Sweet Surprise (4 page)

At Fiona’s frown, her friend laughed.

“Okay, maybe not right
now,
with your sexy compression sock and your forehead looking like you crushed a can of Budweiser into it.”

Sabrina was a full-blown Mexican fireball. And Fiona considered herself lucky to have such a friend. Especially one who’d stuck with her through the thick of her insanity.

“The hospital should put you in charge of the morale-boosting committee,” Fiona said.

“Well, when you get in these moods, it’s no joke. Surely, you can see how well you’ve done.” She arched a brow at Fiona’s silence. “Again with the no? Then let me spell it out for you.”

And she did—popping up a hot pink fingernail with each point she made.

“You’re an amazing mom. You’re independent. Self-sufficient. You’ve saved enough to start your own business. You’re a rock star BFF. And you’ve opened your heart to the woman your ex-husband is about to marry. What more can you ask of yourself to make up for those bad-judgment years?”

“I don’t know.” A twinge of undigested guilt reared its ugly head. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Well, stop figuring and live. Enjoy yourself.” Sabrina’s wide mouth broke into a grin. “Grab hold of a man like that hunk who just left here and have a little fun.”

And there lay the problem.

Fiona had had enough fun to last her—plus ten other people—a lifetime.

Somehow, by the grace of God, she’d managed to survive. Now it was time to get serious. And serious did not include hooking up with another fireman.

No matter how sizzling he might be.

A
s he drove past the big iron gates at Wilder Ranch, Mike realized, once again, he was heading into a world completely different from the one in which he’d been raised.

When his firefighter father died battling a warehouse blaze in downtown Los Angeles, his mother had moved him and his five sisters in with their
Avó.
Their maternal grandmother had welcomed them with open arms into her little two-bedroom duplex. In the heavily Hispanic neighborhood, however, children from a Brazilian mother and a Caucasian father were viewed as outsiders. Misfits.

Boyle Heights in East L.A. harbored over twenty gangs, each badder and more dangerous than the next. The welcome mat had only been unrolled by those with illicit goals. Dodging those who sought to bring chaos and harm became a way of life.

His sister Avianna hadn’t been able to resist the constant pressure to join the “
family.
” Unaware of the consequences, she’d descended into a world of sex, drugs, and crime at the age of sixteen. When other teenage girls were learning how to put on makeup, having schoolgirl crushes on the Backstreet Boys, and trying on prom gowns, Avianna learned to use a gun, sell drugs, give away her body, and throw away her self-respect.

Her drug and alcohol abuse spiraled out of control, and her absences from home became more frequent. Which, to Mike’s dismay, seemed like a relief at the time. Her brief moments at home were usually spent throwing a tantrum, stealing from their mother or their
Avó,
and bad-mouthing anyone who didn’t comprehend that her “
friends
” were special.

As the only male in their family after the death of their father, Mike had tried to fill his boots. He’d tried to rescue Avianna from those who meant her harm and from those who twisted her thoughts and made her far from the reasonable girl she’d been when they’d first moved to the neighborhood.

He’d tried, and he’d failed.

Miserably.

After months of trying to talk sense into his older sister, to bring her back into the arms of those who loved her, Mike had been the one who’d held his mother’s hand when they’d been called down to the morgue to identify her body.

He’d been only fourteen at the time.

Seeing Avianna lying lifeless on that cold steel table had haunted his every waking moment and given him nightmares that jolted him awake in a pool of sweat and tears.

Though they’d never caught or prosecuted the person who’d pulled the trigger on his beautiful sister, word on the street had been that she’d pissed off the girlfriend of a B Street gang member. That moment of indiscretion had put her at the wrong end of a 9mm bullet.

Between the day of her funeral and the day he’d enlisted in the Army, his life had gone down a comparatively destructive path. He’d been all of eighteen when he’d decided he needed to change the way he lived. So he married his high-school girlfriend, then poured his heart into learning to be a good soldier.

After several deployments to the Middle East, he remained stationed in Texas until he decided that his path in life had become murky again, and he needed a drastic change. He left the military, got a divorce, and followed in his father’s boots.

