Page 22 of Shielding his Legacy (Shattered SEALs #7)

Gavin strode outside, the icy air biting his cheeks and his breath clouding in front of his face.

The crunch of his boots on the packed snow filled the stillness as he opened the truck’s tailgate.

Only one thing was more important than building a fire and getting that cabin warm—protecting its occupants.

Reaching into the bed of the truck, he grabbed his weapons case, his muscles straining against its weight.

The wind kicked up, carrying the faint scent of damp, frosty forest. He paused, scanning the tree line, the instinct to protect bristling under his skin like an itch. Nothing moved in his field of vision, but he was unsettled after the ambush at his house, and didn’t trust the calm.

He carried the case inside.

The bathroom door was closing behind Eva just as he entered, and he was grateful for the privacy as he dropped the weapons case and opened it, revealing a small arsenal.

Picking up a nine-millimeter handgun and holster, he fixed the latter at his waist and settled the weapon at his hip before heading back out for firewood.

The whop-whop-whop of a helicopter’s blades could be heard in the distance, and a wave a relief came at the thought of their newly fortified defenses.

Several cords of wood were stacked beneath a metal-roofed rack.

A short-handled sledgehammer hung from a makeshift holder on the wooden roof overhang, and he took it down, setting a log in a wrought iron log splitter form and pounding it so that it splintered into several pieces of useful kindling.

He repeated this until he had enough to start a roaring fire, then loaded up his arms.

There was something primal and satisfying about gathering split logs to warm his new family. He frowned. He both loved that word and feared it, wanted to hold it close to him and protect it from scrutiny.

That’s exactly what they were—his family, Eva and Abby—and the permanence that came with such a label both shored him up and made him uneasy. He’d never been one to shirk responsibility, but he’d certainly avoided entanglements.

He’d be lying if he said that hadn’t been deliberate, but he found himself unable to remember his rationale for feeling that way.

Carefully, he opened the cabin door without losing his grip on the logs and walked back inside. He stomped his snow-covered boots on the mat. Eva was now on the bed, likely feeding the baby, her head propped up on one arm and a quilt tucked around them. “Hey,” he said.

She gave him a warm smile, gutting him on the spot. “Hey, yourself.”

He felt the urge to go to her, to roll her onto her back beneath that quilt and kiss those sweet, soft lips with his own.

He cleared his throat, forcing the mental image from his mind before his eager body mistook his fantasy for a green light.

Crossing to the hearth, he put the wood down, unhooked the glass and metal door to the firebox, and stacked the logs inside.

“Why does that fireplace have a door?” she asked. “I’ve seen them before, but I don’t get it. You can’t see the fire very much.”

“It’s a woodburning stove. It has a fan built in over a heavy metal box, and it’s designed to throw off a lot of heat, whereas a fireplace lets a lot more of it escape up the chimney.

An open fireplace might be prettier, but you can leave this one burning twenty-four hours a day and actually get a warm night’s sleep.

” He stood, turning to face her. “Trust me, you’ll be glad we have this tonight. ”

His mention of the night ahead mixed with the soft, contented look she was giving him, and his abdomen clenched with his need for this woman.

For the moment, they were safe in a secluded cabin tucked away from the world.

She wanted him, he wanted her. Only HERO Force’s arrival stood to delay their coming together, and he was grateful for that interlude to collect his thoughts.

The energy in the room reminded him of the moment when they’d first entered that hotel suite in Phoenix and turned to face each other—both knowing exactly why they were there.

But their connection had been so much deeper than sex, no matter how hard he’d worked to deny it.

They fit together in every way, the ebb and flow of their conversation drawing him in even more than the rise and fall of her lithe, eager body.

Walking away from her had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Her words to him in the truck today echoed in his mind. You felt like home.

His throat worked at the mere idea of saying the words aloud. Me too, Baby. You felt like home to me too.

She laughed lightly, the sound musical on the air. “I think it gets hotter if you light it,” she joked.

“Right.” He patted his pockets for his lighter. He bent and lit the smallest piece of kindling, which was so dry it instantly burst into flames. They’d be toasty warm in no time, though he barely noticed the frigid air with Eva in the room.

He rubbed the scruff on his cheek and chin, thinking he’d lost the ability to have a conversation with her the moment he’d walked in here. Primal. That was the word for what he was feeling. It was a primal need to have her.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it in his pocket.

