“I start my on-the-job training with them on Friday.”
“Did you move to Merritt’s Crossing hoping you’d find McKenna? Seems like a huge risk.”
“I moved here because it offers the best chance at starting my second career, and the only time McKenna and I communicated, she mentioned she was trying to move back home. While your cousin sounds unpredictable, she shared a lot on social media up until a couple months ago. All of her recent posts were from this part of Colorado, so I assumed this was home.”
Skye’s gaze narrowed. “When did you talk to McKenna?”
“Just after Ryan’s funeral. She wasn’t there, and I was worried, so I sent her a text.”
“But you’ve never heard from her again?”
“No.” Gage leaned back in his chair. “She’s ignored all my messages. I started looking for her as soon as I moved here, though. My first stop was a diner on the interstate near Limon because McKenna had posted that she worked there.”
Skye scrunched up her nose in a way Gage found incredibly adorable. “Yeah, that job didn’t last long. McKenna’s not meant to be a waitress.”
“That’s what the owner told me. She also mentioned your family’s furniture business here, and that someone might have more info if I stopped by the store. Honestly, I thought it was better to reach out online first. In case you didn’t—”
Skye’s phone buzzed on the table between them, interrupting his explanation. Her gaze toggled between him and the phone.
“Do you want to get that?” he asked.
“It’s just a text. I’ll read it later.”
Six more notifications chimed in quick succession. He felt his mouth twitch but suppressed his smile. “Are you sure?”
“I’d better look. My babysitter is the only one who sends blasts of texts like that.”
He waited while she studied the screen.
“Oh no.” The appealing shade of pink on her cheeks faded to a pale white. “I can’t believe this.”
“Everything okay?”
She set the phone down. “Connor’s babysitter just gave her notice. Her husband is being transferred to Phoenix, and she leaves on Saturday to look for a house there.”
“I thought you said Connor was in day care at a church?”
Her hand trembled as she massaged her brow with well-manicured fingertips. “He is, but just two mornings a week because he’s having issues.”
“What kind of issues?”
“Biting.” Skye heaved a sigh. “It’s happened twice. Once more and they’ll ask him to leave. That’s why I hired a sitter for the other three days, hoping that if he wasn’t around other kids quite so much, he’d get the one-on-one attention he seems to need.”
“What will you do without a regular babysitter?”
“I—I don’t know.” She stared out the window.
A possible solution formed in his head. He hesitated. Given her earlier reaction, how would she respond if he mentioned he had a flexible afternoon schedule since most of his training could be completed in the mornings?
“I’m already on thin ice with the church’s child care director. She thinks I shouldn’t be Connor’s guardian, that he’d be better off in a two-parent home. Anyway, if he bites another child again, I’m worried she’ll use it as an excuse to call social services.”
Not on his watch. Gage’s heart fisted. “No.” He wouldn’t let that happen.
Skye flinched.
The single word came out more forceful than he’d intended. “I—I’m sorry.” He held up both palms in surrender. “Please, don’t let it come to that.”
Skye’s voice lowered to a whisper. “People talk. Look at how you found out about me from someone in Limon. Word will get out that I’m not able to care for him well enough and—”
“Skye.” Gage’s hand shot out and blanketed hers. “Let me help you. Please.”
Her eyes widened, and she stiffened at his touch. Startled by the warmth that zinged up his arm, he scrambled to form a coherent thought. “I have afternoons free. Maybe some mornings, too. I can watch Connor as much or as little as you need.”
The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
She stared at him. An awkward silence filled the space between them, and he suddenly regretted his bold offer. What if he scared her off?
Finally, the rumble of the espresso machine broke through the quiet, and she tugged her hand free. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.”
She frowned. “Do you have any experience with babies?”
“I can learn.” It was a weak argument. She’d probably say no for sure now. He held his breath. Please say yes. Please say yes.
“I—I don’t know. I can’t afford to risk Connor’s safety with someone who lacks experience.”
His gut cinched tighter and he leaned forward, fighting to keep his tone even. “And I can’t go back on my word to my best friend. Give me two hours with Connor and let me prove to you that I can handle taking care of him.”
She sighed and shrugged into her coat. “Come over for dinner tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to my mother and Connor. We’ll see how it goes.”
Seriously? Relief washed over him. “What time?”
“Five thirty. I’ll message you our address.” She stood and reached for her purse. “See you then.”
“Yeah. Great.” His shock limited him to monosyllabic responses. “See you then,” he called over his shoulder as her boots click-click-clicked across the hardwood floor behind him.
