Page 18 of The Mountain Man's Siren

But it’s not a reporter that’s stalking toward me like a man on a mission. It’s Owen, looking pissed as he stomps in my direction.

How could he have found out already? No one even knows his name. Uncle Micah knows about Owen. But he’s never asked questions and I haven’t volunteered any information.

When Owen reaches me, he shoves his hands in his pockets and stands there. I’d almost managed to stitch some of the broken pieces of my heart back together again but seeing him now is ripping them out. My heart shatters at his feet and he never hears the sound.

“Lemon,” I whisper the word.

“I know, lamb.” His expression crumples, and he drops to his knees on the brown lawn. “I need to tell you something. I made a bad call. It was my last mission, the reason I got out. It was my job to pick the targets. There was this one city rebel forces were using for a stronghold. I thought it was completely abandoned. That’s all the reports and surveillance showed it as being.”

There’s a faraway look in his blue gaze, like he’s reliving it. I want to reach out and touch him, but I don’t let myself. “I realized too late I was wrong. I tried to radio in, but I didn’t make it in time. I watched as the entire village went up in smoke.”

He swallows and looks up at me. “A lot of civilians died that day because of me, and I haven’t felt worthy of anything since that moment. That’s why I pushed you away like a fuckin’ coward.”

I blink against the tears that threaten to fall. I hate that he’s in so much pain. “I hope you know it wasn’t your fault. You can’t be blamed for the faulty information you were given.”

He takes my hand in his, the motion is tentative and so unlike the normal confidence he carries. “I want to be with you.”

I shake my head. If there was just me to consider, this would be a very different conversation. But it’s not. There’s a little baby that needs to be protected. “I’m sorry for what happened. That’s truly awful to live through. But what about the next time you’re feeling overwhelmed by the guilt and pain? I don’t want to raise our child with a man who pushes away his family. It’s not fair to the baby.”

His jaw goes slack at the same moment I realize what I said. He hasn’t had time to process this. Hell, I barely have either. “Are you pregnant?”

“I didn’t mean to tell you this way.” I feel a small stab of guilt. I probably should have eased him into this conversation. Not that it matters. He’s already made his feelings on fatherhood very clear.

“We made a baby,” he whispers with what sounds like awe in his voice. Then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he says in a tone filled with conviction, “You’re right. It’s not fair to the baby if I don’t have my shit together so I promise you this. I will do whatever it takes to find healing and wholeness. I will be the father this child needs.”

A few of the pieces of my heart come back together again and tears slip down my cheeks. I want to touch him so badly. I want him to wrap me in his arms. “I’m really happy to hear that.”

“I know it’s a hell of a long shot because I’ve fucked this up every way possible. But do you think even given what I’ve told you, we could ever have something?”

The vulnerability in his gaze is my undoing. “I’d really like that.”

He joins me on the bench and pulls me against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I can’t let you go, lamb. You’re stuck with the big bad wolf.”

My heart still aches, and I don’t know what the future will hold. But I know I want to face it with my gruff mountain man by my side. “That’s OK. Maybe I’ll tame him and turn him into my pet.”

He chuckles, the sound rich and dark. “Not likely, Goldilocks.”

12

OWEN

“Don’tyou look at me like that,” my soon-to-be wife says. I haven’t slipped the ring on her finger quite yet, but it’s hidden away in my drawer, waiting for the moment when I can ask her.

“I’m not doing anything,” I say as I run the razor lightly over her leg. At eight months pregnant, she has trouble reaching some places on her body. So far, I’ve learned how to give a good pedicure and a decent foot massage. Neither of which I mind doing.

My little lamb has spent most of this pregnancy throwing up. Even with medication, she struggles with severe morning sickness and near constant migraines. But every time I ask her about it, she gives me the biggest smile and tells me how happy she is to be pregnant.

We both know it’s likely to be her only pregnancy so we’re trying to appreciate the good moments. Like now when I’m sitting in the tub with her and running a little pink razor over her skin.

“You know what that look does to me,” she accuses.

I apply the fruity-smelling shaving cream to her other leg. I shouldn’t be this hard, just doing a simple task for her. But this pregnancy has given me an even deeper appreciation forher body and the amazing things it can do. Hell, she’s growing another person. That makes my girl fuckin’ awesome in my book.

She wiggles her pink toenails. “I have a surprise for you today.”

It’s not sex and we both know it. The doctor has her on bedrest at this point. It’s more of a precaution given how hard the pregnancy has been on her body. Every ultrasound has shown that our little girl is healthy and right on track for her development.

“Do you want to re-arrange the closets again?” She’s supposed to stay off her feet, but she still feels the need to organize this place.

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