’t want to argue with him. I picked
up my glass and said, “To us.” We clicked them together and drank. As Dylan
guzzled his, I felt a little trickle of worry crawl up my spine. “Now, back to
the job. You would have to travel?”

“Well, yeah, of course. But you could come
with me.”

“Dylan, I have a job. I have a clinic to
run. I don’t want to live on the road-”

“Okay, don’t get upset on me, okay? We’re
just talking.” He poured both of us another glass of champagne. Again, I let it
go as I watched him drink his. “The season is nine months long. I wouldn’t have
to be at every event, so I could be home more than I am on the road. I want to
do something to make you proud of me, Amber. You were right when you said I
needed a job. This is something I know.”