Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

Down, Lieutenant.

J.T. followed Julia and Bo out the door as Chris jogged past inside with a small suitcase and basket of flowers in his hands, Cheetos bag in his teeth. J.T. plowed ahead. He might not be able to do much about his wife, but he could make damn well sure a certain lieutenant kept his musical "talents" zipped up tight.

Rena watched her husband stride out the door after Bo and Julia, J.T.'s mercurial moods unsettling to say the least. One minute he seemed ready to kiss her. The next he was Sergeant Scowl. Then Mr. Sensitive with the footstool. Then back to Sergeant Scowl.

And she was definitely Counselor Cranky. Knowing her irritability came from pure sexual frustration didn't help.

Nikki plopped down on the ottoman, long legs folded to the side. "Do you need anything? A glass of water?"

"I'm fine for now, hon." Rena reached to tuck a stray strand of her daughter's chin-length bob behind her ears. If this sleek, earthy changeling didn't look so much like her father, Rena might wonder what rainbow Nikki had slid down into the hospital bassinet marked Baby Girl Price. "Thanks for coming home to check on me with exams starting."

"We don't all get much time to hang out together in the same house anymore," she said, her tone light, her clear gray eyes piercing. "Sorry I have to go back after supper. But where would I sleep, anyway, with Dad's stuff piled up in my old room?"

Easygoing kid? Not always. Nikki landed her sly digs in with the best of them. "Then let's enjoy this afternoon and the chili before you go. Your father's home to help until I'm on my feet since you and Chris have school. Nothing more and you know that. I'm sorry, hon, but that's the way it is."

"Like you helped him through after he got back from Rubistan." She nodded her bob into a steady swing. "Right. Got it. Lots of helping going on for two people who say they don't want to be married anymore."

Rena folded her arms over her increasing waistline. "Back off, kiddo. I'm the mom. You're not. Boundaries. Respect them."

"Sure thing." She reached to put her hand over her mother's crossed arms. "Hey, cool news about the baby."

"Thank you, hon." Nikki might be pissed, hurt even, but she never held a grudge. Rena envied her daughter the ability to let concerns slide off her. "You're okay with this? Not all embarrassed by your old pregnant mom?"

"Old? You've gotta be kidding me." She patted her mother's tiny bulge again. "And of course I'm okay with the kid. If you're happy about the baby, then I'm happy."

Rena placed her hand over her daughter's and let herself enjoy the momentary peace of simply celebrating the new life in their world. She blinked back tears.

"Oh Geez, Mom. Hormones, huh?" Chuckling, Nikki drew her hand away. "Have cravings kicked in yet?"

"God, yes." She swiped the back of her wrist over her watery eyes. "With a vengeance. I can smell those chicken wings from here."

Nikki's gray eyes flecked with sparks of mischief. "Be nice to me and maybe I'll fix you a plate once they're done heating."

"Brat."

"That's me. Always in trouble." Always in motion, too, Nikki scooped three granola-bar wrappers—starving Chris's, no doubt—off the coffee table, wadded them into a ball before lobbing them into a wicker trash basket. "How far along are you?"

What a loaded question since it would reveal the full extent of J.T.'s homecoming. Like her adult daughter wouldn't have guessed anyhow.

"Three months," Rena announced, then waited for the smart-ass comeback. Grown-up kids didn't accept quite as blindly as the little ones.

A knowing smile dimpled her cheek, inherited from her father. "A baby in time for Christmas. Cool."

Rena exhaled. Off the hook for now. Nikki pushed to her feet, starting a long-legged strut out of the room. Rena shifted in the overstuffed chair, adjusted her throbbing ankle on the pillow. She just wanted to get through this bizarre family reunion without an argument. One peaceful gathering. Bone-weary, heart-sore and more than a little rattled by the wreck and a short ride in her husband's arms, she didn't have the energy for confrontations before a serious nap.

They could all bolt back buffalo wings and chili and pretend everything was fine. Easy enough to do after twenty-two years' practice.

Nikki paused in the archway leading from the dining area back into the hall. She glanced over her shoulder, patting her own not-pregnant belly. "Oh, and Mom? Way to go, keeping those boundaries in place with Dad three months ago."

Winking, she spun away, glossy hair swinging against her ears with each cocky strut out of sight.

Rena wanted to call her daughter on that statement. Call herself, for that matter. But the brat had a point.

Thumping the minivan roof, J.T. stepped back from Julia Dawson's Windstar. She eased into the street and straightened, clearing the way for Bo's blocked Jeep to leave.

Which the young copilot would do, as soon as J.T. addressed one pressing matter.

J.T. jammed his hands in his pockets, dodging strategically planted clumps of flowers in Rena's tropical jungle that would put professional tour gardens to shame. He stopped beside the black Jeep. "Thanks for the help, man."