She cocked her head. “I haven’t been able to get a signal for over an hour.”

“Satellite receiver on the roof.” He looked at it and saw it was Sloan. “Hey, Dvorak.”

“We just landed. Want us to come to you?”

Gavin glanced at Eva. “Yeah, I don’t think the baby’s ready for her first snowmobile ride just yet.”

“Is she yours?”

“Who?”

“The baby. Is she yours? I can’t ask in front of the mom, and we’ve got some serious money riding on the answer over here.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How much money?”

“Champion and I are in the affirmative for fifty bucks each. Trace says pigs would fly circles around our chopper before you let yourself get ‘trapped in a fatherly way.’”

“Is that so?” Gavin had no doubt the guys had a hundred bucks riding on this, any more than he doubted Trace had said what Sloan repeated verbatim.

“Yep. He says you were an Eagle Scout and know the value of—and I quote—‘carrying an oilcloth jacket in case of a sudden rain shower,’” Sloan said, affecting a thick southern drawl.

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. “Just get your asses over here.”

“Be there in ten, Daddy-oh.”

Gavin hung up and pocketed the phone with a shake of his head. “They’re on their way.”

She got up and put the baby over her shoulder, then wrapped them both in the quilt like a vampire cape and stood up from the bed. She moved in front of the fire.

He moved to the sofa behind her and sat down, watching, mesmerized, as her hand rhythmically patted Abby’s back. “Are you burping her?”

“Yes.” She turned to face him. “Do you want to try?”

“I don’t know how to burp a baby.”

“There isn’t some secret to it. Here, take her.”

Before he could protest, she was settling Abby onto his shoulder, his hands coming up to hold her there. He lightly patted her back just as he’d seen Eva do. “Like this?”

“A little harder, like you’re quietly playing a drum.”

He patted her more forcefully, surprised to hear the sound reverberate in the baby’s tiny chest like a percussion instrument. A minute later, Abby rewarded him with a burp which was loud enough to make him laugh out loud.

“You’re a master,” Eva said sweetly, and he felt a childish swelling of pride in his chest at the compliment. The muffled roar of approaching snowmobiles could be heard faintly in the distance.

“Should I keep going?” he asked.

“You don’t have to.”

To his surprise, he realized he didn’t want to stop. “There’s something nice about it—the weight of her, the sound of my hand thumping.”

She sat beside him and looked at him wistfully, a wet glimmer in her eye. “Yes.”

He cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

Eva shrugged and looked away, wiping at her eyes. “Ugh. I’m such a mess.”

“Tell me what made you cry.”

“I haven’t had anyone to share it with, that’s all. You know? Since she’s been born, it’s just been her and me. Other than her babysitter, I’m the only one who’s ever held her.”

The engines were closer now, the noise increasing until it stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry you’ve had to do this alone. The pregnancy, the birth, all of it. I should have been there.”

She shrugged, her body lost in the quilt, looking younger than he’d ever seen her look. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have.”

“But how could you—” A knock on the door made her stop speaking.

Gavin got to his feet awkwardly. “That’s the guys.”

Eva held up her hands. “I can take her.”

“We’re good, aren’t we, Abby?” He walked to the door and opened it to his teammates, their faces clearly showing their shock at the sight of him holding an infant. “Hey,” Gavin said by way of greeting, and stepped back for them to enter, his hand still keeping the beat on the baby’s back.

Gavin furrowed his brow. “Where’s Trace?”

“Right behind us.” Sloan passed Gavin with a pointed look at the baby, saying under his breath, “I am so winning this pot.” He went straight to Eva, putting on his brightest, friendliest voice. Gavin knew from experience he’d win Eva over in no time. “Beautiful baby you’ve got there,” said Sloan.

Gavin pushed the door closed behind Champion. “How was the flight?”

The door opened the instant he closed it, Trace appearing in the threshold.

“We almost died twice,” he said, pushing past Gavin.

“It’s fucking snow-ma-geddon out there. Then it turned to freezing rain and I kept searching for emergency landing sites just in case.

I was picturing us wrecked on a deserted hillside, and having to eat Sloan’s body. ”

“I would be fucking delicious,” said Sloan. “Not that you’d have any idea how to cook me properly.”

Again, Gavin closed the door. He turned to face the room and found Champion with a knowing smirk on his face. “How’s babysitting?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.