A Texas Soldier's Family

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Sometimes.” Hope set the dials, switched on the washer, then left the room before being with him in the small space revved up her latent desire and them falling into each other’s arms again. “Like when we’re driving somewhere and I can’t stop until we get there. Although,” she added, continuing into the kitchen to help herself to one last glass of milk before bed, “if Max has to wait more than five minutes for me to be able to stop and get him out of his car seat, the motion of the vehicle usually lulls him to sleep.”

  Garrett surprised her by pouring himself a glass of milk, too. “So, even when you do have to drive a little longer than Max would like, it’s not so bad.” He stepped into the pantry, emerging with a bag of gourmet butter cookies.

  Hope accepted one. “For either of us.” Keeping her voice low, so as not to wake anyone, she stepped out onto the front porch of the bunkhouse. There, she could hear Max if he cried.

  The night was warm and breezy, the velvety black Texas sky was sprinkled with stars surrounding a brilliant yellow quarter moon.

  Leaning against a porch post, she looked over at Garrett, who seemed to be enjoying the late summer evening on the ranch as much as she was.

  His gaze roved the messy confines of the knot on the top of her head. “Have you heard from your nanny?”

  Aware she hadn’t done a very good job of putting her hair up in an elastic band before she’d nursed Max the last time, Hope set her glass on the rail. Determined to appear at least a little more professional, and less Mommy On Vacation, she reached up and shook her hair out, combing it with her fingers as best she could.

  “Mary Whiting? Yes. She emailed me this afternoon. Her mom’s heart surgery was successful,”

  Which was really great—for Mary and her family.

  “But it’s going to be at least a six-to eight-week recuperation. And Mary is going to stay with her family to help out.”

  Which was really bad—for her and Max.

  “Can you get another nanny?”

  “The agency is already sending me candidate profiles for an interim replacement.”

  He came near enough she could feel his body heat. “But...?”

  Ignoring the melting sensation in her tummy, Hope lifted a shoulder. “Mary’s going to be hard to replace, even temporarily. She was perfect with Max. He hasn’t bonded with anyone so readily except yo—uh...er...”

  Oh, darn, had she really almost said that?

  Apparently, judging by the supreme masculine satisfaction emanating from him, she had.

  * * *

  DELIGHTEDLY TRACKING THE flush that started in her chest and crept up to her face, Garrett palmed the center of his chest. “Me?”

  She thought about trying to deny it but realized that was pointless. “Surely you noticed how much Max loves it when you hold him...”

  Garrett shrugged. “I love holding him, too.”

  That said, he gazed at her lips. Her breath caught as he took her glass. Set it aside. Bent his head.

  The next thing Hope knew she was all the way against him. His arms were wrapped around her. Their mouths were fused.

  If anything, this kiss was sweeter than the first they had shared.

  Shorter, too.

  He drew back. Enough light poured out from the interior of the house that she could see the desire glimmering in his eyes.

  She had sure as heck felt it in his kiss.

  Her chest rose and fell as she tried to find the will to admonish him, but the words just wouldn’t come. So she did the only thing she could. She picked up her glass and disappeared into the house and then her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Garrett knew he was pushing the boundaries Hope had set. But with only a few days to convince her they had something worth pursuing, he had kissed her, anyway.

  Felt her respond.

  And knew all he had to do was continue getting to know her—and her adorable little son—and let the rest of the situation play out. Go from there.

  In the meantime, they all needed sleep, so he headed to bed.

  He was awakened at one thirty in the morning, when Max cried.

  “Meh...meh...meh...”

  Which meant, Garrett knew now, Max was hungry.

  The house fell silent once again.

  Which meant Hope was nursing.

  Two hours later, Max woke again, demanding to be fed. Eventually the house grew quiet.

  At five thirty, Max woke for the third time in six hours. “Meh...meh...meh...” And this time, he wouldn’t stop.

