The Baby In The Back Seat
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Laura’s opinion of him went up another notch. A man who loved children had to be a decent man. Only, not the man for her.
She remembered all too well the early years of her own life when, as an unwanted child, she’d been shuffled from foster home to foster home. Until she was twelve, and Elsie and Jonah Evans had appeared out of nowhere to adopt her. She’d been grateful, had come to love them dearly and had cared for them until they’d passed on. Little Annie was lucky. She might have a mother who didn’t want her, but she had a father who adored her.
“As for my learning how to take care of my daughter,” Sam continued, “I’m game. That is, if you’re still willing to teach me what I need to know.”
Willing to take care of Annie when I fell in love with her the moment she smiled at me? You bet!
But how was she going to handle Annie’s father?
A glance at miniscule lips sucking a tiny hand settled the problem. At least for the moment, Laura thought, grateful for the diversion. “Now that Annie’s comfortable, it’s time to feed her.”
When Sam looked lost, she rummaged through the baby’s diaper bag. “Any formula in here, or was the baby being breast-fed?”
He shook his head. “Knowing Paige, I doubt it. She wasn’t around that much between flights. Actually her mother helped take care of the baby. As for any formula being in the bag, I haven’t the foggiest notion. I didn’t have time to look before you came to our rescue. Which reminds me,” he went on, “I forgot to thank you for taking us in.”
Laura sat back on her heels and regarded Sam with a raised eyebrow. “Just how old is Annie? I need to know so I can take care of her properly.”
“Five, maybe six months.”
“You’re not sure?”
He tried to look innocent and felt defensive at the same time. “I was on assignment when she was born. Okay, okay,” he added when she continued to stare at him in disbelief, “I’d say maybe six months.”
Laura went back to rummaging in the diaper bag. “There has to be baby cereal around here someplace, unless Annie’s not eating solids yet.”
“Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know that, either.”
He looked so lost Laura decided maybe she’d been too hard on him. “Not to worry. From Annie’s healthy appearance, I’d say someone took good care of her.”
She gathered Annie in her arms, nestled her against her chest and brushed the baby’s velvet cheek with her lips. Murmuring softly, she grabbed the diaper bag and gestured to Sam’s duffel. “Maybe you’d like to get cleaned up while I take Annie into the kitchen and find out just what we do have in here.”
“I’d be mighty grateful to get out of these wet clothes.” He gestured to his wet shirt and soaking jeans, and shrugged helplessly.
Laura’s gaze focused on a shirt so wet it was transparent. Under it, wide shoulders, a muscular chest and dark-brown curls were as visible as in an artist’s rendition. She didn’t dare look below his waist.
“No problem,” she said nonchalantly. “Go on upstairs and take the first room on the right. If you don’t have everything you need in your duffel bag, check the closet.”
Sam halted in midstride. “You’re married?”
“No,” Laura answered. “The clothing belonged to my dad. I’ve never gotten around to packing it up and giving it away.”
Sam muttered his thanks and fled temptation as quickly as his bare feet would take him. The sight of Annie in the ranch owner’s arms hit him where it hurt. Turned his thoughts to early dreams of a warmhearted wife and children of his own. Before his world caved in on him.
The look in Laura’s eyes reminded him he was on probation as a father. Maybe as a man, too.
Considering the situation, he might be better off out of sight. At least until he’d cleaned up, rescued his boots and was able to take charge again.
The bedroom she’d directed him to appeared to be some kind of dormitory. A kid’s dormitory, judging from the size of the trio of bunk beds and the rest of the furniture. Footlockers under the beds took the place of dressers. One small chest of drawers was in a corner with a brass lamp on it. The beds were covered with handmade quilts, freshly starched green-and-white curtains hung on the windows, and a large hooked rug covered the floor. From the look of the room, Laura must be expecting the campers she’d mentioned.
The child-size bunk beds were definitely not intended for a six-foot-two-inch man. Unless he curled into a pretzel shape and let his legs hang over the edge. A bunk might be okay for Annie, if she didn’t turn over and topple off.
Between the too-short bunk bed and worrying about Annie, how in hell was he going to get any sleep tonight?
Through an open door, he caught a glimpse of a bathroom. Good, he thought as he shucked his damp clothing down to his shivering skin. A long hot shower was just the ticket. Cleaned up and with his boots on, he could face the lady rancher on equal terms.
In the bathroom an old-fashioned claw-foot tub greeted him. The sink was of the same vintage, maybe thirty years old or more. The shower was over the tub and enclosed by a plastic shower curtain. At least the tub was man-size, Sam mused gratefully as he stepped into the tub and let hot water run over him.
To his surprise, he found his boots, cleaned and shined, just inside the door when he came back into the bedroom. Room service? He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe his stay at the ranch was going to be more enjoyable than he’d thought.
He rummaged in his duffel for clean jeans and a fresh shirt. Once dressed, he took the stairs two at a time and headed for the sounds coming from the kitchen.
Annie was sitting on a stack of pillows. A large kitchen towel around her middle bound her firmly to the rungs of a kitchen chair. Her little hands were waving in the air, and milk dripped from her chin. Laura was laughing and waving a spoon to catch the baby’s attention. Sure enough, an enchanted Annie’s lips parted.
One swoop, another, then plop, the cereal went into Annie’s open mouth. Beside them, the alert mutt stood with his tongue hanging out, his tail wagging. From the expectant look in his eyes, Sam expected kindhearted Laura to give the dog his turn.