The SEAL's Valentine (Operation: Family) (5 page)

“Having fun?” his mom asked when he was looking at the gift table.

“Uh-huh! When can I open stuff?”

She laughed, which made him even happier. “Pretty soon. First, we all need to sing to you and let you blow out the candles on your cake.”

“Okay. Is Mr. Tristan here? I want him to play pirate!”

“I haven’t seen him.” She looked around. “But maybe he’ll be here soon?”

“Hope so! He’s cool!”

Cayden went back to his fort, where his friend Dominic hung upside down while eating grape Laffy Taffy. “Well? Is Coach Tristan coming?”

“Maybe.” Cayden not only told all his friends the cool SEAL would be there, but Dominic said his mom told him that Tristan was gonna help Cayden with his hitting. Cayden hoped since it was his birthday, Tristan was just waiting to tell him about it at the party.

The longer the party was, the more Cayden worried Tristan wasn’t gonna come. Everyone he knew on the whole planet was there—except for his dad and old friends back in St. Louis. Even Coach Jason and his wife and their bad little kid were in the backyard.

For a few minutes, while blowing out his candles and opening presents, Cayden forgot about his new grown-up friend, but it was weird, no matter how many great toys he got, he still felt kinda sad about not seeing Tristan.

* * *

“
Y
OU
WERE
KIND
TO
INVITE
an old geezer like me to your son’s big day.” Georgia helped herself to seconds of Cayden’s chocolate, pirate-themed cake.

“Stop,” Brynn said from the lawn chair she was embarrassingly trapped in. “You get around far better than I do. Pretty sure I’m stuck.”

In a flash, Georgia was up and had Brynn’s hands, tugging her to her feet.

“Thanks.” Laughing, Brynn was surprised by the easy camaraderie she felt with the neighbor she’d avoided for so long. Yet in the same respect, the snippets of happiness she stole like this were what stood to hurt the most should her world once again fall apart.

Georgia had already returned her focus to cake. “Kindly don’t sit again until I’m done.”

“I won’t,” Brynn promised.

“Is that Tristan?”

Was it wrong that just hearing his name caused Brynn’s heart to skip a beat? Striving for a casual tone, she asked, “Where?”

“He’s gone now, but I swear I just saw him pulling one of your old tricks and ducking behind my hedge.” With a put-out sigh, she dropped her paper cake plate back to the picnic table. “At this rate, I’ll never satisfy my sweet tooth.”

Though the party was in full swing around her, classic Beach Boys playing on the ancient stereo she’d hauled outside, and practically every soul she’d met since moving to Ruin Bayou milling about her backyard, Brynn’s gaze—her very breath—felt centered around the sight of Georgia tugging a sheepish-looking Tristan from behind her overgrown forsythia.

Chapter Five

“Ouch.” Nothing served as more of a reminder that Tristan had lost his SEAL’s edge than being yanked by his ear out from under defensive cover by a woman old enough to be his great-grandmother.

“Don’t you ‘ouch’ me, young man. I’m still miffed at you from when you stole bubble gum from our drugstore.”

“Mrs. Booth, I was eight, and not only did I return it, but I wrote you a formal apology.”

She snorted. “Kids today, think you can get away with anything. Now, why are you snooping on Brynn’s party? Weren’t you invited?”

“Sure, I was invited, I just—”

“Don’t want to get too close to Cayden because he reminds you of Jack?”

Having been raised on the ideal that if he didn’t have anything nice to say then he shouldn’t say anything at all, Tristan clamped his mouth tight. Damn this busybody town. Why hadn’t he taken leave in Miami or Vegas?

“Go ahead and be mad at me.” Georgia was back to tugging, only this time she’d grabbed hold of his arm and was pulling him toward the party. “But when you get to my age, I don’t much care who thinks what and I call things like I see ’em. Ask me, you and Brynn and Cayden would make a nice family. She’s gonna need a man around, what with her new baby on the way.”

On that nutty note, Tristan had lost all patience. “Not only am I not in the market for a new wife, I’m still not over my old one.” Their official split may have been three years ago, but for him, it hadn’t seemed real until Andrea’s unexpected wedding and sudden move. “Pretty sure Brynn feels the same.”

“Snippy, huh?” Instead of looking properly chastised, Georgia grinned. “Only proves my point.”

Thankfully, Brynn’s mouthy neighbor returned to her chair and cake.

Though he knew everyone in Brynn’s yard, Tristan felt like an outsider. He had nothing in common with these people anymore. When he’d come home with Andrea and Jack in tow, his life had been in sync with his friends’. He and Jason talked fishing or sports while their wives dissed them on everything from leaving clothes on the floor to drinking milk from the carton. Jason’s wife, Trina, had been pregnant with their son Nathan during Tristan and Andrea’s last trip to town. Trina had been so happy in her pregnancy, she glowed. It’d brought back good memories of Andrea carrying Jack.

Eyeing very pregnant Brynn, Tristan wasn’t sure what to think. It went without saying, she was off-the-charts adorable—not that her looks mattered.

When she glanced up, almost as if having felt his stare, he died even more than when Georgia had caught him behind her bushes. “Hi,” she said, sounding so much from the north.