  Garrett lay in bed, wondering if he should offer to help, or stay put and let Hope deal with it as expertly as she usually did.

  The sound of the front door opening and a crying Max being carried outside had him vaulting out of bed.

  He joined Hope and the baby in the yard.

  She was standing with her hand on the car door, tears streaming down her face. And still an apparently hungry—and healthy—Max cried. “Meh, meh, meh.”

  “What’s going on?” Garrett asked, gathering the infant into his arms.

  Hope was still in her menswear-style pajamas, which were buttoned crookedly up the front, her hair a tousled mess. She had her keys but no purse.

  And the tears continued to spill from her eyes. “Max wants to nurse again,” she sobbed softly, “and my breasts are dry!”

  He could see where that was a problem, a big one, for both mother and child. Resisting the urge to take Hope in his arms, along with Max, and hold them both close, he asked, “So what’s the plan?” Obviously, she had one.

  Hope let out a shuddering breath and ran both her hands through her hair. Her chest rose and fell with each agitated breath. “To drive him back and forth on the ranch until he falls asleep again. Or I make more milk.” She gestured helplessly. “Whichever comes first.”

  The physician in him rose to the challenge. He met and held her eyes. “I have a better plan. Why don’t you go inside and get dressed?”

  Chapter Six

  Ten minutes later, a fully dressed Hope climbed into the back of the SUV next to her intermittently wailing son. Garrett slipped his phone into the pocket of his shirt and settled behind the wheel. From the doorway, Lucille and Adelaide, who had been awakened by all the ruckus, waved.

  Embarrassed that she was turning out to be so inept a mother, at a time when she most needed to be at her best, Hope drew a deep breath.

  She knew she shouldn’t need a man in her life. And she didn’t. But it was sure nice to have Garrett here right now. Even better that he was a doctor.

  “You’re sure we should take Max to the emergency room?” she asked, as he started the drive to town. She couldn’t help but worry that she was overreacting, as she had a tendency to do when it came to her twelve-week-old son.

  Yet Max’s continued distress, his persistent crying, his absolute refusal to take his pacifier was real. As was the lack of milk in her breasts, the soreness of her tender nipples. Although none of that was a surprise, given how often he had been nursing in the last thirty-six hours.

  Garrett nodded confidently.

  He had taken the time to brush his teeth and splash some water on his face, as had she. He hadn’t shaved, and the rim of beard on his face gave him a ruggedly handsome look.

  “Lacey McCabe is the best pediatrician in the area. She agreed to meet us there, before her rounds. Make sure there’s nothing wrong.”

  “But you’re a physician. Can’t you tell?” Put my mind at ease right now!

  He cast her a brief, consoling look in the rearview mirror. “I’m an internist who specializes in traumatic injuries—and recovery—in soldiers. Max needs a pediatrician, and although it might be able to be handled over the phone, Lacey and I both agreed it would be better if he was seen.�
��

  Hope couldn’t argue with that.

  Plus, she appreciated Garrett’s protectiveness toward her son, which mirrored her own.

  “Besides,” he continued in a raspy growl. Finding the aviator sunglasses he’d hooked in the opening of his shirt, he slipped them on, obscuring his gorgeous blue eyes from view. “I’m emotionally involved.”

  Just that suddenly, something came and went in the air between them. The slightest spark of hope of all-out romance.

  Hope gave Max’s pacifier yet another try. To her relief, this time her son accepted it and began to suckle, his little lips working furiously.

  Needing to understand exactly what Garrett meant by “emotionally involved,” and appreciating the blissful silence that fell in the interior of her SUV, Hope asked, “You mean with Max?”

  Garrett’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His voice dropped another notch. “With both of you.” Oblivious to the leaping of her heart, he kept his attention on the road. “A smart doctor never treats those he is close to—it’s too easy to let your feelings get in the way and overlook something you don’t want to see.”

  Like what? Hope wondered, feeling the weight of his concern.

