THE RE-ENLISTED GROOM Page 8

  "I like a man who can admit defeat before the battle even starts." She propped her head in her palm and her elbow on the back of the sofa.

  Trying to stay awake, Kyle judged. She was still in her work clothes, smelling like leather and sweat and a gust of fresh air.

  "Maybe you need to drag race or something."

  He scoffed, sipping his coffee and noticing her droopy eyelids. "Nah, just sleep." He was quiet for a moment, staring off into space before he said, "Too old for risks like that."

  When she didn't come back with a sharp retort, Kyle glanced to the side. She was out cold, her face on her arm, and she barely stirred when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to her room. Laying her in the center, he unlaced her boots, slipping them off before he tucked her feet under the spread. She sighed and squished the pillow under her cheek, but didn't waken. Kyle squatted, gazing at her face.

  All afternoon, he'd picked apart each moment, all they'd said to each other in the past twenty-four hours. And then Kyle had rehashed youthful memories with the seasoned eye of a thirty-year-old man who'd seen too many of his pals die in Iraq, who'd felt the pain of loneliness so deep it choked, and not a passion-struck marine who was living for the moment. His old perspective had hidden the fact that she had tried to postpone their wedding, and he recognized that he'd been more afraid of being alone than of losing her. Yes, he was reckless, Kyle admitted easily and mentally cringed at some of the risks he used to take. And she was right about his spending money as if it was never ending. Hell, he'd never had much before enlisting, and the only reason he wasn't dead broke now was because his pay went into the bank while he was in Saudi, where he hadn't needed it. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the carpet. If he had loved her so much, why hadn't he come after her? But lasting love was something Kyle had never known. Not even with his own parents. With the exception of his big brother, everyone he'd ever loved had walked out on him.

  The phone rang, and he snatched it off the cradle before the chime finished. "What?"

  "Is this—is this the Wind Dancer?" came in a tiny voice.

  "Yes." Kyle sank to the floor. He knew whom he was talking to without introductions.

  "Where's my mom?" The panic in the child's voice drove a lethal dart into Kyle's chest.

  "Right here," he assured. "Just a sec."

  He covered the receiver and gave Maxie a shake. She blinked blearily.

  He pointed to the phone. "Your daughter."

  She smiled sleepily, reaching. "Thanks." She tucked the phone close. "Hi, sweetie. How was your day?"

  Kyle heard Maxie's half of the conversation, and he couldn't help noticing she perked up a bit. Then suddenly her gaze clashed with his.

  "He's big and tall with dark hair and eyes."

  Kyle flushed a little, then added in a stage whisper, "You didn't mention an excellent pilot and easy on the eyes." He wiggled his brows.

  She rolled her eyes, covering the phone briefly to say, "Excellent pilot? After that stunt today … aren't you stretching it a bit?" Then into the phone, she said, "Yes, you'll get to meet him in the morning if he's around."

  Kyle stood, staring down at Maxie, and she held his gaze as she shifted to her back and spoke to her daughter. "I love you, too, princess. See you in the morning."

  Kyle experienced a flash of déjà vu. Maxie in his bed, naked, her hair mussed like it was now, the sheet baring her breasts teasingly while he tried getting dressed for work. And what he did seconds later … crawling back into bed, making wild love to her and getting reprimanded for being late.

  She held the phone to her chest. "She's eaten way too much cotton candy," she said, then leaned out to replace it in the cradle. She tossed back the spread and sat up. Kyle remained close, and Maxie rubbed her hands over her face.

  "It's late. I'll clean up. Go back to sleep, Max."

  Max. He was the only one who called her that now.

  "I reek."

  "Not that I could tell."

  She lowered her hands and smiled wanely. He shifted his weight nervously, as if about to do or say something monumental, then turned away.

  She frowned at his back. "Thanks for cooking, Kyle."

  "No sweat."

  He was already out the door, but Kyle kept hearing that tiny voice ask over and over, Where's my mom?

  It sounded too familiar. Like him, when his mother had walked out.

  Just after lunch the following day, Kyle stepped out of the kitchen, then immediately lurched back as a redheaded torpedo shot past him.

  "Mom! Mom, I'm home!" She dumped a backpack, pillow and her jacket on the floor.

