Under Siege (Wingmen Warriors 3)

"Julia?" Shelby nudged Julia's knee. "Could you talk to my dad for me?"

Dad? Had Shelby actually referred to him as something other than Colonel for the first time in as long as Julia could remember? A promising sign and she intended to push it further. "I'm sorry, but no. I can't be your go-between. Whatever you need to work out with him won't mean anything unless it comes from you."

Shelby held Patrick's tiny hands and rolled him gently along the top of the ball, his giggle spilling free. "I'm sorry about, well, you know, when I was supposed to be watching Patrick."

"I know you are, hon."

"But you still won't let me baby-sit him."

Julia hugged her knees to her chest. "Trust is a strange thing, Shelby. It only takes a minute to break it, but it can take so much longer to rebuild." Had she and Lance ever repaired that trust? Not really.

"Like with my mother."

Dangerous territory there. Commenting at all would make for a no-win situation. Only time and Pam could mend that one. Meanwhile, Shelby needed her father, especially if Julia left.

If?

Thunder reverberated outside, rattling the window, jarring Julia back to the present.

"Think about having a little faith in your dad. Give him a chance. He may not always say what you want to hear, but you can trust he's going to be there for you."

Shelby snorted. "When he's not thirty thousand feet in the air."

The whirring of an electric wheelchair cut off Julia's reply. Fourteen-year-old Nathan zipped past, circling with a devilish twinkle in his killer baby-blues.

"Hey, Shelby," he exhaled the last of her name with the ventilator whoosh. The flexible tracheotomy tube trailed from his throat to the back of his wheelchair into a ventilator the size of a laptop computer.

Such a small machine, but without it Nathan couldn't breathe. Bronchopulmonary dysplasia, BPD, had left him with chronic respiratory problems after he'd inhaled meconium at birth.

The kid also had a razor-sharp mind—and a wicked wit. "What do ya say we blow this place, Shelby? Me and you? Hop on and I'll drive you around the base."

He sounded so much like Zach angling for a Harley ride Julia couldn't suppress a smile.

Shelby winked at Nathan and slapped a hand to her chest. "Ah, Nathan, you'd just dump me when somebody new came along."

"Prob'ly right." He winked back. "There's this hot new babe in my rehab class. Can't keep her eyes off me.">The creaking of the chair slowed, but he didn't want to look at her, not until he could be sure the memories wouldn't show in his eyes.

"You're not your father. You would never hurt your children."

"I know that," he said automatically, rather than risk any more discussion on a subject he'd rather shut down.

The day was already ending on a bad enough note with the baby awake, teenager bawling her eyes out and dog in his bed. Of course the day might have had a crummy end, but it sure had been great before he'd parked the Harley under the carport.

He shrugged out of his jacket, draped it on the edge of the bed by her velvet gown and started on the shirt studs. He would salvage what was left of the night. Julia could make him forget. He worked a cufflink free.

"Uh, Zach?"

"Yeah, Jules?" He pulled his shirt off.

She cradled her son closer, chewing her bottom lip with that self-conscious air again. "I know this may sound crazy after what we did tonight, but I'm not sure I'm ready for you to sleep in here."

A cuff link dropped, bounced off his shoe and rolled along the hardwood floor. Slowly, he looked up.

"Why?" he asked and hoped like hell she would roll out some explanation about how the cranky baby might bother him and he would reassure her he didn't give a damn. He wanted to crawl into that bed with her and sleep for twelve hours.

"I just don't think I'm ready to take that step yet. I heard what you said to Shelby, and you were right. Sex without a commitment is wrong. That demeans it, turning it into something less than it should be." The rub of red along her neck from the scratch of his beard mocked him from across the room.

"For God's sake, Julia." He stood, draping his shirt over a hanger, a shirt that still carried the scent of roses and! Julia. "We're married. You can't get much more committed than that."