  “Then this could be serious?” she probed nervously, as Max abruptly spit out his pacifier and continued his meh meh meh...albeit a little more softly and a lot more hoarsely.

  She saw Garrett’s lips tighten in the rearview mirror, but when he spoke it was with a physician’s calm. “Yes, but there’s a much higher chance it’s not. Still, with a child this young, it’s just best not to take any chances.”

  Hope nodded and turned her attention back to her son, doing everything she could think to soothe him, but nothing worked. Not the touch of her hands, the motion of the vehicle or her voice. Not even the relaxing music when Garrett turned on the stereo. Max fussed the entire way, his hoarse cries breaking her heart—to the point that she was wiping away tears herself.

  Finally, they pulled into the emergency entrance of the Laramie Community Hospital and parked in a slot designated for ER patients. Her breasts aching—and empty—Hope struggled to pull it together. She was not going to let Max down even more. She was not going to cry.

  “We’ll get this taken care of in no time. Just hang in there,” Garrett said, his voice a tender caress.

  He leaped out to assist.

  Unfortunately, by the time Hope got Max out of his car seat he was in full temper, arching his back and wailing at the top of his lungs. Hoping Garrett could calm him, Hope handed her son over, then emerged from the car herself.

  To her chagrin, Max didn’t appear to want either of them to hold him. So Hope settled him back in her arms. Worse, his wails sounded all the louder in the early morning quiet of the emergency room.

  Luckily, they had staff waiting for them.

  To her surprise, the nurse approaching them looked familiar, except her hair was different. Longer.

  “I’m Bess Monroe’s twin, Bridgett Monroe,” the woman said, apparently used to the confusion. She grabbed a clipboard and pen as they passed the admitting desk. “We’re both nurses here. I usually work in the hospital nursery, but Dr. McCabe asked me to come down for this. So...” Bridgett smiled, assessing their trio. “You’re Hope Winslow and this indignant little fella is Max?”

  “Right.”

  Bridgett turned to their gallant escort. “And you’re the Dr. Garrett Lockhart I spoke with on the phone?”

  Garrett nodded his greeting, abruptly looking all confident, capable military physician. “Affirmative.”

  “Nice to meet you, Doc. Did you want to come back to the exam area or stake out a place in the waiting room?”

  It took Hope no time at all to decide the answer to that. “I’d like him with us.” She paused, wondering belatedly if she had overstepped, and searched his eyes. “Is that okay?”

  Looking as though there was no place else he would rather be, Garrett volunteered, “I can hold him while you fill out the paperwork.”

  Together they went into the exam room. While Hope answered the questions on the hospital intake forms, Garrett propped Max up on his shoulder and walked him back and forth, whispering soft, soothing words in his ear all the while.

  Max rested his head on Garrett’s big shoulder, his fussing finally beginning to lessen. Seconds later, Dr. Lacey McCabe walked in. The petite, silvery blond pediatrician introduced herself, then asked Garrett to put Max on the exam table. Bridgett stepped in to help undress the infant and assisted with the physical exam. When she had finished, Lacey swaddled Max in an ER blanket and handed him to Hope for comforting. Stethoscope still wrapped around her neck, Lacey pulled up a stool and indicated for them to get comfortable, too. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Hope settled on the gurney, Max in her arms. Garrett stood close beside her while she brought the pediatrician up to date.

  Lacey listened while the nurse typed into a computer tablet. “And up to now you’ve been feeding on demand?”

  “Yes.” Hope was glad Max had quieted, at least temporarily, now that he was back in her arms, his pacifier in his mouth.

  “And that’s worked well for you?” Dr. McCabe continued. “His weight gain has been on track?”

  About that, Hope could brag. “It’s been perfect.”

  “But otherwise, you’ve been able to keep up your milk supply?”

  Hope felt a surge of regret. “Until I went back to work earlier this week.”

  “How has that been going?” the doctor asked empathetically.

  Not nearly as great as I’d like it to be.

