11 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Read Online Free PDF

on fight or flight and she was most assuredly a flight risk.
    “Captain?” Her soft voice intruded into the tangle of thoughts rioting in his mind and he dragged himself back to the present.
    “Joe. Please, Mrs. Carter.”
    A swift smile lit up her face so quickly it reminded him of twinkling Christmas lights, bright and brief. “Thank you for waiting with me, Joe. We’re ready to head back if you are.”
    “Absolutely.” He eyed the diaper bag on her shoulder and held out a hand. “Would you like me to carry that for you?”
    Surprise and rebellion argued for purchase in her expression, but she nodded rather than argue. Adjusting the baby, she slid the bag down and passed it over to him. “Thank you.”
    “My pleasure, ma’am.” Settling the bag on his lap, he released the wheel brakes and led the way through the corridors to the exit. He wanted to introduce her to James. He’d bet a hundred dollars for every pastry she’d consumed earlier that he didn’t know about her or he would be there providing support.
    His gut jerked. If James were there, she might not need or let Joe help out. Still, the psychologist could help. Maybe he could wrangle an introduction. He planned to chew on that thought awhile.
    It was warmer that afternoon than the morning. Sunshine and eighty degrees—in autumn. Strange. Freaky southern weather . It should be cool and crisp with a bite of chill in the air, leaves turning varying shades. What his mother called hot-mulled-spice-apple-cider weather. Not balmy-why-aren’t-people-wearing-swimsuits-weather. The baby made a happy gurgling sound and he glanced sideways at mother and child. Of course, the warmer weather was better for the two of them, so he would keep his complaints to himself.
    Thankfully the shuttle driver was an older man, retired Navy from the tats on his arms and had to be close to mid-sixties if not approaching his seventies. Solid white sparse hair and wrinkles in his face told of long hours in the sun. Mrs. Carter barely reacted to him, but she still sat in the last row near Joe.
    He didn’t mind that one bit.
    Libby seemed more active on the ride home. Her eyes opened and her deep blue eyes regarded him as she gurgled and waved her fists in the air. The little one was so damn tiny. Tiny, fragile, and perfect—like her mom.
    Whoa, boy . The possessive tinge to his thoughts raced far ahead of reality. He barely knew her, but his neighborly excuse grew flimsier with every passing moment. Her husband could be deployed and the last thing he needed was to pine after another man’s wife. Tension fisted in his gut, but her husband seemed the most likely candidate for putting fear in her eyes.
    They were silent as she led the way up the walk. The wavering fatigue marking her steps when they’d left that morning diminished. He wasn’t sure whether it was the food or just sitting at the hospital and talking to him for a couple of hours, but she didn’t seem quite as exhausted.
    At his door, she paused. But he motioned her to keep on going. He could follow her with the diaper bag before going to his place.
    “Oh, I thought you might want to change or something before the game.” Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “When is the game?”
    He ignored the internal fist pump that she’d remembered their plans. “We still have a couple of hours. But let’s get you two inside and then I can head back until we’re ready to start.”
    “That’s silly. The door is a few feet. I can carry the diaper bag.” A hint of exasperation decorated her tone.
    “Yes, it is, and I like to be useful. So use me.” He mulled over all the possible reasons she could call on to push him away.
    Her mouth opened and snapped close. Yes, he used his wheelchair to remind her that he wasn’t a threat. Not his proudest moment, but worth every second for the easing of the shadows in her eyes.
    “Okay. Fair enough.” She held out her hand to him. “My keys are in the bag, front