In Deep (Complete Series): In Deep

By Layla Valentine and Holly Rayner

Pregnant with two of his babies,
She must tell no one,
Or risk everything falling apart…

HIM:

Three years ago I went deep undercover.
My mission? To rescue her from a life that was a lie.
She, pure, sweet, innocent,
Me, the battle-hardened Navy SEAL.
We lost touch after the FBI took over,
But now she's back in my sights.
I couldn't resist picking up where we'd left off.
How would I know that one night could change my life in two very beautiful, but accidental ways?

HER:

Three years ago he saved me…
After a chance meeting, we reunited for just one hot night,
Before reality came rushing back to bite us.
Six weeks later I find out I'm pregnant,
But if news gets out the consequences could be dire.
How is my SEAL savior going to react,
When he finds out he's got twins on the way?

This is the complete In Deep series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Valentine
• Release date: Mar 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201781828

Book preview

CHAPTER 2

TAMMY

It’s almost shocking how quickly things return to normal after the festivities. We’ve all been living and breathing wedding preparations for what feels like forever, but now, the celebration is over and James and Rachel are happily ensconced in their new married housing. They’re excused from chores for the next week, of course—a honeymoon period is expected for the newlyweds—but the rest of us are summoned to chores first thing in the morning, just like always.

I’m expecting it to be hard, returning to my mundane daily life. I’ve been working on ornate wedding outfits for the past three months, and today, the garments laid out before my sewing machine are all standard repairs and productions. Split seams from hard labor in the fields, new shirts for children who’ve outgrown their existing clothes. It should be boring.

But, to my surprise, once I sit down at my machine and begin sewing, I find it relaxing. It’s nice to lose myself in my ordinary daily tasks. It takes my mind off the troubles I was brooding over last night. All that matters today is ensuring that my stitching is straight and even and won’t break. I’m good at this. Before long, I’ve fallen into my usual rhythm, moving easily from one garment to the next, my mind as free and clear as it always is when I’m working for the benefit of the commune.

It helps that the good weather has held. When we stop for mid-morning break, I leave the sewing room and take a walk around the ranch property, visiting some of my favorite spots. I stop by the chicken coop and watch the young children collecting eggs. Maybe someday, I’ll have a child of my own—a boy or girl who will work with the chickens and come home with stories about feathered friends. It’s easy to picture that little boy or girl, to imagine myself laying a bowl of soup on the table for their dinner.

The part I can’t imagine is the child’s father. There’s just no one here I’m interested in becoming intimate with, much less reproducing with.

Lately, I can’t help wondering whether I’ve sacrificed my opportunity to become a mother by coming to the ranch. It can’t be denied that the dating pool is much, much smaller here than it is in the outside world. I always believed that, eventually, I would find a man I liked, and I still believe that would have been possible had I not come to Pyrite. But with such a small group to choose from, maybe I just need to accept that that isn’t in the cards for me.

Break over, I return to the sewing room. All the women who work here are unmarried—married women are assigned to other areas of the commune. I look over at Rachel’s unoccupied sewing machine beside mine. Someday soon, Olivia and the other girls her age will be old enough to take Rachel’s place.

Meanwhile, the women older than me cluster at the back of the room, circled up, talking about whatever women in their fifties and sixties talk about. I know they’re not thinking about marriage and children anymore. More likely, they’re waiting to see who among my generation will marry and who will join their ranks.

It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with choosing to be single. For a long time, I thought that might be the right path for me. As a young professional, a relationship seemed like a needless frivolity. But now…well, I don’t know. I’ve been starting to feel differently. I don’t think the single life is the right choice for me. Not anymore.

If only I had some more palatable options!

We work through the late morning with the windows open, letting the air and the singing of the birds wash in. I try to keep myself in the positive mindset I achieved earlier today. Maybe after evening chores, I’ll take a yoga mat out to the cornfield and try to center myself. That usually helps when I get lost in thought like this.

Tammy?

I look up from my work. Xavier is standing in the doorway, smiling benevolently at me.

When I first met him, in seminars, he often wore loose khaki shorts and a faded T-shirt, but sometime over the last three years, those clothes have fallen apart. He now wears a beige tunic that hangs halfway to his knees over a pair of beige drawstring pants, just like everyone else here at the ranch. The only color he adds to his ensemble comes from a string of beads, which he uses to tie back his long hair into a low ponytail. If I met him in the outside world, I would probably expect him to sell me weed, but clean-living Xavier would never pollute his mind with chemicals that impair thinking.

