SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (18 page)

The sun was warm, the air soft with moisture. Unpredictable puffs of breeze blew glittering showers from the trees, and swift-moving gray tatters of cloud chased across the pale blue sky.

Silver sheets of water covered much of the lawn, green bristles of grass breaking the surface here and there. Leaves plastered the walk and even the sides of the porch pillars. Though twigs and some larger limbs littered the ground, there was little evidence of serious damage from the storm.

Patterson and Lucy, reveling in freedom from the confinement of the house, galloped madly from bush to tree, and Hobo Joe appeared from underneath the porch, stretching and opening his mouth in a wide pink yawn. Even Quackers waddled out squawking with excitement at earthworms washed up everywhere.

Lucy found an acceptable spot and squatted almost immediately. Patterson, more contemplative by nature, sniffed the bases of several bushes, before lifting his leg.

"Pickett." Tyler pulled at the leg of her shorts. "Pickett, look! Patterson is peeing on the bush!"

"Yes, he is," she replied calmly. Children his age were extremely interested in anything having to do with excretion. "That's what boy dogs do."

" Oh." Tyler looked thoughtful, then walked over to examine the spot Patterson had favored. He studied it for a minute, then pulled down his elasticized shorts in the front while digging for his own equipment.

Jax, who had been examining the roof for signs of damage, caught sight of the boy just as his intention became clear. Protest mingled with confusion on Jax's face as Tyler balanced carefully on one foot while lifting the other.

It said much for Tyler's coordination that he was able to balance at all on one foot with both hands occupied; however, the lowered shorts restricted his movement. Nor had he reckoned that lifting his leg would cause the shorts to snap back to his waist, clipping everything in between. He gave a little yip, dancing to stay upright.

Jax winced.

Pickett lost it. Not wanting Tyler to see her laughing, she turned her face against the closest thing, which happened to be Jax's arm. Because the top of her head came just to his shoulder, he made an effective shield.

"It's not funny," hissed Jax, automatically curving a hand around her shaking shoulders. "That could have hurt."

"That's not why I'm laughing. He was trying to do like Patterson.
Like dogs."
She lifted one foot. "
You
know."

Jax looked at his son who was now the soul of nonchalance. His hard belly heaved. He carefully turned their backs to Tyler, then buried his head against her hair, pulling her tighter to muffle both their chuckles.

They broke apart just in time to dash to the porch, calling Tyler and the dogs, before the wind picked up and another rain band swept across the sound.

Hours later in the bedroom, Jax watched his son sleep. In the combined glow from the bathroom nightlight and the almost-full moon, he could see the cowlick at the right temple, so like his own. Tyler lay, arms above his head, one knee cocked as if he had flung himself to sleep.

Jax hadn't known this was how Tyler slept. Had he ever sat and watched his son sleep before? He couldn't remember. It seemed unlikely.

There was so much he didn't know. Take bedtime, for instance. Tyler might look like he had flung himself to sleep, but nothing could be farther from the truth. What on earth had made him think he could say, "It's bedtime, Tyler," and Tyler would go to bed?

"I'm not sleepy. I don't have to. Gan-gan doesn't make me." Then tears. "I want a drink of water. I want Lucy to sleep with me. I don't want to sleep with you. I want my own bed."

The book—his only guide at present that was rapidly assuming the status of
The Book
— mentioned that four-year-olds could be difficult about bedtime. It also gave specific guidelines about how much sleep a child required at each stage.

It would have been easier to allow Tyler to fall asleep wherever he was, as he had done the night before. Jax snorted wryly. The easy day
really was
yesterday. Okay. He could live with that. Tyler would get fourteen hours of sleep. And he would learn that rules were rules.

If he was honest, though, he wasn't sure if Tyler would be asleep yet if Pickett hadn't intervened with one of her directions that were orders, without ever sounding like an order.

She had produced a children's book from the store that she kept for her nieces and nephews, and agreed with Tyler that he wasn't sleepy, and didn't need to go to sleep. In fact, it was something he really shouldn't try. Best that he just get comfortable in bed so he could listen to a story
that his father would read,
and rest his eyes for a few minutes. His father would probably
have to read the book two or three times,
because he didn't know it. But Tyler did, so he could just rest his eyes.

Shivering, Pickett turned off the shower in the bath connected to the therapy room, and reached for a towel. Thanks to Jax the generator was working so that they had water, even if it was cold. A day of humidity and no air-conditioning had left her so sticky she couldn't bear to go to bed without rinsing off.

Drat! Her lotions were in the master bathroom. She could forego her nightly ritual. But wait, she didn't have to go through her bedroom where Jax and Tyler were sleeping. A quick dash through the kitchen, across the back hall, and she could nip in through the hall to the master bathroom with no one the wiser.

Quickly she slipped on her thin sherbet-green cotton gown and adjusted its tiny straps.

Pickett peeped into the hall. A wedge of light showed under the living room door. Good. Jax hadn't gone to bed yet. He was still in the living room reading. She could be in and out without making a sound.

He ought to turn off the light in the living room, Jax thought. He wasn't going to read anymore. Maybe he'd take a shower before crawling in beside Tyler.

Tyler did an amazing back-to-front flip. Sleeping with Tyler did not make for a restful night. Something else he hadn't known about his son. He had been in countries where the whole family slept in one bed, but this was the first time he had ever slept with his son. The list just kept growing.

The room was growing cooler now that the windows were open. A brisk breeze brought scents of pine trees and ocean air into the house. Tomorrow, he and Tyler would return to the beach cottage. He hoped Tyler's willingness to smile would survive the transition. It would be nice if they didn't have to leave.

It would be nice if he was sharing Pickett's bed with her.

Sometimes he saw her looking at him with the female interest he was used to, though she usually tried to hide it.

Sometimes he got inside her physical space just to watch her try to cover up her reaction.

But sometimes those changeable eyes studied him to see how he would handle the next challenge Tyler threw.

She could make him feel like he was back in BUD/S training. Knowing that every exercise was both a lesson and a test. That he was being evaluated at every moment. That he was being watched to see how he would measure up.

A nightlight burned in the master bath, so Pickett didn't turn on any lights. The door to the bedroom was open, but knowing how badly it squealed she didn't try to close it, lest she wake Tyler.

She had only intended to apply her face lotion, but hearing no sound from the bedroom, she uncapped the body lotion as well. She loved its silky feel, the way it smelled of wind and rain and green leaves.

Until the past year, Pickett had never appreciated the feminine dedication to grooming rituals, nor understood how much self-rejection her lack of attention to her own body represented. Now she reveled in the cool feel of the lotion on her skin, the soothing massage. She propped a foot on the counter in order to reach her legs. She enjoyed the feel of her calves, smooth and firm and supple under her massaging fingers.

Pulling the nightgown higher she considered her thigh.
Still too soft, but you can't fight genetics.
She stroked the lotion higher.