The SEAL's Baby. Laura Altom Marie
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fog had burned off, making for an annoyingly hot and sunny day. No doubt everyone else in town was thrilled, but sun reminded him of days spent on the beach with Patricia and all of the perfect days they’d spent planning out the rest of their perfect lives.
On the main road, again looking to the shoulders for Sam, Heath’s stomach knotted in disgust for the guy who’d left Libby on her own while carrying his child. Who did that? Here he’d have selfishly given anything for Patricia to have been with him long enough for them to have a kid, so he’d at least have something tangible beyond pictures to remember her by, yet that lucky asshole was about to have a son or daughter and didn’t even care.
Within minutes he made it to Libby’s Bug.
He veered his truck around to try giving her vehicle a jump, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. The car was an older model he’d only seen while on missions with his navy SEAL unit in developing countries, meaning it didn’t even have a gas gauge. Back under the hood he checked the fuel level the way he’d check the oil on any normal car. The stick read nearly a quarter-tank. Which meant he’d reached the end of his personal bag of tricks.
Good thing his cell got better reception on the side of the road than at his cabin.
Thirty minutes later, Hal Kramer arrived with his tow truck.
“Haven’t seen one of these in a while,” he said, backing out the driver’s side door to climb down from his truck. He sauntered over to where Heath stood, wiping sweat from his forehead with a red shop rag. While appraising the situation, he twirled the left side of his handlebar mustache. “Girl I used to date up in Portland drove one of these. Whenever she drank too much wine, I drove. My legs were so long I usually ended up turning off the engine switch with my knee.”
“Good times...” Heath said with a faint smile.
The burly town mechanic walked to the vehicle’s rear, then lifted the engine cover. “You happen to check the gas and battery?”
“Yep.” Hands in his pockets, Heath tried not to remember how frightened he’d been when Libby collapsed at his feet. He’d done his best to hide his fear from her, but inside, he’d been a wreck. Sam’s disappearing act already had Heath on edge. The reminder of how frail Patricia had been at the end finished the job of making a normally unflappable guy a nervous wreck.
“All right, old girl.” Hal crouched in front of the engine. “Let’s take a peek under your knickers....”
While his longtime friend tinkered at the rear of the car, Heath looked inside. A pottery wheel occupied the passenger seat and an assortment of suitcases and boxes had been crammed into the back. When Libby told him she was a potter, he’d honestly thought she’d been joking, but maybe not. Did that mean she’d also been telling the truth about spending two years in a tent?
Oddly enough, if he counted the total time he’d spent on missions, he’d probably slept under the stars more than her, but that was different. Given a choice between a bed and dirt, the bed would always win.
“Try starting it!” Hal called.
Heath gave the engine another try. “Nothing!”
A few curses later, Hal appeared, wiping his hands on his rag. “Thought there might be a quick fix—loose hose or something—but I’m guessing this is electrical. Let me run it into my shop and I’ll see what I can find.”
“Sounds good.” Heath would take Libby to town, where she’d be someone else’s problem—not that he’d minded helping, just that with her gone, he could focus on finding his dog. “Have any idea how long it’ll take?”
Hal shrugged. “Ten minutes. Ten days. If I need parts, depends on where they are and if the owner has the Ben Franklins to buy ’em.”
Heath released a long, slow exhale. “Yeah... What if the owner’s short on cash?”
“Is he from around here?”
“Nah. Belongs to a woman—she’s passing through. The reason I ask is she’s very pregnant, broke and must weigh less than a soaked kitten.”
Scratching his head, Hal said, “Sorry to hear it. I’ll certainly do what I can to keep costs down, but with vintage models like this I can’t make any promises.”
“I understand. I’ll bring her round a little later. You two can sort out an arrangement.”
“Sounds good.”
Heath shook his old friend’s hand, then helped him load Libby’s car. With any luck the repair would be fast and cheap, getting her back on the road to wherever she’d been going.
And if the fix wasn’t fast and proved expensive?
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated being an ass, but if Libby had to stick around, he’d just have to make sure she stayed away from him.
Chapter Two
Libby woke from a nap to the sound of someone splitting logs with an ax. Having spent many nights warmed by a campfire, she’d grown familiar with the rhythmic thwack and thump.
She’d curled into a ball on the sofa. A glance down showed she’d thoughtfully been covered by a soft, mossy-green blanket that’d even been tucked around her perpetually cold toes.
Rising and keeping the blanket around her like a shawl, she went in search of her host, assuming he was the one outside chopping.
She found him wearing no shirt and wielding an ax. His chest was broad enough to have earned its own zip code. No way was she even allowing her glance to settle long enough on his honed abs and pecs to give them a formal appraisal. Suffice it to say, he was built better than any man she’d seen outside of a movie.
Considering the cooler air and how low on the horizon the sun had dipped, she called, “Have I been asleep as long as I’m afraid I have?”
He cast a wary glance in her direction. “Yep. You snoozed right through lunch. There’s a sandwich for you in the fridge. If you’re still hungry, I can heat up some soup.”
“I’m sure a sandwich will be fine. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He brought the ax down hard on his latest log. “After you eat, I’ll run you into town. You were out cold when I got back from looking at your car, but I couldn’t fix the problem. It ended up having to be towed.”
“Oh.” Stomach knotted with dread over what the repair may cost, she forced her breathing to slow. As much as she hated the thought, was now the time to officially cry uncle by asking for help? No. When she met with her parents, it’d be on her own terms. She’d gotten herself into this mess, and she’d get herself out of it. If her father had believed her a dismal failure before, he was in for quite a shock to see her life had only grown that much more pathetic.
“The town mechanic—Hal—does great work. He’s honest and does whatever it takes to keep costs low.”
“Good. I can’t thank you enough for...everything.” If he hadn’t come along when he did, there’s no telling what may have happened. As tightly as she clung to the stubborn streak and refusing to admit further failure to her parents, she’d finally reached the point where if it came down to protecting her baby’s health, she’d have no other choice. A sobering fact she preferred dealing with later.
“Go ahead and eat your sandwich.” He reached for another log. “I’ll be done in a few.”
“O-okay...” Was he dismissing her? Though his words were polite, she couldn’t escape the feeling that his failure to make small talk or eye contact signaled he’d rather she be on her way.
Not surprising. If she were fortunate enough for this to be her home, she supposed she wouldn’t want a stranger hanging around.
Running her fingertips along the rough-hewn porch rail, she—more than anything—couldn’t