He beckons for me to join him. I get to my feet immediately, not bothering to clean up my sewing station. When Xavier calls for you, you go immediately. The women around me watch me leave, and I know there will be gossip once I’m gone. The questions they’ll be asking are already racing through my mind. Am I in trouble? Have I done something wrong? What does Xavier want?

Once we’re outside, he turns to face me. How are you today? he asks.

The question surprises me. I’m fine.

I had a feeling last night might be difficult for you, he says gently.

Ah, of course he did. That’s Xavier for you. Always so attuned to what other people are feeling.

It was a little challenging, I admit. Of course, I was happy to see Rachel get married, but—

But it made you think about your own life. He nods sagely. Perfectly normal, of course, but that can be trying. Is there anything I can do to help?

I don’t think so, I say.

Well, let me know if anything comes to you later. He pauses, and it’s clear there’s something else on his mind. I confess that’s not the only reason I came to see you, he says. We have a newcomer to the ranch today, and as someone who came to us from the outside world, I thought you’d be a wonderful choice to help him settle in.

Sure, I say. I’d be happy to help with that.

Wonderful, Xavier says. He’s waiting in the Commons now. Keep him with you for the rest of the day—you’re excused from chores—and I’ll find the two of you at dinner.

Excused from chores. For the rest of the day!

I’m momentarily stunned. That isn’t something that happens often around here. Even leading up to the wedding, no one was excused from chores—except for the bride and groom, of course—we were simply reassigned to areas where we were needed more. I’ve never been excused from chores for an entire day.

For a moment, I want to ask Xavier if he’s sure, if I’ve understood him correctly, but he’s still smiling at me like a kind father, and I know he means what he says. I actually have the day off.

Feeling somewhat perplexed, I step back into the sewing room and make my way over to my machine. Everything is still piled where I left it, awaiting my return. I carefully snip the thread I was working on and fold the shirt, placing it neatly on the table beside my station so I can pick up where I left off tomorrow.

Everyone in the room is watching me. I can feel their stares. Everyone is wondering what happened, what Xavier said, and why I am so obviously cleaning up my station now instead of returning to work.

Finally, Miriam speaks up. What was all that about?

I shrug. Apparently, there’s a newcomer to the ranch.

A newcomer? Miriam’s eyebrows shoot up. Around the room, people stop working to pay attention to our conversation. You mean a new member?

That’s what it sounded like, yeah, I say, removing the spool of thread and turning off my sewing machine. Xavier asked me to show him the ropes.

I didn’t know we were expecting anyone new, Nancy says from the back of the room, where she sits with the other women of her age. Who is this person?

That’s all I know, I say. I fit the cloth cover carefully over my sewing machine. I’m supposed to go and meet him right now, so I guess I’ll find out.

Tell us everything at dinner, Miriam insists.

I’ll do what I can, I say, hiding a grimace. Miriam loves gossip, but it always makes me feel strange. I wouldn’t have liked to think, on my very first day here at the ranch, that the residents were talking about me behind my back. It goes against the inclusive atmosphere I know Xavier is trying to create.

Still, I do understand why she and the others are curious. It’s so rare that we get any new members added to our community that when it happens, it’s even more exciting than a wedding. Whoever this person is, he will be part of our daily lives from now on. We’ll share meals with him; we’ll socialize with him; we’ll carry out chores alongside him. It’s only natural that we should want to know as much as possible about him.

As I walk across the lawn toward the Commons, I have to admit that I’m intensely curious, too, and I feel lucky to have been assigned to show him around. I’ll get to know him right away. I won’t have to sit and wonder.

With lunchtime fast approaching, the Commons is a busy place. Food is being carried out of the kitchen on giant platters and in serving bowls too big to wrap my arms around. It looks like we’re having chili and salad. The picnic tables have all been moved back inside, and the first few people are starting to sit down and load their plates with food.

Even amid all the action of a hot meal, the newcomer is easy to spot. He’s standing near the fireplace where the children gather in the evenings to listen to stories. He’s facing away from me, a backpack slung over his shoulder, so I can’t get a good look at him. His posture gives away plenty, though. He looks rigid and uncomfortable, as though he’s not sure what to make of everything he’s seeing.

I can relate to that feeling. Life on the ranch is so different from life in the outside world. I’m sure this man is struggling to take it all in.

I approach him. Excuse me, I say.

He turns, and I very nearly take a step back.

I feel as if I’ve been punched and all the air has left my lungs. He is so handsome. He’s over six feet, with gorgeous untidy black hair, pale blue eyes, and a tan complexion. He’s broad-shouldered, with big hands and the kind of angular nose that looks like it was crafted by a Greek sculptor.

