The Sergeant's Unexpected Family

By Carrie Nichols

Falling for his brother’s ex—and her baby!

A new small-town romance from Carrie Nichols

After losing friends while serving his country, Sergeant Brody Wilson shut himself off from the world. Enter beautiful Mary Carter, his brother’s former girlfriend, and her adorable infant son. Despite his best efforts, Brody can’t close off his heart to beautiful Mary and little Elliott. But will pushing them away cost the wounded warrior the family he’s always dreamed of?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin
• Release date: Feb 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781488041792

Carrie Nichols

Carrie Nichols loves to travel, is addicted to British crime dramas, and knows a Seinfeld quote appropriate for any occasion. She has one tolerant husband, two grown sons, and two critical cats. To her dismay, Carrie's characters--much like her family--often ignore the wisdom and guidance she lovingly offers. Her stories contain heart, home, and humor.

Book preview

Chapter One

If you’re going to nag me, you’re gonna have to marry me. Former army sergeant Brody Wilson heaved an exasperated sigh and propped his hands on the polished wooden counter of Loon Lake General Store.

From the other side, seventysomething Octavia Tavie Whatley pointed a crooked, arthritic finger. As God is my witness, you stood right there—right there on that very spot, Brody Wilson—and swore to me you’d given up those cancer sticks.

I did. Brody blew his breath out between his lips. I am... I will. Brody shook his head. The residents of Loon Lake might be eccentric, but they were decent, caring people, and he enjoyed living in this quaint corner of Vermont. But sometimes...

Looked as if today was turning into one of those sometimes. If he lived in a city, he’d be nameless and no one would know or care if he smoked himself to death. But damn, the woman was right, because if he lit up now, he’d be throwing thirty-two smoke-free months down the tubes. May was a tough month for him, but cigarettes wouldn’t change the past, only complicate his future. Yeah, smoking was a stupid move if there ever was one; nevertheless, he glared at Tavie as if she were the one in the wrong.

"Humph. And don’t think you can flash those pearly whites down at the Pic-N-Save to get those smitten girls to sell you any. I know their mamas." Tavie sniffed and touched her halo of teased hair as if she were in sole control of the thing that ruled a soldier’s life in peacetime—the unit’s training schedule.

Aha. Tavie snapped her fingers, reached under the counter and slapped a small box on the ancient wood. Here, try these.

Brody eyed the box with suspicion. What are those for?

"If’n you have to have something dangling outta that pretty mouth of yours, she said as she pushed the rectangular box closer, at least give these a try. They’ll hang out of your mouth just fine and won’t pollute your lungs."

He picked up the mint-scented box and turned it over several times. Toothpicks?

She nodded once. On the house.

Gee, thanks. The sad part was he couldn’t fault Tavie for treating him as if he didn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain. Thirty-five years old and still trying to decide what he’d do with the rest of his life. What did that say? In his glory days, he’d achieved more than most—including those smug Rangers—when he’d passed the army’s rigorous physical and mental training to become a covert operator for Delta Force. That phase of his life had come to a halt two years ago, but that didn’t give him an express ticket to pity town. Not when a trust fund and an army disability check eased financial concerns while he considered his options.

Tavie wore a smug smile. Thank me in thirty years, when you’re still healthy.

You planning on being behind this counter that long? The cellophane crinkled as Brody unwrapped a toothpick.

And why wouldn’t I? She crossed her arms over her bosom.

He smirked and stuck the toothpick in his mouth. Figured you and Ogle would be enjoying life in sunny Florida by then.

After leaving the army, he’d craved isolation, somewhere to lick his wounds. He’d expected to find it in rural Vermont, but it would seem the residents of Loon Lake had, at times, other ideas.

"Pfft, I know what you—" The ringing of Brody’s cell phone interrupted her.

Saved by the bell, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the phone. Huh.

Who is it? I can’t see. Tavie leaned over the counter and scowled at him when he held the phone out of range. Hey, I don’t get out much.

It’s the hospital, and you do just fine from behind that counter.

Want me to call Jan to see what they want? She might—

Why don’t I just answer... Brody swiped his thumb across the screen. Wilson.

