Ranger's Baby Rescue

by Lara Lacombe

  And speaking of underwear, what was his status in that department? She sneaked a glance in his direction, watching as he pulled his own clothes from another bag. A couple of pairs of boxer shorts landed on the pile, answering her question.

  He looked up, caught her watching him. He lifted one brow in interrogation, then lowered it as awareness passed between them. The corner of his mouth curved up, his blue eyes growing warm. He glanced down, then back up to her face. Emma realized she was clutching the package of underwear to her chest and dropped it like a burning coal. Matt grinned.

  “I hope those will work,” he said. “You didn’t strike me as a thong person.”

  “You’re right about that,” she replied. He was having entirely too much fun teasing her—it was time she got some of her own back. “But I usually don’t go for the briefs, either.”

  “Oh?”

  She shook her head, leaning forward a bit as if she were about to impart a close secret. “I’m a bikini-cut kind of girl.”

  Matt’s smile faded as his eyes took on a faraway look. He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I can see that.” His voice was a bit husky, and it was Emma’s turn to grin.

  “I’m sure you can,” she said sweetly. She folded everything into a neat pile. It felt good to flirt with Matt, even if only for a moment. A nice reminder of what normal felt like, or could feel like, if she found someone worth flirting with. Maybe when this was all over, they could take things up a notch...

  Matt cleared his throat. “Would you like to take a shower?” He held up another bag, heavy with what she assumed were toiletries. “I can play with Christina while you take some time for yourself.”

  His offer made her knees wobble. A hot shower sounded like heaven. It would feel so nice to wash the fear-sweat stink from her skin, to put on fresh clothes. “You really don’t mind?” she said, already edging toward the bathroom.

  “Not at all.” He passed her the bag and sat on the bed next to Christina. “We’ll be fine. There’s lots to play with out here.” He reached for a little ball and rolled it toward Christina, who smiled up at him.

  Emma stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. Even though Christina liked Matt, it wasn’t uncommon for her to fuss when Emma had to leave her. Fortunately, Matt’s distraction seemed to have worked, as it remained blessedly quiet in the room.

  It didn’t take long for the water to heat up. Emma stripped down and stepped under the spray, stifling a groan as the heat worked on her aching muscles. The stress of the last few days weighed heavily on her, from the hikes in the park to the near-constant tension she’d been feeling since last night. She was sore all over, exhausted in both body and mind. But knowing her daughter was safe gave her a small sense of peace. As long as Christina was okay, Emma could bear any number of difficulties.

  Her mother’s ears picked up a quiet cry from the room. Apparently Matt’s luck had run out. She hurried to rinse off and turned off the shower, grabbing a towel as she stepped out.

  It was quiet in the room again, but she knew from experience it might not last long. Emma dried off and dressed quickly, then opened the door and stopped short.

  Matt was standing with his back to her, swaying from side to side as he held Christina. He spoke to her in a low, soft voice, his words slightly muffled but still audible from Emma’s spot in the bathroom doorway.

  “Did I tell you about the little boy I once knew?” he said. “You remind me of him. Fisher.”

  Emma knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but Matt’s words kept her rooted in place. Who was Fisher? And what had happened to him?

  “You’re a little older than he was,” Matt continued. “But you’re just as sweet. His eyes were brown, though, not blue like yours.”

  Emma’s heart began to melt as she listened. It was clear Matt cared for Fisher, whoever he was. No wonder he was so good with Christina—he had experience with babies.

  “I think you two probably would have liked each other,” he said. “He loved it when I would rock him like this.”

  Christina cooed happily. “I know,” Matt said. “They didn’t teach me this in the army. I had to figure it out on my own. But Fisher helped me, and now you’re getting the benefits.”

  The baby continued to babble. “I do miss him,” Matt said, continuing his one-sided conversation. “A lot.”

  Emma’s heart broke for Matt. Had Fisher been his son? She wanted to know what had happened to the child, but she didn’t want to cause him more pain by asking. It was clear the child wasn’t part of his life now. No wonder he seemed so distant at times; if Emma had lost Christina for good, she wouldn’t be able to function, much less be around another baby.

  Matt continued to talk to Christina, but Emma had heard enough. She felt like the worst kind of snoop, as if she’d cheated this information out of Matt. He certainly hadn’t meant for her to learn about Fisher. She needed to stop this before he inadvertently revealed more of his secrets.

  She quietly closed the bathroom door, then made a show of opening it loudly. “Christina,” she sang out as she walked into the room. “Mommy’s back.”

  Matt turned to face her, his cheeks a little pink. “I had to pick her up,” he said. “She started getting unhappy.”

  “That’s okay,” Emma said, reaching up to catch her daughter, who was leaning toward her. “Looks like you had things under control.”

  “For a moment, anyway,” Matt replied. He ran a hand through his hair, watching Christina as Emma snuggled her close. The longing was back in his eyes, and now Emma knew why.

  “Do you want to grab a shower?” she offered.