Becoming a firefighter, a first responder, a rescuer, had saved his life. But all the training in the world would never bring back his father, his sister, or his marriage. And it would never clear his conscience of the mistakes of his past.

As he parked his Durango near the huge Wilder barn, he scanned the area, wishing he’d had the kind of upbringing the Wilder brothers had been privileged to enjoy. He didn’t begrudge a single one of them. Quite the opposite. He admired the men they were. Hardworking. Respectful. Loyal. Heroic. He aspired to be a man just like that.

But he had a long way to go.

From the veranda, Jana Wilder, the woman who’d raised those boys to be such good men, waved a welcome. Her customary big blond hairdo, jeans, and Western boots verified she was one hundred percent Texan. Her big smile confirmed she was a warm woman with a big heart.

On his way to meet her, he received a head butt in the back pocket of his Levi’s by a goat wearing a blue satin ribbon around its neck.

“Welcome, sugarplum,” Mrs. Wilder called. “And don’t you worry about that old goat. She’s just sayin’ hello.”

He looked down at the farm animal that looked up at him with big eyes and bleated a “Meh-eh-eh.” He’d been to Wilder Ranch several times, but apparently he’d missed the little, brown, four-legged welcoming committee.

“Is it okay if I pet her?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. A little rub right between the horns will make her happy as a debutante at the Sugar Plum Cotillion.”

Mike reached down and, sure enough, the goat leaned into his hand as he gave her a brisk rub. Growing up, he’d never had a pet. Hell, he didn’t even know you could put a goat in that category. It was kind of strange and cool all at the same time.

“Her name’s Miss Giddy,” Jana said. “And I’ll warn you, if she takes a liking to you, she’ll follow you everywhere.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Hello, Miss Giddy.”

“Meh-eh-eh.”

“Yep. She likes you. Come on in.” Jana waved again. “I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee brewing and some fresh-made sweet-potato biscuits.”

Miss Giddy gave him a sorrowful bleat as he walked away.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilder, but I already had breakfast.” Mike stepped up onto the veranda and followed her inside the big ranch-style house. The entry walls were lined with framed photos of the Wilder family in all stages of their lives. All smiling happily for the camera. After he’d turned fourteen, his own family had never had a group photo taken. There’d been too many family members missing, and no one had the heart to look at a half-empty reminder.

As he moved through the hall into the kitchen, he couldn’t help wonder how different things might have been had his father started out as a firefighter in Texas instead of the mean streets of L.A.

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Wilder waved him in. “You’re a growing boy. You need to keep up your strength.”

Actually, he was thirty-two and full-grown, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise when she’d so obviously gone out of her way to be hospitable.

“And don’t you dare call me Mrs. Wilder. It’s Jana to you just like it is to everyone else.” She wiggled her fingers toward the table. “Have a sit and let’s have us a little chat.”

He’d come prepared to work. Whether she wanted him to move manure or sweep out the barn to pay off the charity debt, he didn’t know. But he hadn’t expected to come for breakfast or a chat.

She set a cup in front of him and poured it full of strong, steaming coffee. “I expect you’ve been over to see Jackson and Abby’s new place.”

“I have.” He took a sip, then set the cup back down. “I helped him put in the windows.”

“So you’re familiar with construction?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have a business on the side. I install windows, roofs, floors, drywall, paint. You name it, I do it.”

“Well, aren’t you ambitious.”

“Not sure I’d call it that. When I became a firefighter, I learned that because you get so many consecutive days off, a lot of the guys do side jobs to earn extra money for their families. I just figured it was a good way to keep myself out of trouble.”

“Is getting in trouble something you do often?”

“I’ve had my share. Don’t care to repeat my mistakes if I can help it.” He’d been in the hot seat many times in his life. The one currently below the pockets of his Levi’s was definitely heating up. And by the inquisitive gleam in Jana’s eye, he figured he was about to receive an FBI-style interrogation.