Brody? It’s Jan over at Loon Lake Regional Hospital. There’s a woman by the name of Mary Carter in our ER with her seven-month-old son, Elliott, and they’re ready to be released.

Brody jerked his head back. What the...? He frantically searched his memory, but the names meant nothing to him. And this concerns me...how?

Well...she insists you’re the baby’s next of kin—

Whoa, hold on. He turned his back on Tavie, who was craning her neck over the counter, and, if he didn’t know better, he’d swear her ears had grown bigger. Tell me how I’m supposed to be related?

Don’t panic. Jan chuckled drily. She listed you as the infant’s uncle.

Uncle? Him? Did he even know anyone with an infant? Let alone someone who’d go as far as listing him as next of kin. But I...

Paramedics say she was quite adamant about you being the baby’s uncle when they brought her in.

Still trying to place the names, he took a deep breath to help counter the effects of a sudden adrenaline rush. What happened?

They were involved in a chain-reaction car accident out on the state four lane.

As he listened, an image of sparkling dark eyes and long, wavy hair the color of a Guinness rose to the forefront in his memory. Mary. Yes, that was the name of the attractive woman, his brother’s girlfriend, he’d met at their father’s funeral. If he was her baby’s uncle, how did his half brother fit into all of this? Where was Roger and why wasn’t the hospital contacting him? He and Roger had been estranged for years but the thought of—

Brody? You still there?

His thoughts scattered at the sound of Jan’s voice in his ear. Sorry. What sort of injuries did they sustain?

Yeah...no. Even Tavie can’t get me to break HIPAA laws, the nurse chided. "I can say they’ve been treated and are ready to be discharged. The doctor suggested she not go home alone. He wanted a responsible party picking her up."

Brody slouched against the counter and released the breath he’d been holding. The fact Mary and her son were being released after such a short time had to be good news, even if he didn’t know what any of this had to do with him. He was acutely aware of Tavie listening to his end of the conversation, so he tried to make light of this, even if it felt the opposite. Responsible? Ha, then I guess that lets me off the hook.

Nice try, but sorry, tag, you’re it...unless of course you want me to bundle an injured woman and her poor infant into a cab and send them off to God knows where.

How did the women of Loon Lake see past the badass special forces persona he’d been cultivating so people would leave him alone? He learned explaining why he’d left the army led to undeserved sympathy. The guys whose lives he’d endangered on that mission were the ones who mattered.

He sighed. Jan could’ve saved her manipulative breath because he was already halfway out the door. Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.

---

Mary Carter shoved her arms into the sleeves of a red plaid flannel shirt someone had scrounged up. The crisp white blouse she’d cut the price tag off this morning was now covered in blood, so a nurse had brought her a shirt from a lost and found box. Except the nurse had failed to mention Paul Bunyan had lost the shirt. Mary struggled to get her hands free of the endless sleeves so she could button the hideous thing.

It’s a bit big, but better than the one you were wearing, or going home in a disposable gown. The nurse bustled around the treatment area. Head wounds are such notorious bleeders. On the plus side, they glued yours, so no stitches to remove.

The sleeve flopped around as Mary reached up to touch the skin glue patch above her eyebrow. Memories flashed in her mind like slides in a PowerPoint presentation. A car in front of her spinning out of control...she’d braked...swerved...had no place to go. The screeching of brakes. The crunching of metal. A crying baby. Elliott! She choked on the bile rising in her throat. How could she not have asked for him before this? What was wrong with her? Please. Where’s my baby?

I assure you, he’s fine, dear. The trim fortysomething nurse, whose name tag identified her as Jan, gave Mary’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. He’s charming the nurses at the triage desk.

Mary’s shoulders slumped. I don’t understand why I didn’t already ask you that.

But you have, dear. Several times in fact. She squeezed Mary’s hand again before letting go. It’s the concussion. Even a minor one can cause some confusion. That’s why you need someone to check on you. Plus some good, old-fashioned rest.

Concussion explained the jackhammers in her head. If he’s not hurt, where is he? When can I see him?