He’d done it. Somehow he’d convinced Skye to let him meet Connor. A smile tugged at his mouth and he pumped the air with his fist.
Through the window, he watched Skye jog toward her car as thick wet snowflakes fell from a gray sky. She was intense. And beautiful. He purged the observation from his thoughts. Nope. Not going there. He had one mission right now, and it didn’t include flirting with a pretty brunette. Besides, he wasn’t “relationship material.” The last woman he’d dated in Florida had solidified that when she’d called him emotionally unavailable.
Gage gritted his teeth. He had his binge-drinking mother and absentee father to thank for that. And he knew firsthand how tough some foster homes could be. Maybe that was why he found Skye’s loyalty to her own family both intriguing and intimidating.
He reached for his phone to check McKenna’s social media for an update.
Still nothing. Gage sighed and revisited her older posts, landing on an image of McKenna holding Connor on her lap.
Man, Ryan would be so proud of his son. He hated that Ryan never had a chance to meet the baby before the accident.
“I’m going to look out for him. I won’t let you down. I promise,” Gage whispered, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. He didn’t know yet how he would fulfill that promise specifically—looking out for an almost one-year-old—but it didn’t lessen his resolve. He knew all too well the heartache of growing up without a dad, and he couldn’t rest until he was certain Connor was safe. Loved. Being a part of Connor’s life was about so much more than keeping a promise to Ryan. When Gage was a child, other adults had enabled his mother’s reckless behavior. He never wanted Connor to experience the pain and hopelessness of that kind of betrayal from the very people who were supposed to protect him. And he’d do whatever it took to make that happen.
Chapter Two
She shouldn’t have invited Gage over.
A dull ache throbbed at Skye’s temples, and she’d snapped at Mom more than once this afternoon. The thought of allowing a man they’d just met into their home—into Connor’s life—sent a shiver down her spine. She hurried to fix dinner in Mom’s kitchen, while Connor sat at her feet, babbling as he pulled every single plastic container out of the bottom cabinet drawer.
Caught off guard by Gage’s bol
d offer at the coffee shop yesterday, and still reeling from her babysitter’s sudden resignation, she’d relented too easily. Her healthy suspicion of strangers had inconveniently vanished, and now, in less than ten minutes, he’d be at the door and she’d have to come up with a compelling reason why she didn’t need his help. His desire to keep his promise to his friend was honorable and all, but she had to consider Connor’s safety, too. What did she really know about Gage?
“There has to be another option,” she muttered, sidestepping Connor to fish the salad-serving tongs out of the drawer.
“Honey, are you all right?” Mom sat at the oval table in the breakfast nook, slicing tomatoes for the garden salad. “You’ve been talking to yourself all afternoon.”
“Yep. Fine. I’ve just got a lot to think about.” Skye skirted the L-shaped counter and set the tongs beside the salad bowl in front of Mom, then quickly pivoted away. She felt her mother’s concerned gaze following her as she turned off the Crock-Pot. Gage and her child care issues paled in comparison to the furniture store’s financial issues she’d stumbled across today. Dad had left a much more convoluted mess than Skye had originally thought. How in the world would she ever bring that up? Mom had endured so much already.
“That’s a real shame about Bethany and her family moving to Phoenix,” Mom said. “She was a wonderful babysitter.”
“I wish she could’ve given more notice.” Skye pulled a stack of plates from the cabinet and carried them to the table. “Her timing is the worst.”
“Maybe God has something better in mind. For her and for you.” Mom’s gentle smile and trite observations made Skye bristle.
“You don’t believe that’s true.”
“I didn’t say that.” Skye swiped her palm across her forehead and turned away to grab napkins and silverware. “It’s just... Never mind.”
Hurt filled Mom’s brown eyes.
Skye clamped her mouth closed, conscious of poking holes in Mom’s beliefs. Even though they were once her beliefs, too, she sure had a lot of doubts lately about what God must have in mind for her. For McKenna and Connor, too.
“I’m worried. I—I don’t know what we’re going to do without Bethany.”
Without a lot of things. Skye kept her lengthy list of worries to herself while she struggled to tamp down the anxious feelings twisting her up inside. If the business was in worse shape financially than she’d thought, and she had to hire a full-time babysitter for Connor while she tried to save the furniture store, her own personal savings account would dwindle quickly. Both of her brothers said they were committed to helping, but neither of them were prepared to financially support Mom, either.
“We’ve certainly endured quite a few surprises lately,” Mom said quietly.