Everyone he knew from down south said
hey.
Not that it mattered. Just a thought to further put off the embarrassment of talking to her now that he’d been busted spying on her son’s big day.

“Cayden hoped you’d come.” She ducked her gaze. “Me, too. Can I get you some cake?”

Mouth dry, he nodded. “Sounds good. And sorry about that.” He gestured toward Georgia’s yard. “Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to come. Nothing personal, you understand, just...” He stopped short of admitting how painful it was, being in the presence of boys nearly the same age as his son.

“I get it.” When she curved her slight fingers to his forearm, the warmth and comfort stemming from her simple touch felt akin to sipping his mother’s honeyed tea when battling a cold. Casting a shy smile, she shocked him by admitting, “I’ve done the same.”

While he tried and failed in coming up with a witty reply, she cut him a generous corner piece of her son’s cake. In passing the plate, their hands brushed. He wanted to ignore the faint rush of awareness—as if he were back in junior high and passing notes with the hottie sitting in front of him in English—but despite his best efforts, even after the fleeting moment passed, the sensation had not.

“Good to see you, man.” Jason delivered a light smack to his shoulder. After general small talk about high school kids having spray painted their school mascot on Polk Bayou bridge, and Trina pulling Brynn aside to discuss her potato salad recipe, Jason asked, “Vivian told me you want to privately coach Cayden. That true?”

“I s’pose.” Tristan tossed his plate and fork in a nearby trash can. He knew now he should never have made the offer. Being around Cayden might be good for the boy, but it would bring nothing but added pain for himself. “Though since his mom seems against it, I’ll probably steer clear of the whole situation.”

“Not so fast.” Jason downed the rest of his punch. “Your offer got me to thinking. Little Cayden was pretty torn up about not making the team, and Oliver Crouch’s mom called last night to tell me they’re probably moving. Since you already agreed to be my assistant coach, what do you think of going ahead and letting Cayden join his friends? Assuming you’ll get him up to speed.”

Tristan tipped his gaze to the sun, covering his face with his hands. The day he’d made that offer, Vivian had been a full-on bitch to Brynn. It hadn’t been right, and his suggestion to help had shut her up. He couldn’t have said then why he’d done it, meaning he sure as hell didn’t know now. All he did know was that he felt backed into a corner on the whole issue and didn’t like it. On his own with Brynn, when they’d stood side by side at her clothesline, and warm sun beat down on them and the smell of those fresh-washed clothes brought on sentimental longings for his more simple, younger years, he’d made that speech to her about everything being easier with a team. But after the painful call with his son, for his own self-preservation, he needed to retreat. “For the record, I never said I’d be your assistant coach.”

His old friend grinned. “Pretty sure you did.”

Tristan sighed. “Look, I need to start thinking about getting back to the base. I’m out of shape and—”

Jason whistled loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Someone mind temporarily killing the music?”

One of the older kids obliged.

“Seeing as this is Cayden’s birthday, my friend Tristan and I have cooked up a little surprise.”

“Jason...” Tristan said under his breath. “I never agreed to squat.”

“What is it, Coach? Hi, Tristan!” Cayden stood in front of them.

For Tristan, the kid’s huge grin and jumping brought on a wicked case of indigestion.

“Not sure if you knew this,” Jason said to the boy, “but your dad and I were good friends. He was the greatest ball player to ever come out of this town—heck, the whole state. Because of that, I’m betting somewhere inside you is just as great a hitter. You only need a little extra practice to coax him out.”

Cayden cocked his head. “What’s that mean?”

His mom stood behind him, her hands on his slight shoulders. “Jason...”

“All that means,” the coach said, “is that Tristan is going to teach you a few things about the game, and I’m inviting you to play with the Mud Bugs.”

“But I wasn’t good enough to make the team.”

Ruffling his hair, Jason said, “When we had tryouts, I could tell you were having an off day. With Tristan’s help, in a couple weeks, you’ll be hitting with the best of us. Right, guys?”

Team members and friends had gathered around the birthday boy. Taking Jason’s lead, they all encouraged him and welcomed him to the team.

Only for Tristan to hear, Brynn said, “As much as I appreciate what you and Jason are doing, my son doesn’t need charity. What if after all this hoopla, he still isn’t good enough to keep up with the rest of the team? How’s his heart going to bear once again losing, when he’s already lost so much?”

“Can’t tell you,” Tristan admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t like Brynn’s assumption that she or her son would come out losers in any situation. Which was no doubt why he surprised even himself by admitting, “But if this were my son? I’d at least want to take the chance. What if Cayden does improve? What if he not only gets to spend the summer hanging out with his friends, but feels more connected with his dad through their shared love of the game?”

Turning introspective, she averted her gaze. “I didn’t know you had a son. And I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Neither had he. But it was true.

As much as Tristan hated the thought of another man raising his son, he also knew in his heart Peter was doing right by Jack. Andrea and Tristan would always have their issues, but in large part due to Peter, their negativity had had little impact on their son.

What would Mack think about Tristan helping Cayden?

