by Cat Schield
“She’s still not happy,” he commented as soon as the last corner was tucked away, creating a cocoon.
“Maybe she just wants it to be tighter.”
“Do you want to give it a try?”
Lark shook her head. Their kiss was too fresh. Her body had yet to come down off the thrill. She couldn’t let him see how her hands trembled. “You’re doing great.”
He shot her a doubtful frown as he unwrapped Grace. Lark stood as close as she could to him without touching to observe his next attempt. Despite the lack of contact, energy arched across the distance between them, setting her skin to tingling.
“I think you could go a little tighter,” she offered, reaching out to demonstrate. Their hands brushed in passing, and the zap of contact caused her stomach muscles to tighten in reaction. She swallowed a gasp.
Fifteen minutes ago she’d decided to agree to his moving in. Now she wasn’t so sure. Living in such close quarters was bound to lead to more inconsequential physical contact. And then there was that kiss to consider. She could easily write off Keaton’s impulse as a reaction to the frustration of Grace’s disquiet, but it hadn’t been that sort of kiss. It had been tender and curious. He’d kissed Lark with focused deliberation as if that was the only thing on his mind. As if it had been on his mind for a while.
She trembled.
“I think we’ve finally got it right.”
At Keaton’s relieved words, Lark blinked and reoriented herself in the moment. The tight swaddle had done the trick. Grace had stopped crying and her mouth opened on a giant yawn.
“You did it.”
“We did it,” he corrected. “We’re a team, remember?”
For the first time she didn’t freeze up at his words. “A good team,” she agreed, scooping the sleepy infant into her arms.
“I’m feeling more confident that we can do this.” Keaton followed her to the couch where the bassinet waited.
“You weren’t before?”
“Not once she started crying and wouldn’t stop.”
Lark had begun having doubts way before they left the hospital. Taking care of her sister’s baby was a responsibility Lark didn’t take lightly. Add in Grace’s premature birth and the risks that accompanied such things, and the need for success grew proportionately more crucial.
“It’s been a long night,” Lark said, placing Grace in the bassinet before sitting beside her. After she’d confirmed that Grace slept on, Lark let her head fall back and closed her eyes.
“You do realize it’s only midnight.”
The cushion beside her dipped as Keaton joined her on the couch. The substantial differences in their weight caused him to sink deeper into the cushions and Lark slipped toward the resulting dip, reducing the distance between them. She kept her eyes closed and let her other senses come alive.
“That’s all?” she murmured, revived by the rhythm of her vigorous heartbeat.
His shoulder bumped against hers. He smelled like soap and baby powder from Grace’s last change. “She’s finally quiet.”
The sleeve of his crisp cotton shirt grazed across the top of her arms as he reached out to Grace. Sitting beside Keaton reminded Lark how long it had been since she’d let a man get close to her.
Although she’d had relationships in college and dated frequently the year she’d worked at Houston Methodist Hospital, since returning to Royal, Lark’s love life had been limited to a few first dates with men she’d met online.
“But is she sleeping?”
“Not yet.” His breath puffed against her temple.
She turned her head toward him and waited, wondering if he wanted to repeat their earlier kiss. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes. He was staring past her, gaze glued to a distant spot. Her lips parted as the longing for his kiss overwhelmed her. What would he do if she told him how she felt? Would he sweep her into his arms and drink deeply of her hunger or excuse the earlier kiss as a mistake?
Keaton withdrew his arm, and Lark’s practical nature reasserted itself. What was she thinking? She couldn’t get involved with Keaton. Look what had happened to Skye’s relationship with their parents when the truth had come out about her and Jake. If anything happened between Lark and Keaton, there would be no running away. Keaton’s life was the Holts’ ranch, and Lark hadn’t been happy living away from Royal. This was where she belonged. No, better that she and Keaton work together to take care of Grace and ignore whatever chemistry had sparked between them.
“You should move in.” The blunt declaration came out of nowhere and surprised Lark as much as it did Keaton.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. After tonight I can’t imagine doing this alone.”
“What about your parents? You know your father will object.”
“Too bad.” Annoyance smoldered in her gut. “If I can’t count on their help, they lose the right to criticize what I do to ensure Grace’s welfare.”
“I’ll bring my stuff by tomorrow. In the meantime, since this little lady is momentarily content, why don’t you run off to bed and grab what sleep you can?”
“What about you?”
“Your couch is pretty comfortable. I’ll just stretch out here.”
“You’re sure?” Lark was perfectly willing to keep him company. Perhaps too willing.
“Positive. Besides, you worked last night and no doubt are half-asleep already.”
“Okay, just for a little while. When she wakes for her next feeding, get me up.”
* * *
The road in front of Keaton’s truck blurred for a moment, forcing him to give his head a fervent shake. A giant yawn followed. Three days of hard labor at the ranch. Three evenings of caring for Grace. Three nights plagued by the temptation of Lark sleeping a dozen strides away.
Damn. He was worn, frazzled and restless.
