“I loved you, you know.”
His words knocked the breath out of her. Tears burned behind her eyelids, and she blinked to keep them from falling. “I loved you, too. It’s why I ended things when I did.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Do you know how much it hurt to walk away?”
“You didn’t have to.” Stepping forward, he brushed her cheek with his thumb.
She backed away on trembling legs, knowing all those emotions she’d fought so hard to control were bubbling to the surface, ready to spill over. “You don’t want a family. I do.”
“Having a family doesn’t need to be about kids.” The smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We could get a puppy or two, or maybe one of those cute little pot-bellied pigs if you want something to baby.”
She sighed. “You’re all about having fun, being impulsive, letting nothing tie you down. And there isn’t anything wrong with that. But I need an actual grown-up for a life partner, not a guy who never outgrew boyhood.”
His eyes flashed with a hint of anger. “Hey, I have responsibilities. When someone orders a bear or a moose or a freaking dinosaur, I deliver the finished product on schedule.”
“But you accept only enough work to survive on, leaving yourself plenty of free time to play.” When he opened his mouth, she held up her hand. “More power to you. Your life is a good one. For you. But I want more than having the man I love drop a distracted kiss on my forehead before he takes off on a two week backpacking trip.” She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “That would be fine once in a while, but you’re gone as often as you’re home. Babies weren’t our only sticking point, Cole.”
In the silence that followed her words, a scratch on the door grated down her spine like nails on a chalk board. Turning, she opened it and stepped back to let Tucker inside. His toenails clicked against the hardwood floor.
“I’m going now.”
He nodded, defeat dimming those compelling eyes. “Thanks for coming over.”
“You’re welcome. I guess I’ll see you on Monday when you drop Jackson off at the daycare.”
“Sure.”
Crossing the porch, she tilted her face up to the cool night breeze. But it couldn’t dry the tears sliding down her cheeks.
Chapter Three
Blood seeped from the cut on Jackson’s head and soaked his red curls. Cole pressed the dish cloth tighter to the wound and hushed the screaming baby, not an easy job when the sight of all that blood set his stomach rolling. Swallowing against the urge to puke, he pulled a fresh towel from the drawer and tied it in place with a length of twine. Holding tight to the squirming baby, he snatched up his keys and the packet of papers Andee had left for him and ran out of the house.
Thank God he’d fastened the car seat into place earlier. Before the entire day had gone to hell in a handbasket.
After strapping his nephew into the seat, he climbed in and gunned the engine, sending up a spray of gravel in the truck’s wake. Steering with one hand, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pressed a button and prayed. Miranda hadn’t picked up the last two times he’d called, and he hadn’t bothered leaving a message. Maybe the third time would be a charm.
“Cole?”
The breathless voice was prettier than birdsong.
“I need help.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I’m covered in dirt from working in the garden. You’re pushing the limits of my patience.”
“Jackson fell. I’m headed for the hospital, but that’s a forty-five minute drive.” He drew in a breath and forced the panic from his voice. “If the pad on the cut soaks through with blood, I can’t change it while I’m driving.”
There was a moment’s silence before she spoke. “Come get me.”
Her calm tone soothed his stretched nerves. The tires screeched as he made a sharp right turn onto Main Street, ignoring the stop sign. “I’ll be there in less than two minutes.”
“Did you call 911?”
“I figured I could get him to the hospital before an ambulance reached my place.”
“I’ll call now to alert them we’re on the way. Where’s he bleeding?”
“His head.”
Her breath caught. “Hang up and drive.”
He dropped the phone onto the seat next to him and made a hard left into Miranda’s neighborhood. Swerving to avoid a cocker spaniel, he lowered his speed a notch. His head throbbed with Jackson’s persistent screaming, but at least the kid hadn’t lost consciousness.
And the day had been going so well, too. They’d read two stories then played with trains on the porch, all with no crying or commotion.
Wearing dirt stained shorts and a grim expression, his angel of mercy stood at the end of her driveway. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she clutched a white box with a big red cross on it to her chest. Leave it to Miranda to come prepared, even at a moment’s notice. When he slowed the truck, she jerked open the door and jumped inside. Making a quick, three-point-turn, he headed toward the highway.
“He’s been crying non-stop. Is that good or bad?”
She climbed over the seatback into the small compartment in the rear where Jackson bellowed his misery. Cole gave her upended behind one quick glance before focusing his attention on the road. As long as they didn’t get stopped by a cop, he’d have them to the hospital in Amarillo in record time.
“Definitely good. The cut probably isn’t as bad as it looks. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot.” Her no nonsense tone softened. “Poor baby, does it hurt? We’ll have you fixed up in no time. Then I may have to whack your uncle over the head so he can find out how it feels. Isn’t that a good idea? I think so. Yes I do. That’s it, sweetie, no more crying. Let me get this poor excuse for a bandage off you and put on a real one.”
Cole grinned as the wailing quieted to soft sobs. Miranda could probably sooth an angry grizzly into behaving like a Teddy bear.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Looks like he’ll need a couple of stitches, but the gash isn’t as deep as I feared. He’s bled quite a bit, but it seems to be stopping.” She let out a long sigh. “A dishcloth and twine, seriously, Cole?”
