The Soldier's Surprise Family. Jolene Navarro

in charge. A purple scarf got caught up in the wind before she tucked it back into place.

      He groaned. His resolve not to think of her in a personal way took a hit every time he saw her. So much for avoiding her.

      Her normally friendly smile was gone, replaced with a glare, but not at him. A few feet away from her, a silky mop of a dog lay on its belly. Big brown eyes darted between Anjelica and a small herd of colorful chickens. Maybe they were a flock. What do you call a group of chickens?

      He’d grown up in the city surrounded by noise, not hills and odd farm animals. A month ago he would have told anyone who asked that he was a city boy. But living fifteen miles from a town that was in the middle of nowhere, Texas, he discovered a new side of himself. And a new plan, to build a home of his own where people wouldn’t bother him, especially an overly friendly landlady.

      The one-room cabin would sit on the edge of the Frio River. He could see the waters running so clear it washed all the grime away from life.

      He sighed. After his disastrous marriage, the biggest part of his plan was to stay single, no ties and no family. There was a sign over Anjelica that screamed Hero Needed and he vowed to never play that game again.

      A small whine sounded from the silky mop with a pink bow. Maybe he could still make it up the stairs to the apartment over her garage. He glanced to the door, estimating how long it would take to—

      “Officer Kincaid!”

      He dropped his head before turning to face her. The woman made him nervous with her whimsical smile and dancing movements. Fragile and naive, someone else who needed to be protected from the real world.

      Her golden-brown eyes found him, bright and eager. The commander of a moment ago vanished as she made her way toward him. The fluff of a dog that Garrett had never seen before followed, deciding to chase her flowing skirts instead of the chickens. “How was work? I always pray nothing happens.” Her eyes slipped to the gun he had holstered at his hip. “Uneventful night in your line of work is a good thing, right?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “I saved a couple of extra soft tacos. Egg and bacon along with fresh coffee. I can bring them to you.”

      “I—” Before he could find a good excuse, Sheriff Torres’s patrol vehicle pulled into the drive and parked behind his SUV. An unexpected visit from the local sheriff usually brought bad news.

      Anjelica’s smile vanished. She clutched her scarf with one hand as the other held her stomach. She displayed all the signs of someone who knew to expect bad news. In a few steps he closed the gap between them.

      A woman in a fitted business suit and low heels got out of the passenger side. She was tall, with her dark blond hair forming a neat bun. In his cowboy hat, Sheriff Torres approached with the woman close behind.

      “Morning, Anjelica. Kincaid.” He nodded to each of them and shook their hands.

      Garrett watched as Anjelica took a deep breath, in and out.

      “Kincaid, this is Sharon Gibson. She’s with CPS.”

      Child Protective Services. Relief loosened the muscles he hadn’t even noticed had tightened. So it was work related and they were here for him, not her. He gave Anjelica a reassuring smile. Her shoulders dropped a notch and her smile returned. She moved to the woman and shook her hand.

      The woman turned to him, offering a greeting. In her free hand, she carried a couple of folders. “Nice to meet you, Officer Kincaid.”

      “Likewise. So, what can I do for you?” The one thing he dreaded the most was domestic situations involving kids. He turned to Torres. The sheriff shook his head. Garrett’s brows crunched inward. Now he was confused.

      Sharon Gibson cleared her throat. “We’re here because of your son in Kerrville.”

      “Excuse me?” There was no way he’d heard that right. He glanced at the sheriff’s grim face. “I don’t have any children. I’ve never even lived in Kerrville.”

      “You were married to Viviana Barrera Kincaid while in Houston, correct?”

      “For a short time.”

      She tilted her head. “Are you saying her son is not yours or that you are unaware of the boy, Garrett River Kincaid Jr.?”

      The world stopped spinning. Where had his blood gone? Glancing down, he noted that his body looked intact. Muscles pricked as if drained.

      The woman looked around. “Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

      His mind had gone blank. Sit? She wanted somewhere to sit? Behind an invisible wall, he watched Anjelica pick up her dog. Words were exchanged.

      She walked to her porch and disappeared into the house. The woman, Sharon Gibson with CPS, followed her onto the porch and sat on a rocking chair.

      Commands from his brain went unheard by his body. Nothing worked. Frozen. Viviana had found a way to pull him into her drama all over again.

      Torres stopped next to him, placing a firm hand on his upper arm. “I take it you didn’t know about the boy. No one likes being blindsided.” The sheriff patted Garrett’s tense shoulder. “Come on—we’ll get this worked out.”

      A son, no way. There had to be a mistake. Viviana, for all her faults, would have told him about a child. It had to be Ed’s, her boyfriend she kept going back to. How could they know for sure that the boy was his? He was going to be sick. Deep breaths.

      He followed Torres up the steps, not seeing anything but the folders on the low table between the chairs.

      Anjelica pushed open the screen door. The hinges needed to be oiled. She sat a tray on the small table. “I have sugar and cream. Does anyone need something else, like water?”

      Sharon smiled. “This is perfect, thank you.” She poured cream into her cup.

      Garrett stared at the swirls of the white getting lost in the black liquid.

      “Garrett?” Anjelica’s voice brought him back to the present. The warmth and smile were gone. Now he got the same glare the chicken-chasing dog earned. He was a dog.

      He shook his head. If he tried to drink or eat anything, it wouldn’t stay down.

      At the end of the porch, across from Sharon, Sheriff Torres sat on the swing and took a drink from his cup. “Sure you don’t want coffee? Maybe some water?”

      “I’ll get you some water.” Anjelica disappeared into the house.

      Sharon took a sip before she looked at him, a soft smile on her face. “So you were married to Viviana Barrera?”

      Breathe, Garrett. You have to breathe. He nodded. His throat too dry to make a coherent sound.

      “Her son’s name is Garrett River Kincaid Jr. You’re listed as the father on his birth certificate. Family members also say you’re the father.”

      “Are you sure?” What kind of man didn’t know he had a kid? Even his loser of a father stuck around for the first few years. “I didn’t know.” His jaw hurt, but he made sure to keep his face calm. A clear mind and facts, that was what he needed to sort this out.

      “This is an emergency situation. You can challenge with a DNA test if you want to, but the state uses the name on the birth certificate and acknowledges you as the legal father.”

      Garrett looked at the curve of the rocker resting on the worn boards of the porch. What had Viviana done now? He cleared his throat, the need to explain, to make them understand, burning his gut.

      He heard the creak of the screen door again and looked up. Anjelica handed him a water bottle. Fighting the urge to press the cold bottle against his neck, he rolled it between his palms. His landlady vanished inside the house again. “Why are you the one telling me this? Are they in trouble?” If CPS was involved, something had to be wrong.

      Sheriff