  Maxie flew around the corner, scooping up the little girl and hugging her tightly. She rained wet, smacky kisses over her face, and the little girl repaid in kind, cupping her mother's cheeks in her tiny hands and laying a noisy one on her.

  "Miss me?" Maxie said, brushing Mimi's hair from her face.

  "Yup." She nodded vigorously, braids bouncing.

  "Love me?"

  "Forever!" Mimi squealed, locking her arms around her mother's neck and squeezing.

  Kyle leaned against the wall, more for support than to relax. The look on Maxie's face tore through him. Pure, unconditional love.

  A mom.

  The resemblance in the pair was unmistakable. Red hair, green eyes, petite features.

  Maxie set Mimi to her feet with a dramatic groan. "Good grief, you're getting heavy!"

  "I ate a lot."

  "I'll bet," she said, and bent to kiss the top of her red head. She met Kyle's gaze across the foyer. Panic and worry sped through her. What was he thinking? Did he see himself in Mimi? Did he notice she had his mouth, that she smirked just like him?

  She didn't have long to think about it when a horn sounded. Maxie strode to the door and waved goodbye to Gina.

  Kyle heard the car leave, but his gaze was on the child. Maxie's daughter. Maxie's flesh and blood was a bundle of energy with red hair in braids, one cockeyed, the ribbons dirty and drooping. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and vivid green eyes that caught him in the gut like a hammer.

  She marched up to him, planted her hands on her skinny hips and craned her neck to gaze into his eyes. "Who are you?"

  "Mimi Anne! That's rude," her mother scolded as she closed the front door. "You're supposed to introduce yourself first."

  Mimi blushed, looked at the toes of her cowboy boots and muttered, "Yes, Momma." She met his gaze. "Hullo. I'm Mimi Parrish." She thrust out her hand.

  Kyle grasped her tiny fingers and shook. "A pleasure, Miss Parrish. I'm Kyle Hayden."

  Something flickered in the little girl's eyes just then. "Pleased to meet you, sir." She clasped her hands in front of her and glanced at her mother. "You were right, Mom, he is big."

  Maxie smiled, fighting the tears threatening to surface. How many times had she imagined this moment and how many times had she wished it would never come?

  Kyle squatted. "This better?"

  She looked him over. "Nah. You're still big."

  "Do I scare you?" He'd always thought he did that to kids.

  "Nah. Elvis is bigger than you, and I'm not afraid of him."

  Kyle glanced at Maxie, his brow tightening at the odd glow in her eyes. "Elvis?"

  "The horse, silly," Mimi said, and Kyle realized that the little girl was ticked that he hadn't asked her directly.

  "Oh, beg your pardon, ma'am."

  Mimi grinned, showing a missing tooth, and Kyle smiled back. A heartbreaker, he thought, tagging on her braid.

  Maxie thought her composure would shatter any second. To see them together was enough to make her knees weak. "Want to ride, Meem?" She had to get out of here.

  "All right! Alone?"

  "No way, Jose. With me." She grabbed her jacket before gathering up Mimi's discards, then tossed her daughter her coat and a look that said not to leave her staff lying in the hall.

  With her hand in her mother's, Mimi was at the door when sh
e paused and glanced back at Kyle. "Aren't you coming?"

  Briefly he glanced up at Maxie as she donned her cowboy hat, trying to read her expression. He couldn't. "Maybe later, short stack."

  She giggled, and something broke open inside Kyle's chest.

  Mimi looked up at her mother. "But if Kyle rides one, that's one you don't have to exercise later, Mom."

  The child's logic was frightening, Kyle thought, straightening.

  "Sure," Maxie said, not ready to argue about why she didn't want Kyle along just now. She met his gaze. "I'll saddle the mounts. Bring the hand radio—it's on the desk," she told him. "In case the service needs you."

  Kyle nodded and the pair left the house. Standing in the doorway, he watched them go, watched Maxie pause to zip Mimi's jacket and adjust her miniature cowboy hat, then take her hand. Together they ran to the barn, laughing. He couldn't help but notice how alive she was around her daughter, how different than the past two days. The reserve melted, the aloofness vaporizing the instant Mimi ran through the door. It was as if Maxie had been waiting impatiently to unleash the love she hid from him. He'd never seen love like that, and it made him want it.