  Garrett reached over and squeezed her shoulder. Appreciating his support, Hope leaned into his touch while she answered the pediatrician’s questions. “It’s complicated,” she said finally.

  Understanding shone in Lacey’s gaze. “Stressful?”

  “Um, yes...and no. It just sort of depends on what is going on, like in all jobs.”

  “But the last few days in particular...?” Dr. McCabe prodded.

  The heat of embarrassment welled in Hope’s chest. “Have been pretty stressful,” she admitted reluctantly. “What with Max’s nanny getting called away on a family emergency, just when we needed her most.” If it hadn’t been for Garrett during the last couple of days, she honestly didn’t know how they would have coped.

  Lacey nodded. “Okay. Well, there’s a good reason why you and Max are out of sync. And, just so you know, it happens to all new moms when they make the transition from maternity leave to work. It does get better.”

  “Thank heaven.” Hope sighed, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears again. “Because I’m not sure I could take it if Max continued to want to nurse every two hours instead of every three or four!”

  “Unfortunately, that may not happen for a while,” Lacey warned her. “Max is in a growth spurt. And like all healthy males, he wants what he wants when he wants it.”

  Everyone in the room chuckled at the pediatrician’s joke, including Garrett.

  Hope met his eyes.

  He shook his head, grinning.

  A new spiral of warmth slid through her.

  Humor, she realized, could do a lot to get them through. Well, that and a little romance...

  “So, there are two options,” Dr. McCabe continued, bringing Hope back to the problem at hand. “One, is to tough it out and let your innate maternal response to your baby’s distress push your body into producing more milk. That usually takes a few days. The other is to keep nursing at a rate you feel comfortable with and supplement with formula to give your body a little break,” Lacey continued with a nonjudgmental practicality and compassion Hope really appreciated. “Which is what I did when my six daughters were young. I found combination feeding was the best of both worlds for me.”

  Lacey p
aused to let Hope consider.

  “But it’s really up to you, Hope. Both options are perfectly fine. It just depends on what you, as Max’s mother, want to do.”

  That was easy, Hope thought in relief. “I’d like to try the combination.”

  Lacey McCabe stood. “Okay, then how about we set you up with a day’s supply of formula until you can get to the pharmacy or grocery on your own. And in the meantime, Hope?” The pediatrician paused at the exam room door. “Be sure you drink enough fluids, take in enough calories and get plenty of rest. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

  “I second that,” Garrett said, as soon as the nurse and doctor had exited. He stroked Max’s head, paused to look deeply into Hope’s eyes, demonstrating once again what a good father—and husband—he would make someday.

  A thread of wistfulness swept through her.

  “And to that end,” he added gruffly, as her gratitude grew by leaps and bounds, “I’ll do whatever I can to assist you both.”

  * * *

  SHORT MINUTES LATER, Hope watched Max finish the bottle in no time flat.

  “And here I thought he might not like the taste of formula,” she murmured, turning her son upright to give him one last burp.

  Garrett, who had been texting his mom to let her know that Max was okay, put his cell phone back in his pocket. He shook his head fondly at both of them. “You know how it is when you’re really hungry...”

  She warmed at his lazy once-over. However, just because he was being exceptionally kind and considerate did not mean he was auditioning to be the man in her life. “Good point.” Flushing slightly, she put Max down and, while changing his diaper, drew a stabilizing breath and worked to keep up the witty repartee. “When you’re famished, anything tastes good.” And some things, like Garrett’s kiss, were amazingly good...

  She had to stop thinking this way.

  Letting her fatigue, and her current need to lean on someone’s strong shoulder, make more of their temporary friendship than there was.

  Garrett picked up the diaper bag and her purse. Some men would have looked ridiculous carrying both. The contrast only made him look more impossibly masculine. Sea-blue eyes twinkling, he held the door for her and Max. “Well, there are some things I don’t think I’d like, regardless.”