“I couldn’t find any bandages, and I didn’t want him to bleed to death while I looked.”
“I guess you get points for ingenuity. How’s that, sweetheart?”
His heart leapt—until he realized she was talking to Jackson.
Rubbing his aching head, Cole gazed out across the flat prairie where fresh, spring grass sprouted amongst the withered remains left over from the previous season. All along the highway, huge, white windmills barely moved in the late afternoon air.
Finally, his racing pulse began to calm. It had been like one of those slow motion TV sequences—Jackson, rising on shaking legs, arms flapping as he tumbled down the porch steps, knowing he’d never reach his nephew in time despite a full out sprint. The sickening thunk when his head struck the sharp corner of the stair. He shuddered. Tucker had been the hero, scrambling to his feet when the baby squealed and toppled toward him, breaking his fall in the process.
Cole had only stepped away from the porch for a moment. Something about the moose’s hindquarters had looked a little off… He let out a shaking breath. The outcome of his inattention could have been tragic.
Anger simmered in his gut. Davis should never have put him in this position.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Jackson could have died or been brain damaged, and it’s all my brother’s fault.”
“How do you figure?”
The stench of stockyards assaulted his senses. Almost to Amarillo. He stepped a little harder on the gas pedal.
“Because he’s the idiot who left me in charge. I’ve half a mind to call him and demand they return home. Vacation be damned.”
Miranda snorted with laughter. “You’re right, you do have half a mind. Accidents happen. And while I’m certai
n you could have been more attentive, even the best parent or caregiver in the world lets their guard down once in a while.”
“Andee never let her son fall down the porch steps.”
“Is that what happened?”
“I only turned away for a minute.” He sighed again, long and loud. “We were actually having a pretty good day. The kid is entertaining at times.”
“They do have their charm.”
The heavy sarcasm in her voice didn’t irritate him—much. He exited the highway and tapped the steering wheel while he waited for a light to turn green. “I suppose if babies didn’t have a few redeeming qualities, the human race would have died out eons ago.”
He could almost hear her teeth grinding.
“Pull up in front of the ER doors. I’ll take him inside while you find a parking spot.”
“Sounds like a plan. Do you want the insurance information?” He braked to a stop in front of the big glass doors and waved the packet of papers. “It should be in here somewhere.”
She opened the rear door, squeezed past the car seat then turned to unstrap Jackson. When she glanced his way, her brows lowered. “You won’t be that far behind us, so I’ll let you handle the paperwork.”
“Fine.” The baby looked like the victim of a massacre with blood streaking his face and staining his white T-shirt an ugly shade of red. Cole’s pulse picked up speed as the poor little guy stared at him with sober eyes from the comfort of protective arms. “Got it.”
Without another word, Miranda hurried toward the glass doors. They slid open, and she disappeared inside. With shaking hands, he put the truck in gear and cruised through the parking lot until he found an empty slot. Once he turned off the engine, he rested his head on the steering wheel. The earlier rush of adrenaline had vanished, leaving him ready to drop. Too bad the evening was just getting started.
****
One look at Jackson and an intern—at least Miranda assumed he was an intern based on the fact the man-boy looked barely old enough to shave—garbed in surgical scrubs hurried them into a curtained cubicle. Of course, with all the commotion in the ER—an older woman covered in more blood than the baby had just been wheeled in on a stretcher surrounded by a bevy of attendants—Jackson was asserting his displeasure at the top of his lungs. More power to him if it attracted a doctor’s attention sooner.
“What happened?” The intern lifted the bandage and studied the wound with a critical eye before pressing the pad back into place. “Looks like the bleeding has almost stopped, but that laceration needs to be stitched.”
Miranda’s grip on Jackson tightened, and she kissed his matted hair when he whimpered. “He fell down some steps.”
The man gave her a sharp glance. “We’ll check him for signs of concussion. Any vomiting or drowsiness?”
She shook her head.
“Good. I’ll be back as soon as we get the patient next door stable. In the meantime, there’re forms to fill out.” He dropped a clipboard on the paper-covered exam table.
“His uncle will take care of it. Tall, good looking guy with dark hair and brown eyes, acting like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. Can you send him back here if you see him?”
A grin flashed before he whipped off the stained latex gloves and tossed them in the trash. “Will do.”
Playing patty-cake with Jackson to pass the time and drown out the noises from the next room over, she glanced up when the curtain shifted. “…in the oven for baby and me.” Her hands dropped. “You found us.”
Cole’s face was drawn with fatigue and—regret? Of course he was sorry about Jackson’s fall. Probably blamed himself even though she’d assured him it was just an accident. She’d have to possess a heart harder than a rodeo bull’s kick not to feel sorry for what he’d gone through, not to want to hold him in her arms and—
“I nearly had a coronary when equipment was wheeled into the cubicle just down the way and someone yelled clear…” His eyes glazed. “God in heaven.”
“Sit down before you fall on your face.” She patted the paper-covered vinyl on the other side of Jackson. “The doctor expressed some concern about concussion, but overall, I’d say he wasn’t too worried.” She frowned. “I hope that poor woman makes it.”
