Free Skin Deep by Pamela Clare

few people with her little girl. Nate couldn’t blame her for that. “It’s pretty far, isn’t it?”
    “I promise I won’t drop her.”
    Megan stood, shifting Emily into Nate’s arms.
    Emily’s eyes opened, and she looked up at him from beneath heavy eyelids. She reached with one tiny hand, touched the scarred side of his face. Little blond brows furrowed, Emily’s sleepy eyes filling with a child’s sympathy. “Owie.”
    Her eyes drifted shut again, her hand curling beneath her chin as she snuggled against Nate’s shoulder.
    Blindsided by the child’s simple gesture, her innocent compassion, Nate’s throat went tight, a hitch behind his breastbone where his heart was supposed to be.
    Get a grip, Marine.
    He carried her down the hall, up the stairs, and into the guestroom, where his dad had a warm fire already burning. He waited while Megan pulled back the covers, then laid Emily gently on the bed, watching as Megan drew the blankets and quilt up to her daughter’s chin, the moment satisfying something deep inside him.
    He spoke quietly. “My dad and I usually end the day talking around the fire. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
    Megan bent down to plant a kiss on Emily’s forehead then stood and smiled at him in a way that made his pulse kick up a notch. “I’d like that.”
    She followed him downstairs, where they found his dad, tumbler of scotch in one hand, cell phone in the other. He was sending a text message, probably discussing his plans for tomorrow with Chuck, the foreman who’d been with the ranch as long as Nate could remember. They would need to drive hay out to the cattle every day now until the snow melted enough for the cows to forage again.
    His dad looked up. “Is that adorable baby girl of yours tucked in?”
    “Yes, she is.” Megan sat across from him.
    Nate reached for the bottle of Aberfeldy and a tumbler, poured himself a drink, truly needing it. “Want some scotch or a glass of wine?”
    “I don’t drink.” She smiled almost apologetically. “But I wouldn’t mind some of your hot chocolate.”
    “You got it.” Nate set his drink aside and stood, but his old man stopped him.
    “Sit down. I’ll get it.” His dad tossed back the rest of his scotch, tucked his cell phone in his pocket. “I make it from scratch, you know—milk, cocoa, sugar, touch of vanilla. None of that powdered shit.”
    “Thank you.” Megan’s lips twitched as she watched the old man walk away, a glint of laughter in her eyes. She met Nate’s gaze. “Your father is a real character.”
    “He fought with the Army Rangers in Vietnam. I’ve always had a world of respect for him.” Nate took a drink. “The past few years have been hard on him. He misses my mom. She died five years ago.”
    Megan’s gaze shifted up to the family photo on the mantel. “He told me. I’m sorry for your loss.”
    Nate was surprised the old man had mentioned his mother to Megan. He didn’t often speak of his grief. “I was downrange when it happened.”
    She got a puzzled look on her face.
    Quit speaking in military jargon, jarhead.
    “I was deployed in Afghanistan. I was deployed a lot.”
    “Is that why you’re not married?” Megan’s eyes went wide, and she began to babble. “Oh, God! I’m … I’m sorry. That’s a personal question. I would think a handsome man like you… I mean… It’s really none of my business.”
    “No, that’s okay.” Nate was both amused by her obvious embarrassment and moved by what she’d said. It had been a long damned time since anyone had called him handsome. “I was almost married once. I met Rachel in college. We reconnected when I was home on leave. I thought that was it. I proposed a couple years later. When I was wounded, it was just too much for her. She came to visit me about a week after I arrived at the Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. I was drugged out of my mind. I thought she’d come to be with me, but she’d come to end it. She just