The SEAL's Instant Family - Leslie North Page 0,1

from his mother. Margaret Fitzpatrick was the most persistent woman he’d ever known. He’d texted her earlier in the day that he’d be headed home soon, and she’d sent him five messages since asking him to call.

“You should call or text your mom back,” Anderson said, reading the screen from across the table. “You know how she is.”

The three of them shared a grin. Margaret had been a mom to all of them since Patrick’s had walked out when he was a kid, and Anderson’s was never much interested in parenting. Margaret had been the one who made sure they all had Halloween costumes when they were little and got home from football practices in high school. She was a mother hen who didn’t put up with any nonsense.

“Later,” Kenton said. “She probably just wants to invite me to dinner. I’m not feeling it.”

“You’ve got to let the mission go,” Anderson said, standing up. “We’ve analyzed it. Viewed it from every angle. What happened wasn’t your fault, man.”

“I’m not convinced of that yet,” Kenton said. The sense of responsibility stayed with him as they drove off base and headed for Hartsville. Kenton dropped off Patrick first, at his house just outside town, and watched as his friend was engulfed in hugs from his wife and kids. Next, he took Anderson to a home in a newer development. The porch light was on, and Violet immediately stepped outside with their son Nate on her hip and a huge smile on her face.

Kenton beeped his horn as he drove off, happy that his friends had each found a mate who suited them, even if both of them had fallen into relationships in unusual ways. A few minutes later, he turned onto the tree-lined street where he lived. He’d bought the home, sight unseen, eighteen months ago, when he was on the other side of the globe. He’d viewed pictures on the internet and had his family’s assurance that he’d love it. And he did. More than he could put into words.

The dark blue Victorian was stately and graceful, the kind of place that exuded comfort and security. It was exactly what he wanted. Patrick and Anderson had teased him about the ornate trim, stained-glass transom window, and rounded turret. He’d taken the ribbing while thinking that his future wife, whoever she was, would appreciate those details.

As he pulled into his driveway, he was just glad to be there and have time and space to himself. He’d call his mom in the morning, but he wanted to sleep in his own bed first. Unpack and unwind before having to socialize. That was always best when he came off a mission. He needed time to adjust to the civilian world.

He grabbed his duffel bag, pausing when he heard a dog bark. He listened more closely. The twilight air was still and quiet, with only the hum of the cicadas and the slight puff of an early autumn breeze in the trees. He waited, and the bark came again. He could have sworn the sound was coming from inside his house, but his ears must be playing tricks on him. He loved dogs, had even gotten interested in training them in the military, but he hadn’t owned one since he was a kid.

With a shrug, Kenton let himself into the mudroom and dropped the duffel on the floor. A scrabbling of paws on the tile floor was his only warning before a large dog slammed into him, knocking him off balance and pinning him to the wall. The dog’s head was against Kenton’s chest. It didn’t move to bite him, but Kenton felt the heat of its breath and heard a low growl from its throat.

What the hell! What was a dog doing in his house?

Before Kenton could attempt to shove the dog away, a baseball bat was thrust into his side. Shit. Had he entered the wrong house somehow? His fist clamped around the key he still held. No, he’d let himself in. Before he could say anything, the pressure left his side as his attacker changed strategies and swung at his head. He parried instinctively and caught the bat before it connected, but he couldn’t prevent the glancing hit to his shoulder.

He gripped the bat and wrenched it away from his assailant. At the same time, he pushed off the wall, shoving the dog back as his senses processed who he was up against. He squinted, trying to make out a shape in