Navy Seal Promise. Amber Williams Leigh

The hanging plants and tables of vegetation soaked up the humidity. Kyle was already sweating under his cotton T-shirt when he rounded the corner and saw his mother chopping the stems off her latest delivery of fresh roses. The blade swung down, decisive under the guiding stroke of her hand. She worked by rote, quick, efficient in a red apron labeled with the Flora logo and thick work gloves to ward off any ill will from thorns.

      He reached into the leg pocket of his cargoes and pulled out the wrapping with his offering inside. “Howdy.”

      Adrian’s head rotated quickly, and she stopped.

      It took her a moment. Kyle knew with the beard, and his hair grown out a good ways, that the resemblance between his father and himself was striking. He watched it sink in. Her hands fell away from the cutter, and her mouth parted. With her, the emotions bled through him easily and he let them, smile going soft. “Is this where you keep Dad’s testicles?” When she continued to gaze, slack with surprise, he went on. “Mav and I. We’ve always wondered.”

      Her lips closed and her throat moved on a swallow. Though her eyes filled, she pulled in a breath and offered him a smile in return. “Why do you think I germinate the best bulbs in five counties?” The mist in her eyes grew until she blinked. She lifted her shoulders, taking him in. “Oh, my God, Kyle.”

      “Hey,” he said, as her hands rose to her face and she lowered it into them. He crossed to her and spanned his arms around her. It was easy to hold her, much as it was once easy for her to hold him. When a silent sob tremored through her, he cradled her closer and rocked, side to side. He gave a small, cajoling laugh. “Mom. Hey, it’s okay.”

      “Did something happen—to send you home early?”

      “I’m fine. My rotation just ended.”

      She pulled back slowly. Raising her hands to his face, she took a good conclusive look at him. Where Mavis had been satisfied with words, Adrian knew better. She looked deep, beyond the eyes, searching. “Something’s happened.”

      He shrugged it off. “It’s over. I’m home.”

      “You are. I’m happy. So happy.” Hugging him around the middle, she sighed. “Was your father in on this?”

      “No.” Kyle chuckled. “No, he’s off the hook.”

      “Have you seen him?”

      “Not yet. I saw Nick at the marina. He said something about an air show.”

      “It’s something B.S. put together,” Adrian said. “For charity. And, of course, advertising. He’s flying a vintage training plane from the ’50s. I’ve spent the better part of the day trying not to think about what happens when that man gets behind the yoke of an outmoded bucket.”

      “He’s a good pilot.”

      “He’s a show-off,” she said plainly.

      “Can’t a guy be both?”

      “Harmony’s there, too,” Adrian added.

      “Harm.” Kyle warmed at the news. He’d known Harmony from the day she was born. He’d marveled over her—her growth, her can’t-touch-this attitude, her remarkable go-hard personality and the unquestioned strength that held those around her together. Being with Harmony was like finding a new penny somewhere unexpected, and not just because of her Zippo Flamethrower hair. “How’s she doing?”

      Adrian’s smile wavered by a hair. Only a hair. “She likes being back in the air, and your father’s determined to make sure she stays there this time around.”

      “Why wouldn’t she?” When Adrian’s eyes skimmed to his shoulder, he ducked his head to bring her attention back to his face. “B.S. isn’t in some kind of trouble already?” Thus far, none of his father’s ventures had failed. To hear the man tell it, the agricultural market had been ripe for new sprayers. “It’s been barely a year since they cut the ribbon.”

      Adrian shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you everything. I don’t think even he’s told me all the nitpicky details, but there’ve been problems. Prospective clients slipping away. Contracts breaking up over mysterious circumstances. And the holes need plugging now to keep the belly of the business off the ground. Until then...” She lifted her brows, eyeing him from underneath them. “This needs to stay quiet. I’m not sure Harmony knows half of what I’m telling you.”

      “She’s fifty percent of the business,” Kyle pointed out.

      “Yes, but your dad told her from day one that this was a sure thing,” Adrian said. “She put her faith in his word, as well as her money, name and reputation. If B.S. goes under, it won’t be without a fight on your dad’s part. Or mine, for that matter.”

      Kyle frowned over the wave of information.

      Adrian crossed her arms over her chest. Mavis had looked much the same moments ago. “Did you sail home?”

      “Always do.”

      “On the Hellraiser.”

      “What else?”

      “Did you stay close to shore?”

      “Mostly,” he claimed.

      One of her brows twitched. “Please tell me you didn’t sail like an idiot through that storm.”

      He hedged. “Huh.”

      “Kyle Zachariah Bracken.”

      They both were born Carltons. Adrian had been married to Radley Kennard at the time of Kyle’s birth. However, she’d wanted to give Kyle her name in lieu of her first husband’s. When James came back into their lives, solidifying the family unit, his mother had asked Kyle’s advice over what to do with their name.

      He liked the idea of them staying Carltons, sharing what had been theirs together for so long. But he’d also finally gained a real father—one hell of a father—and he’d wanted to take his name. So, to James’s amusement and pride, Kyle and Adrian took up the name Bracken to please themselves as well as him. “In my defense,” Kyle said slowly, “it wasn’t a tropical storm at the time...”

      “You sailed through a hurricane and didn’t have the decency to call your mother,” she surmised, unimpressed by her findings.

      “Are you surprised?”

      “Not in the least. But I still have that BB gun I took from your possession all those years ago.” Her lips pursed. “Don’t think I’m not above poppin’ you with it.”

      Kyle finally extended what was in his hand. “Then now’s a good a time as any...”

      Adrian took the bundle gingerly. “What’s this?”

      “A surprise. Careful,” he added as she unrolled the cotton wrapping. “It’s not the cuddly type.”

      Adrian carefully unveiled the offering. She cupped it in her hands with the cotton bunched between her skin and the thorns packed close along the stem. “Kyle,” she breathed, every trace of censure vanishing. “Where did you get this?”

      “That’s...classified, Mom.” When she tutted at him, he said, “I did some research. It’s native to Madagascar. They say it migrated to the Middle East in ancient times as well as to small areas of India. They call it the Crown of Thorns.”

      Adrian gazed at it in wonder. Kyle’s mother had seen most every flower under the sun. He loved nothing more than bringing home something exotic, something she hadn’t seen before. In his parents’ bedroom at The Farm, she kept a shadowbox full of treasures he’d found through his years of service. Bending her head low over the pink blossoms, she sniffed for fragrance. “It’s different. I like that. Is it dangerous?”

      “Poisonous, from flower to stem. And it’d make a fair pincushion.”

      It might as well have been a puppy, the way she lifted it to look from another angle. She beamed. “You did