  He shook himself a bit, and she could tell he’d been lost in thought. “That sounds great,” he said. “Thanks.”

  She watched him walk away, more curious than ever. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who knew the pain of loss. At least she could comfort herself with the knowledge that part of Chris lived on in her daughter. If Matt’s son had died, he was left with nothing but memories.

  She wanted to know his story, to learn more about his life. Maybe she could convince him to share it with her. He might not want to talk about it, but then again, there was a chance he wanted to open up about his past. His memories were probably in the front of his mind, thanks to being around Christina. Talking sometimes helped. Perhaps he was ready.

  It was worth a try.

  * * *

  Matt stepped out of the bathroom, running the towel over his head to dry his hair. The shower had felt good and helped reset his mind. Holding Christina had been a powerful reminder of Fisher, and he missed the little guy now more than ever. For the millionth time, he wished things had turned out differently. But despite his attachment to the boy, he knew he’d made the right choice. He never would have been able to make a life with Jennifer after her lies. It just seemed karmically unfair that her deceit had cost him everything.

  Emma glanced up, finger to her lips. He followed her gaze to the bed and saw Christina’s sleeping form stretched out on the mattress. He nodded and made his way over to the other bed. She held up the remote and at his nod, switched on the television and turned the volume down. Matt arranged the pillows against the headboard and leaned back. Emma climbed up next to him, settling into the spot at his side. She flipped through the channels, settling on reruns of a recent sitcom.

  “Okay?” she whispered.

  “Works for me,” he said softly.

  They sat there in companionable silence, enjoying the show. It was such a normal, domestic activity, the kind of thing couples all over the world did every day. But to Matt, the moment was special. It was a treat to sit next to Emma, to spend time with her, even though they weren’t talking.

  He faced the television, but his senses were tuned to her. Focusing on the soft cadence of her breathing, he felt the vibration of the headboard when her shoulders shook with suppressed l
aughter at a particularly funny moment. She smelled clean from the shower, and he imagined her skin was soft and warm.

  “How long will she sleep?”

  “Usually a couple of hours,” Emma said. “But all bets are off since she didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “You should nap, too,” he suggested.

  “Maybe I will,” she replied. “What about you?”

  Is that an invitation? What he wouldn’t give to snuggle up next to Emma and sleep. Or not. He was tired, but there were other, more enjoyable ways to pass the time. But he’d promised himself he would keep his distance and sleeping with Emma, even in the most literal sense of the word, was not going to help him in that regard.

  “I’m going to keep an eye out. I’ll rest later.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. She smiled at him, wriggling down until her head was resting on one of the pillows. “Thanks,” she whispered. She scooted away from him, turning on her side to present him with her back. A moment later, her breathing took on a deep, even rhythm, and he knew she was out.

  Matt turned back to the TV, determined to focus on the show and not the woman lying next to him. But his eyes kept straying, glancing over to watch her as she slumbered.

  Don’t be a creep, he told himself. Emma trusted him to look after her and her daughter, not act like a stalker. It was difficult to ignore her, though; she was the first woman he’d shared a bed with in a long time.

  Even if it was only in a platonic sense.

  Matt crossed his arms and closed his eyes, determined to keep his thoughts on the right track. It shouldn’t be that hard to pretend that she wasn’t there—she was quiet and still, practically a part of the bedspread. Still, his awareness of her didn’t fade. With a mental sigh, he turned his thoughts to something more mundane: listing the species of birds found in Big Bend.

  Great blue heron... Red-tailed hawk... American kestrel...

  * * *

  Matt woke with his nose buried in Emma’s hair and his arm around her torso.

  What the—?

  His first instinct was to pull back, but he checked the impulse. Emma’s body was relaxed and warm against him, her back snug against his chest, her legs bent and molded to his. He felt the even rise and fall of her chest and knew she was still asleep. Why, then, had he woken up?

  He heard the soft sounds of Christina’s breathing behind him as she continued napping. The room was otherwise quiet, with the still, peaceful air that accompanied slumber. It was a nice change after the tension of their drive to the hotel. He’d tried to put on a brave face for Emma’s sake, but in truth, he’d been worried the traffickers would find them. As the hours had passed with no sign of the men, his worry had faded, as well. Now, as he lay in bed with Emma in his arms, he could almost pretend the threat was gone.

  How long had he been asleep? He couldn’t see the clock on the bedside table; didn’t care enough to move, either. He certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially after telling Emma he’d stay awake to watch over her and her daughter.

  Nice job, he thought sarcastically. He’d grown soft since leaving the army. A few years ago, he would have never fallen asleep while on guard. If his buddies could see him now, he’d never hear the end of it.

  Emma stirred in her sleep. Matt froze, his mind racing. Was she waking up? He needed to move before she did—otherwise, she might get the wrong idea. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was trying to cop a feel while she was unconscious.