Grace’s most difficult time of the day began as the sun went down. This was when she grew fussy and nothing they did seemed to satisfy her completely. That meant she didn’t want to eat despite being hungry. Which meant she wasn’t falling asleep after only half an hour of wakefulness. Tired and hungry, she grew more irritable by the second. And his inability to soothe her distress roused feelings of helplessness he’d never known before.
Lark wasn’t faring much better. During the day Grace had decided she liked being held while she slept, so Lark wasn’t free to take care of anything around the house. At first she resisted his suggestion that she needed a housekeeper to help, but on the third day after the laundry piled up and they’d eaten takeout three nights running, she’d caved to his insistence that she needed domestic assistance. Once Jen had started working, things had gone more smoothly with the household chores, but keeping Grace content remained a challenge.
Keaton’s respect for parents had grown during the last several days. He’d never imagined how much work went into taking care of a baby. It made a twelve-hour day in the saddle rounding up cattle seem like a ride on a merry-go-round.
If either of them had considered revisiting the kiss they’d shared that first night, it was lost in feedings, diapering, swaddling and soothing Grace. Maybe that was a good thing. The brief taste of her lips had been a mind-blowing surprise. Who would have guessed a simple kiss could ignite his senses? He’d been deaf and blind to everything but the incredible pliancy of her lips, the way her breath had caught, how she’d quivered at his touch.
Had he ever kissed a woman who’d responded to him with such genuine longing? It had stunned him. Left him wanting so much more. Keaton shifted his weight to ease the sudden heaviness in his loins. If just thinking about Lark aroused him, what would it be like to make love to her? Was it madness to consider it? Hadn’t enough trouble been caused by Jake falling in love with Skye? And what made him think that Lark was willing to risk a similar rift with her parents? She was far more practical and cautious than her sister. Less willing to make waves.
Look at how she’d struggled with her decision to allo
w him to help her with Grace and permit him to move in. If she hadn’t been desperate, he doubted she’d have accepted his assistance. She was far too worried about her father’s reaction.
Arriving at Lark’s house, Keaton fetched his latest purchase from the back of the pickup. It was a windup swing for Grace. His foreman had suggested it and Keaton had headed straight to the store. He hoped Grace would find it a suitable substitute for being held so Lark could get a break.
He noticed an eerie stillness to Lark’s house the moment he entered. For a second, his heart stopped. Because her premature birth meant Grace’s lungs hadn’t fully developed, Lark intended to keep her home unless absolutely necessary. Had something happened while he was at the ranch? Setting the box inside the foyer, he advanced into the living room. The succulent scent of roast beef struck him the same instant he spied Lark sacked out on the couch, a sleeping Grace splayed across her chest.
The adorable picture held him transfixed. Keaton had never imagined himself living with, much less marrying a woman. Every one he’d dated had satisfied his physical desires or matched him intellectually, but he’d never found the right balance. In three short days Lark had demonstrated the perfect combination of physical allure and mental acumen.
Keaton retreated to the kitchen and snagged a beer from the refrigerator. Twisting off the top, he drained half the bottle. He was tired. Not thinking straight. Why else would he have settled on the daughter of his family’s archenemy as his ideal match?
His gaze wandered back to Lark. Her right hand rested against Grace’s side, blocking the infant from accidentally sliding off. Not that it could happen. Grace was as limp and unmoving as a rag doll.
Behind him, a timer went off. The noise caused Lark to stir. Her eyes opened. She blinked a few times, then caught sight of Keaton.
“How long have you been home?” Not here, but home, as if she’d come to accept that her house was his, as well. At least for the time being.
“A couple minutes. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you.”
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “What time is it?”
“About five.”
Lark was struggling to sit up without disturbing Grace. Keaton set his beer on the counter and went to take charge of the baby. She didn’t wake as he transferred her to the crook of his arm.
“I know you feel more comfortable having Grace in your bedroom,” he began, broaching a subject that was loaded with land mines. He offered his hand in aid. “But I think you need to consider moving her into the nursery.”
“I like her sleeping in my room.” She let him pull her to her feet, but freed herself as soon as she was upright. “Having her clear across the house is just too far.”
“But I’ll be right next door.” He gazed down at the sleeping infant in his arms. Grace’s rosebud mouth puckered as if she were nursing. It was adorable. “I’ll have a monitor and I’m a light sleeper.” Keaton watched Lark grapple with his request and decided not to allow her too much room to think. “I know it drives you crazy that I have to go into your bedroom every time Grace needs a change.”
Her discomfort had been palpable the first night he’d officially moved in. She’d been twitchy throughout dinner and wouldn’t let Keaton near Grace even though she’d seen how capable he was the night before.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Besides, there isn’t enough space between the crib and the changing table. And there’s no room for her clothes.” Keaton had a hard time with the disorder. Things being out of place were his hot button. Jeb, his foreman, was used to it, but Keaton knew it drove a lot of the ranch hands crazy. “I’m going to bring someone in to paint the spare room a soft yellow. Grace isn’t sleeping in the crib at the moment. Let’s just move it and the changing table out of your room. Meanwhile she can continue to sleep in the bassinet.”