  A half hour later, they were racing across the sun-drenched land, Mimi shouting for her mother to go faster.

  Kyle could barely catch his breath. Not from the pace, but from watching Max and Mimi. The little girl was tucked protectively against her mother, holding on to the pommel, but Maxie was nearly standing in the stirrups. Kyle rode abreast of her, and she glanced to the side, smiling unabashedly. Then she focused on the post that was their marker. Kyle dug his heels in and the horse lurched, but Maxie was already overtaking the post. He rounded it, but knew it was useless. She was a better rider than he could ever hope to be.

  She was walking the horse, gasping for air when he finally rode up.

  "We win!" Mimi whooped, socking the air like a prizefighter.

  Max laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mimi, be a gracious winner."

  "Aw, let her have the win, Max. You guys deserve it. Man, you're fast," he said.

  "Practice." She shrugged. Maxie asked her daughter about her weekend, and the child chattered incessantly as they cooled down the mounts. She was still going strong when they rode into the barn and dismounted.

  Kyle groaned, stretching his spine and working the tightness from his thigh. One too many bungee jumps, he thought

  "Your butt hurt?"

  Maxie sputtered, staring down at her daughter as she removed a saddle.

  "Yeah, it does," Kyle admitted, smiling. "Does yours?"

  "Nah—"

  "Mimi—"

  "I mean, no sir. I'm used to it." Mimi grabbed a pail and took off to fill it with water. Kyle watched her, then hefted the second saddle and tossed it over the stall wall.

  "She's cute, Max."

  "Thanks. I like her."

  Kyle chuckled, grabbing a rag and wiping down the horse. "Do all kids talk like that?"

  Maxie scoffed softly. "You mean constantly?"

  "No, so … adult."

  Max shrugged, leading the horse into the stall. She didn't want Kyle to get any ideas about Mimi's age, even though Mimi was little for six. That he'd assumed, through lack of information, that her ex-husband was Mimi's father, was a safety net she needed. He would be gone soon, and she needed to keep Mimi's life normal.

  "I haven't been around kids," he was saying, and she heard actual fear in his voice. It more than surprised her.

  "You're doing okay. Just don't talk down to her. She's smart and hates being patronized."

  He blinked. "Does she even know what it means?"

  "Not literally, but verbally she can recognize it. And she has a temper."

  "Like mother like daughter, huh?"

  "I don't have a temper!"

  He arched a brow and she wilted, smiling and shaking her head.

  Pail in two hands, Mimi trotted up, splashing water on her boots. "Got the grub, Mom."

  Kyle grinned, his hands on his hips. "Need help, short stack?"

  "Na—no, thanks, it's my job." She said that with such pride, he thought.

  Then, splashing more water, she hauled the pail to the trough inside the stall and poured, her little tongue sticking farther out the more she tipped the pail. Kyle folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the entrance, watching mother and daughter work. Mimi scooped feed into the wood box and kept judging the level, asking her mom's opinion. Maxie answered while cleaning the horse's hooves with practiced ease. It didn't bother him that they completely ignored him. It was a scene he couldn't recall witnessing before. Parent and child—friends.

  Inside, he was a little jealous.

  * * *

  Six

  « ^ »

  The next morning, Kyle woke to the loudest racket he'd ever experienced since living in a barracks. Maxie.

  At six in the morning. She was singing at the top of her lungs.

  The stereo blared, the scent of frying bacon wafted through the house and Mimi was telling her mom to go away. At the top of her lungs.

  He'd barely had his jeans zipped when he burst into the hall. Maxie was there, outside one of the rooms, a lime green water gun in her hands like a marine ready for assault, her foot tapping and behind swaying to the country music.

  She didn't see him. And she looked disgustingly chipper for this hour.

  At the end of the chorus, she fired into the room, and Mimi's high-pitched squeal punctured the air. "Up, girlie, this is call number three."

  "Okay, Mom, okay! I'm gettin' up," Mimi grumbled, and Kyle grinned. Maxie glanced to the side and blinked, then shrugged, sheepish.

  "She's hard to get up in the morning."