  He carefully lifted his arm, then began to inch backward, putting space between their bodies. The loss of contact made him cold, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

  Just as he made it over to the other side of the bed, Emma rolled to face him. Her brown eyes were open, her gaze alert. She was awake then, had been for a while it seemed. Why hadn’t she moved away? His thoughts raced, trying to puzzle out the implications of her actions, or lack thereof. She studied him for a few seconds, and he got the impression she was doing some sort of mental calculation.

  “Where are you going?” she whispered.

  Matt could feel his cheeks burning. “Nowhere,” he said softly. “I just didn’t want to bother you.”

  “You weren’t.” She scooted across the bed until they were only a few inches apart. This close, he could see the subtle flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

  “What are you doing?” His heart began to pound at her proximity. Waking up to find himself accidentally holding her was one thing; having her seek him out was another.

  “Snuggling,” she said. “I’m cold.”

  “Let me get you a blanket.” He had to move away from her or he was going to do something they might both regret.

  Disappointment flashed in her eyes as he drew the bedspread across her body. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Matt shook his head. “It’s okay. Body heat is the best way to get warm.” He knew he should get up and leave the bed, but he didn’t want to break this connection between them. Right now, with the soft glow of the television washing over them and the gentle sound of the baby’s breathing in the bed next to them, he felt content. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was on vacation with his family. It was a special kind of torture, but he savored it nonetheless.

  “Do you think Detective Randall will call soon?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but they were so close he heard her clearly.

  “I hope so,” he replied softly. The sooner the police stepped in to keep Christina and Emma safe, the sooner he could return to his normal life.

  Except frozen TV dinners and weekends spent doing laundry didn’t hold much appeal.

  “I wonder...” She trailed off, looked away.

  “What?”

  “I wonder if they caught up to Joseph.” She met his eyes, her expression apologetic. “I can’t forgive him for what he did to me, but he’s still my brother.”

  “I know,” he said. “You don’t have to explain it to me.” Against his better judgment, he ran his hand along the outside of her arm. “Family is family. Love doesn’t switch off, even though you might want it to.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “That’s exactly it. I’m so angry with him, but I don’t want him dead.”

  “He’s probably fine,” Matt said.

  “You think so?” He saw the hope in her eyes and nodded.

  “I do.” He wasn’t saying that just to make her happy. Weasels like her brother tended to land on their feet, though he didn’t want to explain it in quite those terms. “He’s got street smarts,” he said instead.

  “I suppose.” She sounded a little subdued, so he tried to change the subject.

  “So tell me,” he said, smiling at her, “what does a nurse do for fun?”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “This nurse doesn’t do anything exciting. Between work and Christina, I don’t have the time or energy for fun.”

  Sympathy welled in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad about her life. He’d simply wanted to know more about her. “Sorry,” he said, feeling mildly embarrassed. “I should have known. Of course you work all the time, in one way or another.”

  Sadness flickered across her face. “Pretty much. I used to have friends, but once I had Christina, I didn’t have time to go out anymore. They understood at first, but eventually they stopped asking me.”

  “Doesn’t sound like they were very good friends,” he observed. Matt felt a surge of anger on her behalf, unable to understand how these anonymous individuals could leave Emma when she needed them most.

  “It’s not their fault,” she said. “They were all married, or about to be, with no kids. After Chris died, they didn’t really know how to talk to me. I think they were afraid of saying or doing something to upset me. And then when I had the baby, they really couldn’t relate to me
anymore. At that point, I was so overwhelmed I didn’t know how to connect with them either.”

  “They’re still jackasses,” he said.

  She laughed softly. “Thanks. I think. But I’ve kind of gotten used to being alone.”

  Matt looked away, unable to meet her eyes. He could relate to her solitude all too easily. He’d fallen into a routine of work-errands-sleep, which didn’t leave much room for a social life. It was funny, though; until meeting Emma, the lack of company hadn’t bothered him much. Now? He felt an acute sense of loneliness and a longing for connection.

  “I know what you mean,” he said softly. “I’m not exactly a party animal either.”

  She was quiet a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I have a confession to make.”

  He looked up, surprised at the sheen of vulnerability in her eyes. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her shoulder. “What is it?”

  Emma swallowed, and he got the impression she was gathering up her courage. “I like you. And not just because you’re helping me. You’re the first person I’ve wanted to learn more about in a long time.”

  Her words sent an electric tingle through his limbs. A bubbly sense of anticipation filled his stomach, as if he’d just downed a bottle of champagne. He leaned a bit closer, unable to keep the smile from his face. “I feel the same way about you,” he said.

  “You do?” She inched toward him, her lips curving up.

  “Yeah. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it, but it hasn’t worked.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” Her tone was teasing, but he could tell she was curious.

  “It didn’t seem right, given the circumstances. I figured my feelings are the last thing you need to deal with now.”

  She hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. She settled her palm on his chest, just above his heart. Her hand was warm through the fabric of his shirt, her touch soft but impossible to ignore. “Or maybe you’re exactly the kind of distraction I need.”