Page 4 of She Autumn Be Mine

“That’s right. Because Trig isn’t. Your ex isn’t. Just me. And I’m not going anywhere. So get used to it.”

If I let myself, I could get lost in those kind hazel eyes of his. Suddenly, my child, with a handful of puffs, king of two words and a hundred sounds of gibberish, held a hand up to him and said, “Da-da-da-da-da.”

We both gasped at him. My whole body froze, with my heart doing things I had no names for, and none of them made any sense.

Jake recovered first. “Baba.” He tapped his own chest, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’m Baba, remember?”

“Dada,” Stetson repeated, giggling over our attention like he was on stage for our entertainment.

“Uh, it’s… Yeah…” Jake scratched the back of his neck. “Today at the party, he probably heard some of the other kids calling their dads that. He’s just trying it out. Like a new hat. Speaking of which—” He deflected and took the mini-cowboy hat from the top of the fridge and planted it on the baby’s head. “There’s the cowboy.”

“Right,” I found my voice. “The party.”

“Dadadadadadada,” my son babbled like a machine gun going off.

I rolled my eyes, but a glance at the clock again confirmed I really was running behind.

I bent over, kissing his downy head, breathing him in one more time. “Be good for Baba, baby.”

Jake stood so close I caught myself engulfed in the cedar woodsy scent of him. Heat flooded my cheeks.

“I have to go.” I bolted to the door on legs that almost buckled.

“Autumn,” he called.

When I looked back, he had Stetson up and out of his chair, on his hip, holding his tiny hand up in a wave.

“Bye-bye, pretty little Mama. Be safe.” He used a goofy baby voice as if it were Stetson’s. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

On that note, with the image of the two of them imprinted on my heart, I walked down the block to the Saloon, the tiny town alive and well around me for a Saturday night in the country.

What was I going to do about Jake? Nothing now. Not when my son so clearly connected with him. He already didn’t have a father around, and his uncle was gone, too. I couldn’t tear another male figure from his life.

Or from mine—because as much as I hated to admit it, Jake was the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

TWO

Wrapped

Jake McCall

Taking care of babies wasn’t for the faint of heart. I’d learned a few things quickly since babysitting, or since falling into the role of Autumn’s Manny, a word I snickered on—I was a decorated Navy SEAL for Christ’s sake.

Rule 1: The art of distraction gets Stetson’s attention every time.

Rule 2: There was a distinct difference between his hunger cry and his tired cry.

Rule 3: Teething sucked.

Poor guy. Today had been a warm July day, and Autumn warned me he’d been fussy. She ran on two nights of little sleep and a pot of coffee before heading to work tonight. So when he finally conked out on my chest while I lay on the couch, I wasn’t about to wake him.

Normally I’d have followed Autumn’s strict rule about putting him to sleep in his crib, or face her wrath, and had Stetson sleeping there soundly while I waited up for her to get home from work—which was torture, waiting to make sure she made it home safely.

Here he was on my chest, my hand over his back, holding him in place, and something hit me. An enormous wave of protection all at once. I wasn’t just a sitter. This was bigger, ran deeper than any feeling I’d ever had before. When the SEAL missions in my past were all about protecting faceless nameless people, this was personal.

I’d guard this baby with my life, if it came right down to it—he meant that much to me.

So did his mother.