Lark looked as if she wanted to argue, but Keaton knew what he’d suggested made perfect sense. First he would get the nursery set up. Later he could work on convincing her that Grace should spend some of her nights there so Lark could get a full night’s sleep.
“Can we talk about this later,” Lark murmured. “I have to finish getting dinner ready.”
“It smells wonderful,” he said, willing to drop the matter for the moment.
Keaton was happy enough that he’d spoken his piece. Even if Lark didn’t agree to his plan, he’d already stated his intention and he would get the ball rolling.
“My friend Julie from the hospital went grocery shopping for me today and stuck around long enough for me to get the roast in. I couldn’t stomach another takeout meal.”
“Sounds great. Home-cooked meals have been rare for me since the tornado destroyed the ranch house.”
She opened the oven door and checked on the status of the roast. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on my cooking abilities.”
“If it tastes half as good as it smells, I’ll be happy.”
She shot him a suspicious look but discovered he was completely serious and visibly relaxed. “Do you mind holding Grace for a little while? I also baked a cake this afternoon, but I haven’t had a chance to frost it yet.”
Grace began to stir. “Not at all. I think she might be in need of a change. I’ll go take care of that.”
Grace’s furniture had been set up in what was supposed to be a small sitting area. The space was designed to hold a single chair and ottoman or a small writing desk. Keaton barely fit into the space between the changing table and the crib. The latter was being used to store diapers, clothes and toys that Grace would one day play with.
Below the crib were some of the items that Keaton had bought on his first shopping excursion. Lark had been so focused on Grace’s immediate needs she hadn’t gotten around to unpacking everything yet. As soon as he changed Grace, Keaton leaned down to poke through the bag. He recalled the saleslady had suggested a number of items in rapid-fire succession. Having no idea what they did or didn’t need for a baby, he’d bought everything she suggested. Now he pulled out an infant gym and some sort of wrap.
With Grace tucked against his chest, he carried both items back to the living room. From the kitchen came the sound of humming. He glanced toward Lark. She was completely focused on smoothing white icing onto a triple-layer yellow cake. Her pleasure in the task made it hard for him to look away. Only when Grace began to squirm did he switch his attention.
Since opening and assembling the infant gym was going to be impossible one-handed, Keaton sat down on the floor, stretched out his legs and settled Grace on his lap. The new perspective engaged her interest, and when she started to fuss, he bent his knees and bounced her a little until she calmed.
Once he had the gym mat placed on the floor and the various toys attached to the padded tubes that crisscrossed over the baby, he slipped Grace inside the structure and held his breath. A newborn’s ability to focus was limited to a range of twelve inches, but he wasn’t sure how that applied to preemies. Grace had been born some thirteen weeks earlier, but her adjusted age was closer to three weeks.
The bright-colored animals dangling above Grace were a huge hit. She gurgled in delight as she reached up and batted at a monkey. It swung wildly and Grace kicked in response. Keaton didn’t expect much of a reprieve, so he turned to the second item, the wrap. It was a long, infinity scarf that had been designed to snuggle the baby tight against the wearer, thus freeing the hands. For a baby like Grace, who didn’t want to be put down, it should enable Lark a little more freedom.
But first he had to figure out how to make it work. Like the swaddling, the trick was to manage all the folds of the fabric. After watching a video on his tablet, he used one of Grace’s stuffed animals for practice. The soft bunny was smaller than Grace, so he wasn’t sure how secure the wrap would keep her, but it would be worth a try.
“What are you wearing?”
Keaton looked up from tucking the toy bunny into the wrap and met Lark’s amused gaze.
His heart jumped at her relaxed expression. The lines of tension had faded from around her mouth, and the frown lines had smoothed out on her forehead.
“It’s a wrap for carrying a baby. I thought if you put Grace in it, you could free up your hands.”
“That certainly would be nice. Can you show me how it works?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. Maybe together we can get it to function properly.”
Although Keaton hadn’t started out with ulterior motives when he began fitting the wrap around Lark’s slim body, he quickly discovered the activity gave him the perfect excuse to skim his fingers all over her slender form.
“And then you wrap it around this way.” He settled the fabric into place, noticing the slight jump in her body as he accidently grazed his knuckles against her breast. “You should have two pockets. Here and here.”
“Looks like I do.” She sounded a trifle breathless. “Now what?”
“Now we take Buster Bunny and put him on your shoulder.” After watching the video four times, Keaton felt pretty confident in the steps. “Next we settle his legs into this pouch and pull up the fabric around him.”
“That doesn’t feel very secure.”
“We’re not done. This side comes up like this.”
He rocked the edge of the fabric up her torso, across her breasts and the stuffed rabbit tucked against her chest. Although he was working hard to keep his touch neutral, the intimacy of their proximity and the slight tremble in her muscles were eating away at his better judgment.
“That feels better,” she said. “What’s this piece for?”
“I’m getting there.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“Are you always so impatient?” He hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious, but there was a teasing edge that had slipped into his tone.
“I’m not usually impatient at all.” She bit her lip in confusion. “Something about this is making me anxious.” With her hands she indicated the fabric wrapped around her torso.