Soon. We wanted to get you situated before we brought him in. No need to stress yourself. Elliott was snug and safe. Good job with the car seat, Mom. The nurse grinned. Everyone here is quite taken with him. Such a doll.

It was easy for someone else to say don’t stress, but at seven months, Elliott was her whole world, and she ached to hold him. Can you bring him to me? Please.

We’ll have him brought to you in a jiff. The nurse checked her watch. Now, let’s get you ready to leave before Brody gets here.

Brody? Mary gasped. You mean... Brody Wilson? He’s coming here?

Why, yes, dear, I let him know you’re being discharged, the nurse said.

But I... Good Lord, what had she started? She’d met Roger’s half brother, Brody Wilson, once before. What would he think of her barging into his life with her son? This was not how it was supposed to go. Without any family of her own, she’d come to Loon Lake to get to know Brody, let him get to know Elliott, but not like this. Since Roger had refused to acknowledge Elliott as his son, chances were he hadn’t told Brody about his nephew.

You were very insistent when they brought you in that he be notified about Elliott.

After the accident...the police, the paramedics...the ambulance ride. She’d been petrified about Elliott’s future if her injuries proved fatal, so she’d grabbed the hand of anyone close to her and insisted they tell Brody Wilson he had a nephew. She remembered wondering if fate would be so cruel as to rip her out of this world before she could introduce Brody to Elliott, before they could form a bond that would reassure her that her son would never be alone should anything happen to her.

She pivoted and swung her legs off the narrow gurney, but, still feeling a bit shaky, she remained seated, not wanting to do anything that might delay being reunited with her son.

I’m sorry but your jeans are covered in blood. The nurse held them up, and Mary wrinkled her nose at the blood-spattered denim. The nurse laughed. Yeah, if Brody was picking me up I’d want to look my best, too. He may be a decade and a half younger, but—Oh, dear, listen to me babbling on.

You know Brody?

Jan nodded. I met Brody when he agreed to pasture my dad’s old Holstein on his farm. After Dad’s stroke, we sold off the herd but no one wanted Gertie. Dad had a soft spot for her and I’d heard Brody might let her stay on his farm. But enough about cows, let me see if I can find some scrub pants for you to wear.

I’d rather you find Elliott for me. Was there something they weren’t telling her?

I will. I promise. The nurse patted her leg and gave her an appraising glance as if judging her size, then left, the curtain fluttering in her wake.

Mary straightened her shoulders and tried not to think about being in a strange place in borrowed, ill-fitting clothing. She was no longer at the mercy of others, no longer that forlorn little girl. If Brody wanted to find fault with her that was on him because all she cared about was holding her son.

But she did have to admit that Brody coming to the hospital for a virtual stranger was proof he was different from Roger. After she and Roger’s breakup, acquaintances of the family had told her Brody was the most respectable one—too bad that information had come too late for her to see through Roger’s charming lies.

She may have met Brody only once, but she’d witnessed his kindness firsthand. During the calling hours before his father’s funeral, he’d feigned interest as a confused elderly woman clutched his arm and told him a story—for the fifth time.

Unemployment had given Mary the time to search Brody out, something she’d planned to do after she was diagnosed with a blood clot that could’ve killed her. Elliott had been in danger of being orphaned, as she had been. She’d had no relatives willing to take her into their home. A motherless child caseworkers had to pick up and transport to another set of frowning foster parents who couldn’t see past her shyness or unfortunate overbite.

Elliott was an adorable baby and she’d been a withdrawn pre-teen. Still, she wanted Elliott to have relationships with his blood relatives and Roger had made it plain he didn’t want to be a father. She backed down from requesting child support when Roger threatened to seek full custody. Call her a coward, but she could support them and wasn’t taking a chance on losing Elliott. Instead, she’d conceived of a plan to seek out Elliott’s uncle, possibly even finding a legal guardian in Brody Wilson, should something happen to her.

The untimely death of a colleague had convinced her not to put off finding Brody and losing her job had sealed the deal.

Sighing, she held up the jeans, sticky with blood and who knew what else, and folded them. Those were her best ones, so she would try to salvage them. A childhood spent in the foster-care system had taught her to appreciate and take care of her possessions. Maybe the nurse would come back with pants that fit better than this shirt.