Back in school, Mack, Jason and Tristan had been tight. After high school, they’d gone their separate ways—no one more so than the pro ballplayer, but they’d all been raised on the core belief that your friends were friends for life. If Mack or Jason had needed him, Tristan would always be there. So why, when Mack had been in way over his head, hadn’t he reached for friends’ helping hands?

Tristan found himself needing to ask, “Did Mack ever show signs of being in trouble?”

She shook her head. “The day of his shooting, we were at the kitchen bar, deciding when to tell Cayden he’d be getting a baby brother or sister. Our life together was so blessed—like living in a wonderful dream—that when he was gone, part of me had a hard time even comprehending Mack died.”

Music once again played, and without much else going on for a warm Saturday twilight, while their children darted amongst Spanish moss and lightning bugs, adults shared stories and laughs around dancing citronella candles.

“This party,” she continued, “is the most connected I’ve felt to our old life in a while. This is how things used to be. We were always surrounded by friends. But once the scandal broke, so did those bonds. Cayden and I were treated like pariahs for things we hadn’t even known about, let alone participated in. That’s why I’ve been so hesitant about making new friends here. Who’s to say they won’t all leave, as well?”

Tristan felt compelled to lighten the mood. “Well, first, as you could probably tell, us Louisianans love nothing more than eating—especially when the food’s free.”

She cracked a smile. “I have noticed every event down here is accompanied by a meal.”

He nodded. “And second, we have a way of attaching and sticking around—kind of like a tick, only with far better manners and no chance of fever.”

Laughing, she said, “Not sure if that makes me feel much better, but thanks for trying.”

“Anytime.” Her laugh was contagious and suddenly all he wanted to do was shake off the gloom that’d settled over him ever since Andrea and Jack’s move. For the first time in he couldn’t remember when, he was tired of moping and wanted to enjoy the beautiful night with an equally beautiful woman.

* * *

T
UCKING
THE
S
ARAN
W
RAP
INTO
the drawer beside the stove, Brynn said, “This day—and night—turned out different than I’d planned.”

“It was a really great party. Dom fell asleep before I could get his shoes off.”

Well past midnight, Cayden and Dominic had crashed on the living-room sleeper sofa. Vivian and Sean helped put any food that might spoil in the fridge. The rest, Brynn told them she’d tackle in the morning.

“Thanks again for your help.” Brynn crushed her friend in a hug. Vivian had her catty moments, but all the work she’d done helping Brynn with Cayden’s special day more than made up for her most recent nasty remarks.

“My pleasure.” Vivian politely covered her yawn, then took her purse from the counter. “You know who else seemed to have an especially good time once the zydeco started playing?”

“Who?” Sean asked. Up to this point, he’d done as little work as possible, doing his part by finishing off the remains of mostly eaten bowls and platters. Now he’d moved on to bags of chips.

“Not that I was talking to you,” Vivian said, “but since you’re nosing into our business, I mean Tristan.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Sean waved his latest bag of Doritos. “How is it not my business?”

Back to her usual self, Vivian rolled her eyes. “Because I’m talking to Brynn. Last thing I want is for you and your gossipy friends to start discussing our business. When you overheard me and—”

“Okay, whoa...” Brynn held up her hands. “Last thing I want is to get in the middle of a family squabble.”

“You’re not,” Vivian assured. “I just thought it notable that Tristan not only danced with you, but honest-to-goodness laughed. You two have something going on I don’t know about?”

“Of course not.” Brynn grabbed the dishrag and gave the counter a good wipe. “We’re barely even friends.”

“But he built Cayden’s fort?”

Brynn nodded.

“He also mowed your lawn. And let’s not forget that daring swamp rescue.”

“Gotta admit,” Sean said between bites, “that had to be pretty exciting, Brynn. You and Cayden getting saved by a SEAL? I was a couple years behind Tristan and his crew in high school, but they seemed like good guys.”

Brynn put away air-dried pots and pans. “For the record, Jason found Cayden. And anyway, I’m sure we’d have eventually stumbled our way out.”

Sean shook his head. “Been a lot of folks vanish in that swamp over the years.”

“Oh, stop.” Vivian swatted him with a towel. “All I’m saying is it’s fairly obvious you two share chemistry. What would it hurt for you to, say...explore?”

“What would it hurt?” Brynn pointed at her bulging belly and laughed. What she didn’t do was confess she’d not only felt that chemistry, but used every trick in her womanly arsenal to fight it.

* * *

S
UNDAY
AFTERNOON
, T
RISTAN
struggled with his decision to help Cayden with his hitting not so much because the kid reminded him of Jack, but because of a whole new batch of troubles revolving around Cayden’s mom.

While the boy gathered the dozen brightly painted balls that’d scattered over the field, Tristan couldn’t stop himself from stealing a quick glance into the stands. Pretty as you please, there sat Brynn, holding an umbrella to shade her from the sun in one hand and a fan in her other. She’d crammed her mess of red curls into a ponytail and strays popped out at all angles. Hell, she looked like a ginger-toned, half-blown dandelion. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine her in the role of a pro-ballplayer’s polished wife. But then by her own admission, things for her and Cayden had changed an awful lot since then.