The SEAL's Baby. Laura Altom Marie

to slow his momentum.

      “Why’re you so prickly?” she asked when he sidestepped her. “Sam’s safe. You should be overjoyed.”

      “I am. But he’s not out of the woods yet.” Plus, I just had my first erection caused by a woman other than my wife....

      * * *

      “HE’S GOING TO be fine, you know?” While driving Heath’s truck, for a split second, Libby took her eyes from the deserted highway to glance toward him and his dog. Sam had long since finished off his water and now started in on his food. His eyes had already brightened, and she found herself liking him much better than his doggy dad. “It’s okay for you to relax.”

      “Could you please just focus on the road?”

      Gretta followed behind them in her SUV.

      Heath sat all stiff and straight and his handsome features were marred by the oddest expression. Was the big, strong guy trying not to cry? She’d been touched by seeing how much Sam meant to Heath. Was there a significance beyond any normal dog bond? Had he shared Sam with his wife?

      Though it was none of her business, Libby couldn’t help but ask, “Did you and your wife get Sam together?”

      For the longest time, Heath remained silent. The way a muscle ticked in his hardened jaw set her on edge. Had she picked at a wound still too tender for casual conversation?

      “I’m sorry.” She steered the truck around a small branch that had fallen onto the road. “Please, forget I even asked.”

      “Yeah...” When he finally did speak, his tone was raspy. He stroked one of Sam’s ears. “A friend told us his Lab-collie mix was having a litter, and we picked this guy out as a puppy. He had five littermates, but we could tell right away he was the one. He had spunk. He was always into everything. A little too curious for his own good—which I guess is how he landed in this predicament.”

      “Poor guy.” She patted the dog’s head.

      A glance at Heath had her thinking he might say something more, but much to her disappointment, he did not. Which made no sense—not so much the lack of conversation, but why his sudden silence bothered her.

      * * *

      THE RELIEF SHIMMERING through him after Sam’s positive health report left Heath a little punch-drunk. He’d dodged a bullet with that one. Everyone from his mom and uncle to his old SEAL gang kept telling him it was time to move on. He needed to get on with things. Get back to work. There was always lots of getting in their well-meaning speeches, but none of their words amounted to squat when it came to making him feel even a fraction better about having lost his wife.

      If he’d then lost her dog, too...

      Well, he was just damned lucky it hadn’t come to that.

      The fact that he ultimately had Libby to thank for spotting Sam didn’t escape him. As soon as the dog was doing better, maybe he’d take her to a formal thank-you lunch.

      While you’re feeling generous, think you owe her an apology for being such an ass on the beach?

      Heath folded his arms, focusing on his dog rather than his pansy conscience, which had apparently gone as soft as his out-of-shape body.

      “You’re one lucky fella,” said Cassidy Mitchell, the town veterinarian, while applying the last of Sam’s bandages. She’d given him pain meds and antibiotics, and at the moment, with his giant pink tongue lolling and tail lightly thumping the metal exam table, the dog looked about as happy as could be expected. To Heath, the vet said, “Since you live a ways out, I’ll send you home with supplies to clean and change these bandages. Once he starts feeling better, he’s gonna want to go straight back to his normally wild ways, but just to be safe, I’d keep him inside and resting as much as he’ll let you.”

      “Will do,” he said, scooping Sam into his arms.

      Gretta had left right after hearing Sam was okay. The commode in room ten had overflowed, and she’d had to meet the plumber. Heath would have called her, but he’d left his cell back at the cabin.

      “Think you can handle carrying Sam’s supplies?” the vet asked Libby.

      Libby nodded, taking the multiple packages Cassidy’s assistant had assembled.

      “Sure you’re okay?” the vet asked Libby. Heath had made brief introductions upon their arrival. “You’ve paled about ten shades since you first got here.”

      “I’m fine,” Libby said, but having witnessed her previous faint, and seeing her expression look similar now, Heath wasn’t so sure.

      “Just in case...” The vet’s teen assistant trailed them outside. “Let me take Sam’s bandages and meds, and then you just open the truck door.”

      “You’re both being silly.” Libby made the trade-off, then opened the door. “I’m abso-lute-lee...”

      Fine? Heath finished her sentence just as her legs buckled from beneath her.

      Chapter Five

      With Sam centered on the truck’s bench seat, Heath shot into action, now hefting Libby up next to the dog.

      “She okay?” The pimple-faced teen assistant couldn’t have been over sixteen. He’d paled as much as Libby.

      “Hope so.” Heath took Sam’s supplies. “I’ll run her to the clinic, though, to make sure.”

      Just as she had during her previous fainting spell, Libby woke within a few seconds. At which point, Heath, for the second time that morning, felt crazy-relieved. And guilty. If she hadn’t followed him to the beach to get Sam, would she have passed out?

      “Whoa...” She’d rested her head against the seat back, and now pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “What happened?”

      “You fainted again.”

      She groaned. “That’s not good.”

      “Nope. Which is why I’m running you to the doc.”

      “I’m all right. Please—” she stroked Sam’s sleepy face “—take me to my room at the motel. I just need a nap.”

      “Probably, but I don’t want it on my already full plate if it turns out there’s something more wrong.”

      “Look...” Sighing, she hugged her belly. “The truth is, I can’t afford to pay a doctor. I’m good. I have to be, because really, I don’t have another choice.”

      “There’s always a choice—this time, it’s doing the responsible thing for your baby by letting me pay for your treatment.”

      “That’s not necessary. I’m already feeling better.”

      “Perfect. Then you won’t mind me wasting my own money to prove it.”

      Other than her pressing her lips together a bit tighter, Libby showed no other emotion. He was glad, because the day had been draining enough without her launching another fight.

      He pulled to a stop at the red light on Archer.

      With the Fourth of July so close, carnies were hard at work assembling rides on the elementary school’s soccer field. The Tilt-a-Whirl resembled a praying mantis with its legs still folded on the flatbed trailer where it lived when it wasn’t at play.

      Back when he’d been a kid visiting his grandparents over the holiday while his dad was on leave, the annual carnival that started on the first was everything. Corn dogs and funnel cakes. Losing a month’s allowance worth of quarters on the Coin Dozer game. Best of all, spending time with his family, back when they really had been a family.

      The light changed and he made a left, heading toward the clinic.

      With Sam peacefully napping and a warm summer breeze riffling his hair