Someone with a purposeful stride approached and Mary sat up straighter, pushing her shoulders back. She didn’t want to give the doctor any reason to change his mind about releasing her. She ached to hold Elliott close and reassure him—and herself—everything would be okay.

---

Brody paused for a second outside the curtained area. Mary was calling her baby his nephew, so did that mean she was his sister-in-law? If so, where was Roger? At their father’s funeral, Roger had introduced Mary, who had seemed reserved, but shyness wasn’t a crime. After the brief service he’d hoped to have a word with her, but she’d disappeared, and he hadn’t hung around either. What would he have said if he’d found her? Warn her against getting involved with his half brother and that nest of vipers Brody called relatives? That sort of discussion would’ve been in poor taste. But wasn’t that an apt description for his family?

Inhaling, he pushed aside the curtain. Mary?

She glanced up, and her mouth dropped open.

What the...? For someone who’d insisted on contacting him, she didn’t look happy to see him. I...uh... He waved his hand in the direction he’d come. They said...the nurse...she said it was okay to come back here.

Yes. I’m dressed and decent. In a broad sense of the word, anyway. She ended on a breathless laugh and tugged on the hem of a huge shirt that threatened to swallow her whole.

I got here as soon as I could. He put her initial reaction down to embarrassment and approached the gurney where she sat, her bare, slender legs dangling off the side, her hands resting between her knees. Even in ill-fitting clothing, she made his breath hitch in his chest and had him thinking thoughts that were anything but brotherly.

She blushed, drawing his attention to a gash above her eye. Even the injury didn’t detract from her beauty.

You probably don’t remember me. I didn’t realize they were going to call you to pick me up. When they brought us in, I was frightened and... She trailed off, shrugged, then winced as if the movement or the thought was painful. I don’t know anyone else here, and I panicked for my son.

I’m glad they did. Where’s...? He glanced around but saw no evidence of a baby, and his stomach somersaulted. Jan had told him they were releasing both, hadn’t she?

His apprehension must’ve shown, because she reached out and brushed his arm with her fingertips. It was a simple gesture of reassurance, but her touch spread warmth across his chest.

They’ve assured me Elliott is fine. Not even a bruise. But I haven’t been able to get anyone to bring him to me. I just keep remembering him crying— She sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut.

Oh, God, not that. Anything but a woman turning on the waterworks. You’d think, having witnessed his mother’s histrionics during his childhood, he’d be immune. He clenched his jaw at the unwanted memory of his mother’s many tearful rants designed to get everyone around her to cave in to her demands. For all the good it had done, since nothing seemed to please her.

He set his memories aside because Mary’s tears were genuine, not manufactured for effect.

Want me to go and see if I can get someone to bring him to you? He was ready to march out there and demand—heck, he’d beg if he had to—and not stop until they brought Mary her son.

She drew in a shaky breath. The nurse said—

If my patient gets any more popular, I may start handing out numbers like the deli on Saturday mornings. Nurse Jan stepped into the treatment area, a pair of blue scrub pants folded over her arm and a uniformed deputy at her heels. Of course, if all her visitors are this good-looking, who am I to complain?

Glad to see you’re okay, ma’am. The deputy sidestepped Jan, nodded to Mary then turned to Brody and stuck out his hand. Wilson.

Cooper. Brody shook hands with his friend’s husband. He’d met Meg McBride, now Meg Cooper, when she’d come to the farm, asking if he had any extra eggs she could buy. When he learned she wanted them for the weekly community luncheon at the church, he’d donated them. And continued to. How many eggs could he eat, anyway?

Deputy Riley Cooper didn’t act surprised to see him. Even for Loon Lake, the information about Mary and Elliott had spread quickly, unless... Are you here to investigate the accident?

"No, that’s for the state troopers. My big mistake was stopping at Loon Lake General Store when I got off duty. Tavie voluntold me to go and see if I could salvage the personal belongings out of Ms. Carter’s car at the tow yard. Tavie figured my uniform would get me