The Sergeant's Unexpected Family

  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?

  Brody reached out and pulled her in for a chaste hug.

  “Don’t worry. I may have acted like an insensitive jerk, but if anything ever did happen—which I doubt—I’d be there for Elliott.”

  “Really?” She put her arms around him. He smelled of hay, horses and fresh air, and she struggled with the urge to rest against his solidness, if even for a moment. There were so many reasons she should pull away. He didn’t do complicated and their getting involved was that with a capital C. She was a single mother who needed to think of her son. Getting involved with Brody knowing he didn’t do long-term would be stupid. She could be damaging the one thing she’d come for—establishing a familial relationship for her son.

  Instead of pulling away, she tightened her arms around him. He responded by fitting her body to his. He used his thumb under her chin to lift her face to his. The look in his eyes mirrored her anticipation and her heart crashed against her ribs.

  “I’ve needed to know what you would taste like since you first smiled at me,” he whispered, and fastened his mouth to hers.

  * * *

  SMALL-TOWN SWEETHEARTS:

  Small towns, huge passion

  Dear Reader,

  Brody Wilson insisted on auditioning for the part of hero in my first book in the Small-Town Sweethearts series. Unfortunately that wasn’t his story, but I promised to reward his patience. I have followed through on that promise, but as Sondheim cautions, wishes come true, not free. So Brody’s happily-ever-after doesn’t come without cost. I have given my hermit wannabe a farm with rescued animals and a town full of well-meaning if somewhat meddlesome residents.

  In today’s busy world we often forget to take pleasure in life’s little moments, in the everyday things around us. Mary is a city girl who discovers her heart on an isolated farm. She learns even darkness rewards us with a sky full of miracles. I think this makes her the perfect heroine for a jaded Brody, who is surrounded by beauty he never really sees.

  I hope you enjoy your visit to Loon Lake. If you haven’t read the first in this series, The Marine’s Secret Daughter is still available in digital. And I hope you’ll join me later this year for more Loon Lake and Liam McBride’s story.

  Please visit me at carrienichols.com or Facebook.com/authorCarrieNichols or email me at carrie@carrienichols.com to let me know what you think!

  Carrie Nichols

  The Sergeant’s Unexpected Family

  Carrie Nichols

  Carrie Nichols grew up in New England but moved south and traded snow for central AC. She loves to travel, is addicted to British crime dramas and knows a Seinfeld quote appropriate for every occasion.

  A 2016 RWA Golden Heart® Award winner and two-time Maggie Award for Excellence winner, she has one tolerant husband, two grown sons and two critical cats. To her dismay, Carrie’s characters—like her family—often ignore the wisdom and guidance she offers.

  Books by Carrie Nichols

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Small-Town Sweethearts

  The Marine’s Secret Daughter

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  This story is dedicated to my late big brother, Norman, who was an avid amateur astronomer and teller of amusing stories.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank Dr. Warwick Dell of First Sight Hixson for returning my call and patiently answering my questions on CRVO. Any errors or misconceptions are entirely my own.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Excerpt from The Colonels’ Texas Promise by Caro Carson

  Excerpt from Flare Up by Shannon Stacey

  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 arm
s 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.

 
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