Still, when she spoke about him, her voice went a little wistful. “He was several years younger than me, you know. Our parents died when he was very small, so I practically raised him. Always felt more like his mom than his sister.”
“He told me about you.”
“He did?” An eager smile curved her mouth. Oh, this was what she’d wanted. What she’d hungered for. Someone else who had known Brant. Who could remember him with her and keep his memory fresh and meaningful. Plus, Jericho King had known him at the end of Brant’s life and those were pieces that Daisy needed. She wanted to know everything. “What did he say about me? No, wait.” She stopped and held up one hand. “If he was complaining about me, maybe I don’t want to know.”
His features relaxed enough that one corner of his mouth lifted. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “Brant only had good things to say about you. Used to tell his buddies all about your secret sauce for hamburgers. Talked about it so much he had the other guys begging him to shut up because he was torturing them.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” Her eyes welled with unexpected tears and a too-familiar ache settled around her heart. “Thank you for telling me. It’s hard for me, you know, not knowing what his life was like before he died. I mean, some of his friends wrote to me after…but it’s really good to hear you talk about him. To know you knew him. And liked him. I— Damn it.”
“Hey, don’t cry.” His eyes flashed and his voice was sharp. “Seriously. Don’t.”
She sniffed and huffed out a laugh. “I’m not going to. Oh, trust me, when I got word that Brant had died, I cried for days. Weeks.”
Turning, she started walking because she just couldn’t stand still a moment longer. Nikki was right on her heels as she moved across the lawn and Jericho was just a step behind the dog.
“It felt sometimes that I’d never stop crying. The slightest thing set me off. His favorite song playing on the radio. Finding his old first baseman’s glove on the floor of his closet. Even Nikki made me cry.”
“That I understand,” he muttered.
Daisy laughed and was grateful for it. He was such a guy. “I meant, Brant gave her to me for my birthday just before he shipped out. So she was my last link to him and when he was gone—” Shaking her head a little, she sighed, looked down at the tiny dog and smiled. “But I realized after a while that Nikki was a blessing. With her, I wasn’t completely alone, you know? I still had something from Brant with me.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said softly.
She looked up at him, her gaze locking with his. “I appreciated the letter you wrote me.”
His jaw worked as if he were chewing on words to taste them before allowing them to escape. “And I’m sorry I had to write it.”
“Oh,” she said, giving him a tremulous smile as she reached out to lay one hand on his arm, “so am I. I wish with all my heart that Brant was still here. But he isn’t. And I wanted you to know that it helped hearing from you. That reading about his friends and how much he meant to all of you gave me some comfort. You know, in case you were wondering.”
He looked mortally uncomfortable and Daisy asked herself again, Why? Surely it would be a good thing for him to know that what he’d done had helped her get through a truly hideous slice of life.
“He was a good Marine,” he said after a long moment of silence.
“High praise indeed, coming from you,” she said, remembering all the letters Brant had written to her. “My brother talked about you all the time in his letters to me. About how he admired you. How he tried to emulate you. Learn from you.”
Clearly unhappy with the conversation, Jericho bent down, snatched up a fallen twig from the grass and sent it sailing toward the tree line. “He did fine. Would have made a hell of a career Marine.”
She knew that was exactly what Brant had wanted. Knew that her little brother had wanted to serve his country and test himself alongside other Marines. It had been important to him. So important that he’d given his life for his beliefs. And though her heart hurt still at his absence, being around Jericho—a man that had known and served with Brant—made it almost seem as if she hadn’t lost him completely.
That was only one of the reasons she’d come here to get pregnant, she reminded herself. Jericho had known and liked Brant. But he was also a part of the very military that had taken the last of her family from her. Wasn’t it only right that he now give her a family?
She winced at the direction of her own thoughts. She wasn’t a woman used to lying or manipulating. And a part of her wasn’t happy with what she was doing. After all, she was planning on tricking a man into making a child with her. Things didn’t get much more devious than that.
But what choice did she have, really? She wanted a family again. Wanted to love again. And if she came right out and asked, she was sure Jericho wouldn’t say, Sure, let’s get right on that!
No, this was the only way. The only way to fill the hole in her heart left by Brant’s death.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I almost met you before.”
“When?”
“At Camp Pendleton. I went to see Brant before he shipped out and while he was showing me around the base, he spotted you.” She smiled at the memory. Her brother had been so excited, so proud. He’d introduced Daisy to most of his friends and taken her to his favorite spots on base. “You were coming out of some building and Brant was dragging me over to meet you when a colonel walked up to join you. When the two of you left together, Brant was disappointed.”
She also recalled clearly just how good Jericho King had looked in uniform. Tall and built and, even from a distance, clearly gorgeous. She’d been a little disappointed at not meeting him herself. Yet, here she stood now, more than a year later, at his home. Life took you on some pretty strange journeys, she thought.
“He was a good Marine,” Jericho said again, as if struggling to give her whatever it was she needed to hear. “He had a lot of friends in the unit.”
“He was always like that,” Daisy answered with a wisp of sorrow in her voice for days gone past. “People liked being around him.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. As they came to the edge of the lawn, the rising sun began to clear the treetops, spilling what looked like gold dust across the tips of the pines. “I liked your brother,” he finally said, staring off down the mountain as if searching for signs of an invading army. “Because of that, I’m going to tell you something you need to hear whether you want to or not.”
“Sounds ominous.”
He tore his gaze from the distance and looked down at her. “You don’t belong here, Daisy.”
“What?”
She hadn’t expected that, but looking at him now she couldn’t imagine why not. Harsh shadows cast by sunlight sliding through the trees lay across his face, darkening his eyes and making him look even more formidable than usual. His mouth was a grim, straight line as he said, “You don’t belong here, on the mountain. This is not your kind of place, Daisy.”
Worry gnawed at her insides for a few uncomfortable moments, then that sensation gave way to aggravation. Was he going to change his mind? Toss her out before he’d even given her a chance to prove herself? He didn’t know her. Didn’t know what she might be capable of or not. How dare he think he could decide what she could and couldn’t do.
“It’s my kind of place if I say it is,” she told him.
He