He tilts his head, curious at my strange behavior.

I recover myself. I can’t go all starry-eyed right now. This is his first day on the ranch. He’s not looking for love. He’s looking for a place to sleep, clothes to wear, and someone to help him feel at home.

That’s what I need to be to him right now. After that…well, we’ll see what happens.

I extend my hand. I’m Tammy, I say. Welcome to Pyrite Ranch.

He shifts his backpack to one shoulder and shakes my hand. Connor, he says.

Xavier asked me to help you settle in, I explain, not sure whether Xavier told him to expect me.

Connor smiles. I’d appreciate that very much. This place is a little overwhelming.

It is at first, I agree, remembering my first weeks on the ranch. Of course, my experience was different from Connor’s—I’d already lived here for a week when I decided to stay.

That’s usually how new people come to the ranch. Xavier will hold a retreat and exhausted, overworked urbanites will come and stay with us for a short period. During that time, it’s everyone’s job to make them feel as welcome and included as possible, so that at the end of their time here, when Xavier presents the possibility of permanent settlement, it will be appealing. It’s important to bring new people to join the community so that we can sustain ourselves.

But Connor didn’t come through that process, and that’s incredibly mysterious. What could make a seemingly normal man in his twenties give up the life he knew and come join a community he had never set foot in? He must have heard about us from somewhere, but it’s still a surprising way for someone to make their way here.

Peripherally, I take another look at him. He seems remarkably self-confident. A lot of the discomfort I read in his body language seems to have melted away now that we’re moving, and I wonder if he’s the kind of person who’s most at home in a situation where someone is telling him what he needs to be doing.

If that’s the case, he’s going to do well at the ranch. It’s one of the things that’s made this place such a nice one for me. All the mental stress of the outside world sort of goes away when you’re presented with a series of very basic tasks each day and you know exactly what you need to do to be successful. It will bode well if Connor indeed finds it comforting to follow someone in a leadership role.

Not to mention that, my God, he’s attractive! If we were meeting in the outside world, I would be using this time to ask him questions about himself, trying to get to know him better in the hopes of possibly landing a date. I can’t believe my luck. Here I was, lamenting the lack of decent guys around my own age, and the next day one just happens to show up on the ranch? And not only that, Xavier assigns me to acclimate him to life here?

Actually, I can’t believe that part is a coincidence. Xavier knows what he’s doing, and it’s almost spooky how he always seems to find the right place for everyone on the ranch. We’re lucky to have such a great man as our leader. He does a wonderful job bringing out the best in everyone and making the most of every opportunity.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he assigned me to this duty to see if there was any spark between me and Connor. In which case, I should be spending this time trying to get to know Connor better.

What brings you to Pyrite Ranch? I ask, leading him into the men’s dormitory. It’s empty now, of course—all the men are off at morning chores—but it still feels strange to be in here. I can almost feel the masculine energy of the place. It’s the one building on ranch property I’ve hardly ever entered, and even though the layout is identical to the women’s dormitory, it feels like foreign land.

I saw the website, Connor says, looking around.

Oh, I say softly. We don’t use internet here, but Xavier does maintain a website—it’s the only practical way to reach out to new people. I found the ranch online myself, after searching for out-of-the-box vacation destinations. And you just decided to go for it?

I’d been looking for something like this, he confesses. I worked an office job before, and it was a constant grind. My dream growing up was to own a farm, but that’s so difficult to do as a single person—there’s just so much work that goes into it. Communal living seemed like it might be the ideal solution for me.

I smile. I think you’re really going to like it here, I say, hoping I’m right.

He returns my smile, and I’m charmed all over again by the way it changes his face. I’m already liking it, he says.

It takes me a moment to get my wits about me.

Um, the wardrobe, I say, feeling foolish and lightheaded. I mean, this is the men’s wardrobe. You can get clothes here.

What about these? he gestures to the jeans and button-down shirt he’s wearing.

We encourage you to keep any resources you own, I say. Of course, there’s no point in throwing things out, but most newcomers to the ranch find they don’t want to wear their clothes from their old life anymore. Those clothes would make you stand out, set you apart from the rest of the group. You want to be one of us now.

Connor nods. That makes sense.

I open the wardrobe and show him the rows of hanging tunics and pants.

Find something that fits, I say. I’ll wait outside. Take your time.

As I turn toward the door, I can see Connor out of the corner of my eye. He sheds his shirt, revealing a tight, sculpted upper body, and it’s all I can do not to stare. I can see a tattoo on his back—nestled between his muscular, angular shoulder blades—and although I’m suddenly fascinated, I can’t stop to try to figure out what it