Each time they’d previously met, Jana had been friendly and welcoming. She had a way about her that made everyone feel like family. Him included. But they’d never really had the chance to sit down, just the two of them, and talk. Jackson often laughed and said his mother could pull information out of a dead snail if she had the mind. Mike wasn’t sure about that, but his curiosity was definitely piqued about why she wanted to
chat,
and why she’d chosen to pay such a pricey sum for his services at the charity auction.

Some of the bachelors up for auction had been scored by beautiful young women looking for a hot date. In fact, when he’d first spied Fiona in the crowd, he’d hoped she’d raise her bid paddle when it came his turn onstage. To his disappointment, she hadn’t. Jackson’s mother had won the bid, and Mike was pretty sure she wasn’t looking for a hot date. Yet with four grown sons who were experts at the ranching business, he couldn’t imagine what she had in mind for a guy who knew zip about cows and goats.

“It’s nice to see someone so industrious,” she said. “All I hear down at the senior center are folks complaining about the lazy younger generation. They say they can’t get their grandkids or even some of their adult children away from the Facebook or something called Candy Crush long enough to get any work done. So I admire a young man such as yourself, who’s willing to put in the hard work necessary to set himself up for the future. That’s something my husband and I always tried to teach our boys.”

Mike let the compliment settle in. From bagging groceries to changing car oil, he’d earned a paycheck from the moment he’d been legally old enough to be put on a payroll. It had been a necessity to help support his family. Not that he minded. And even on his worst days, he still made it to work. Still brought home a paycheck.

He’d even offered to help his younger sisters with their college tuition. In his mind, a college education was money well spent. No way did he want any of them to have to go back to their old way of life in a dangerous neighborhood. Unfortunately, with their current situations, his sisters were proving that to be a challenge. Only his baby sister had stepped up and taken advantage of his offer, and sometime in the next couple of years, he’d be able to call her Dr. Camila Halsey.

“I do my best.” He sipped his coffee and accepted a biscuit from the plate Jana offered. While he bit into the warm buttery treat, she looked him over and smiled.

“I know we haven’t had much of a chance to chat before,” she said. “And I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but Jackson told me you were previously married.”

“Yes, ma’am. My ex and I were together for about ten years.”

“What happened?”

“Direct, aren’t you?” He smiled to take the sting off the observation.

She smiled back. “Sugarplum, I’m just getting warmed up. If you ask anyone who knows me, they’ll tell you I’m a meddler. And, well, I guess I am. If meddling means seeing the people I love find happiness.”

“But you hardly know me.”

“I probably know a lot more than you think I do. You can tell a lot about a person by their eyes. And, sugarplum, yours are just about as deep as a fathomless pool. I imagine there’s a lot going on behind all that pretty brown color. And those tiny little crinkles at the corners? To me those read like life lines. Each one stands for a whole lot of hard knocks and heartache.”

“I’ve heard of palm readers.” He chuckled. “But I never knew there was such a thing as an eye-wrinkle reader.”

“Eh, all a palm is going to tell you is whether a person’s a hard worker or not. You got calluses? Damn skippy you’re a hard worker. Hands that are as smooth as a baby’s butt? You either invested in a hand-lotion company or you get all your exercise from pushing the buttons on a TV remote.”

“You do have an interesting way of looking at things.”

“And
you’re
pretty good at evading them.”

Crinkles,
as she called them, formed at the outer corners of her own eyes.

“Me? I’m more direct,” she said. “You might have noticed. So I’ll just get right on back to my original thought.”

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t stop you if I tried.”

“See.” She pointed at him while another huge smile stretched across her mouth. “You’re smart too. So tell me, don’t you deserve to find happiness like everyone else?”

He couldn’t stop the bark of cynicism that leaped from his throat.

He didn’t deserve shit, let alone happiness.

“Just as I figured.” Leaning back in her chair, Jana lifted her coffee cup and sipped. “Got a good place to start? Or should we just go with you telling me what happened that a nice young man such as yourself got himself hitched to the wrong woman?”

“Not much to tell really.” Unfortunately, the shrug he gave released very little pressure off that can of worms. “We were young. Rash. And I put a ring on her finger for all the wrong reasons.”