“So do I. The prayers I sent up when I thought it was Jackson in there should have pushed her to the front of the holy favor line.” He dropped down beside the baby. “The kid seems happy enough right now.”
“That’ll change when they stitch him up.” She set the clipboard on his lap. “Fill these out.”
With an eye roll, he uncapped the pen and started muttering. “Middle name? How am I supposed to know that?”
Her sympathy for his suffering dissipated. “He’s your nephew for crying out loud.”
“So.” He snapped his fingers. “William, after our dad.” Bending, he scribbled industriously before giving her another helpless look. “Birth date. I know it’s in May.”
“You really aren’t very family oriented. It’s the twelfth. I remember Andee mentioning it.” Picking up the packet of papers, she flipped through the pages. “Here’s his insurance info and immunization records. Andee made copies of everything, probably expecting some sort of catastrophe with you in charge.” Pulling the clipboard out of his loose grasp, she started filling in the blanks.
Jackson clapped his hands. “More.”
“Play with him.” She gave the command without looking up.
Cole hummed an off key version of the patty cake tune and high-fived his nephew. Unable to resist an emerging smile, she finished the paperwork while Cole and Jackson smacked each other’s palms. Was it her imagination or did the uncle actually appear to be having fun?
“Sign here.” She pointed and handed him the pen.
He scribbled an illegible scrawl at the bottom of the form.
Flipping the page, she pointed again. “Here and here, too.”
“Do they want a kidney while they’re at it?”
“No, but I donated your brain to science. That should keep the medical world guessing.”
“Cute.” He initialed in the three spots she indicated then handed the clipboard back. “Oh shit.”
“Huh?” Glancing up, her nose wrinkled as a noxious smell wafted through the cubicle. Jackson’s face was screwed into a look of supreme concentration. With a sigh, she glanced around the curtained room. “Did you bring in the diaper bag?”
Surprise then dismay flashed in his eyes. “Uh, I think I left it at home.”
“I guess in all the turmoil, it’s an understandable lapse. Maybe you could sweet talk one of the nurses at the front desk into finding a diaper for you. I’m sure they have them up in the obstetrics unit.”
He slid off the table with a big smile lighting his face. “Now, there’s a job in my area of expertise. No one, except maybe my buddy Chase, is better at charming women than I am.”
Her lips twitched. “The Amazon with a mullet should be a true test of your skills.”
“I think I’ll try the pretty, little blonde first.” He cast her a quick grin. “Back in a minute.”
In his absence, she made faces at Jackson. “What has your uncle been feeding you? I’ve never smelled anything so horrible outside the stockyards.”
The baby gurgled happily, apparently not concerned about sitting in a stinky pile of—
“They had one at the desk. Wipes, too.” Cole held out a plastic container and a diaper. “Here you go.”
She raised her hands, palms out. “I change enough diapers during working hours—where I’m paid. Go ahead.”
His pleading look had probably charmed plenty of women out of their panties. Miranda crossed her legs.
“I suck at it. Please.”
Drawing in a breath, she silently called herself a sucker, but finally relented. “Fine.” Laying Jackson on his back, she slid down his little blue jeans—and stared in utter disbelief. Silver duct tape wrapped around the disposable diaper in a diabolical pattern
. Maybe if she had some scissors… Lifting her chin, she met Cole’s gaze and raised one brow.
His cheeks reddened. “The diapers kept coming loose and falling off. Duct tape fixes everything.”
“Unbelievable.” With care, she unwrapped the baby and released the diaper. Grabbing a handful of wipes, she went to work on his bottom. “Cole, did you think to ask when the doctor would be back in to see Jackson?” She glanced up, and her eyes widened.
One hand covering his mouth, his throat worked dangerously fast.
“You aren’t going to be sick, are you?”
He took a few deep breaths and shook his head. “I’ve got this. I only puked the first time I changed him. It had run down his legs, and…” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
Shaking her head, she finished the clean-up, fastened the fresh diaper in place and redressed the baby. After carefully picking up the dirty diaper, she slid off the table. “Watch Jackson while I find someplace to dispose of this.”
He nodded then rested a hand on her shoulder. “Now I remember why I loved you so much.”
His tone made it clear he was joking, but the words packed a punch. Once she was safely outside the cubicle, she let out a breath. After asking the blonde nurse where to put the soiled diaper, she dropped it in a sealed metal container then paused near the sliding glass doors. Long shadows stretched across the parking lot as the day faded into evening. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and headed back toward the exam area, telling herself she would survive another hour or two of Cole’s company without doing irreparable damage to her heart.
The intern who’d looked at Jackson earlier waved from the far end of the corridor before hurrying toward her. “I’ll be in to stitch up the little guy in just a moment.”
“Did that poor woman—”
“She’s stable for now.”
With a weary smile, he strode away, and Miranda slipped through the cubicle’s curtain. Cole sat on the exam table, bouncing his nephew on his knee while the baby chortled and clapped. A queer little ache pinched her heart.
She cleared her throat. “The doctor will be here in a minute.”
Asking for Trouble Page 3