  "I would have never guessed." Kyle walked toward her, keeping just out of sight from a little girl who was likely getting dressed and didn't need a stranger seeing her.

  He was wrong. Suddenly a stream of water shot out of the room and hit Maxie in the face. She sputtered, then returned fire, backing away as Mimi advanced out of the room, frilly pink nightgown and bare feet flying after her mother.

  "I'm gonna murtelize you, Mom!"

  "Oh, yeah! Says who?" Maxie shouted, and hosed her daughter.

  Mimi shrieked, returned fire and got soaked again by her loving mother.

  Kyle simply stayed out of the battle and watched them, a greediness to be a part of it working under his skin.

  Then Mimi saw him and doused him with ice-cold water square in the chest.

  Maxie gasped.

  Mimi let out a soft "Oops" and reddened.

  And Kyle threw his hands up in surrender. "You're not supposed to shoot an unarmed man," he told her.

  "We have an extra gun," Mimi offered, grinning, water dripping from her nose.

  "You wouldn't last a minute, short stack. I was a marine."

  She blinked, awed. "Really?"

  "I call for a cease-fire," her mom interrupted, giving Kyle a "don't tempt her" look. "And you, little lady, are going to be late for school. Breakfast will be on the table in fifteen minutes."

  Mimi made a face, then glanced at Kyle. She put the water gun to her shoulder like a marine before she spun on her heels and marched back to her bedroom. Just before she slipped around the doorjamb, she turned and shot her mom between the eyes, then vanished.

  Kyle roared with laughter as Mimi escaped a counterattack. "She'd make a great recon," he said, still chuckling.

  Maxie flung water off her face and at him. "Don't give her ideas." She walked to the kitchen and stored the gun under the sink before snatching up a towel to wipe her face.

  "Is it like that every morning?"

  "Only after the weekend. She loves to sleep."

  "And you like waking her."

  She glanced over her shoulder, smiling hugely, and Kyle felt the warmth of it down to his toes. "It's a power thing. Breakfast is almost ready … though—" Briefly her gaze fell on the tiny rivers of water winding down the contours of his stomach. Nice. "You mi
ght want to go dry off first." Kyle arched a brow, giving her a long velvety look that made her insides jingle before he headed back to his room.

  After a shave and a quick shower, he was presentable enough and when he returned to the kitchen, Mimi was chomping into her breakfast to the beat of the music. And Maxie … well, Maxie's sweet behind was swaying back and forth, her snug jeans shaping her bottom, and he wondered at his fascination with that part of her anatomy. She flipped bacon and pancakes, poured juice into a glass, all the while singing off-key and dancing. How could anyone who worked so hard be this cheerful in the morning? And then he knew. Her daughter.

  If Max was a grouch, then her daughter would be, too. Kyle couldn't remember his mom ever smiling in the morning and never dancing. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time someone went out of the way to cook for him, for that matter.

  This was the old Maxie. This was the side of her he hadn't seen since he'd arrived. The difference stunned him.

  Maxie cast a side glance at the clock. "Kyle! Breakfast!" she shouted.

  "Gee, Max—"

  She spun around, shocked.

  "Crank it up another notch, they didn't hear you in California."

  Mimi giggled, and Kyle slanted her a quick wink.

  Maxie made a face and gestured with the spatula to the vacant chair. "Sit, eat."

  He sat, leaning toward Mimi as he said in a stage whisper, "Is she always this bossy?"

  "Always," Mimi said, dramatically rolling her eyes.

  She did that just like her mom, he thought, smiling.

  Maxie plopped a huge plate in front of him.

  He looked down, then up at her. "Third Battalion's coming for breakfast, right?"

  "Ha-ha," she muttered dryly. "I've seen you pack away twice that much."

  "Yeah, but I was twenty-three and trying to impress you."

  They exchanged a quick smile. "Were all those wild stunts to impress me, too?"

  His gaze slipped over her, quick and thorough, and Maxie felt a warm current follow the path. "Which stunts exactly? Bungee jumping or—" his dark eyes smoldered "—the waterfall in Encinada?"

  Maxie inhaled, her cheeks blooming with color at the memory of the two of them—losing all inhibition and making wicked love under a Mexican fall, in broad daylight