Connor squealed and banged two plastic measuring cups together, then held one out for her, accompanied by a toothy smile. Grateful his outburst might’ve saved her from discussing her waning faith, Skye leaned over and smoothed a wisp of his pale blond hair across his forehead.
“No, thanks. That’s for you.” When she pulled away without taking the measuring cup, his blue eyes filled with tears and his expression crumpled.
While his cries grew louder, Skye quickly glanced at the timer beside the oven. In two minutes, the rolls needed to come out. The stew in the Crock-Pot was ready, but there weren’t drinks in the glasses yet, and she hadn’t prepared anything for Connor to eat. Still so much to do before Gage arrived, and Mom wasn’t mobile enough to carry hot dishes to the table. Letting him sit there and cry wasn’t okay, either.
“C’mon, let’s move to the living room and play with some trucks. Your favorite.” She scooped him up and carried him into the living room, where his toys were still scattered across the beige carpet.
“Anything I can do?” Mom asked.
“I’ve got it.” Skye set him on the floor and pushed a plastic truck and some blocks toward him, but Connor only screamed louder, while his face deepened to a shade of pink she hadn’t seen before in his previous tantrums.
“Wow.” Skye glanced at Mom over her shoulder. “He’s really angry.”
“He’ll calm down in a minute.” Her mom braced against the table and pushed to a stand. “Let me—”
“No, don’t get up.” Skye hurried to her side and grasped her elbow. “I said I’ve got it. What do you need?”
“Honey, Dr. Bradley said I’m supposed to be walking short distances.” Mom raised her voice to be heard above Connor’s wailing. “There’s no reason for me to sit here while you wear yourself out. I can at least carry a few things to the table.”
Skye opened her mouth to argue, but the timer rang, reminding her that if she had any hope of getting the meal on the table, she’d have to relent and let her mother help a little bit.
“All right. I’ll set the table while you get the rolls out of the oven.”
“Deal.” Mom patted Skye’s arm and then moved slowly toward the kitchen.
“Oh, look at this.” Skye brought Connor a bright-colored shape sorter from the toy bin beside the sofa, and thankfully he dialed back his cries to a pathetic whimper. While he examined the plastic shapes inside the rectangular box, Skye hurried to put plates and silverware on the table.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. No. A jolt of adrenaline zinged through her. She wasn’t ready. She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear and glanced at her plaid button-down shirt and favorite skinny jeans. She’d meant to change before Gage—
Wait. Why did it matter how she looked? A relationship with him apart from their shared interest in Connor wasn’t even on her radar.
She opened the door and Gage stood on the other side. His sandy-blond hair gleamed in the light from the porch, and the skin beside his hazel eyes crinkled when he smiled. A stunning smile that she was working hard not to stare at right now.
“Hey.” That voice. Deep. Confident. Smooth. How could one simple word make her heart pound so easily?
Great. While most normal humans might return his casual greeting, Skye couldn’t find her words. Or ignore Gage’s shoulders, which seemed broader than she remembered. Or was it the green winter jacket that added bulk? Instead of speaking, all she could think about was how that shade of green emphasized the flecks in his eyes and—
“Skye?” Gage’s brow arched. “You did say five thirty, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, hi. Sorry, I was, uh...” Just thinking about your amazing shoulders and gorgeous eyes.
Oh brother. Warmth rushed to her face. “Please, come in.”
She stepped back and pulled the door wide, while another wave of anxiety washed over her. Was she doing the right thing—allowing Gage to meet Connor? He’d been through so much in his first year of life. Introducing another stranger, even one with the best of intentions, made her uneasy.
* * *
The aroma of something delicious—soup, maybe—enveloped Gage as he toed off his boots inside the Tomlinsons’ front door. Definitely smelled more appealing than the canned chili he’d planned to fix for himself.
“Thanks for coming.” Skye took his jacket, and his heart skittered at the way those pink lips of hers curved into a tentative smile.
He quickly banished those thoughts. “No problem.”
“Hello, you must be Gage.” A petite woman with salt-and-pepper curls and wearing black pants and a red blouse walked slowly from the kitchen to the nearby table, her eyes focused on a small basket balanced precariously in her hands.
“That’s my mother, Rhonda Tomlinson,” Skye said.
Before Gage could respond, Connor squealed so loud that Skye winced. “That’s Connor’s way of welcoming you.”
Gage glanced at the little boy sitting in the middle of the living room floor, and his breath hitched. He’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere. They were a carbon copy of Ryan’s. He swallowed
hard and glanced at Skye again. “Mind if I say hello?”
“Please do.” Something undecipherable flashed across Skye’s features. “Dinner will be ready in a minute.”
Gage approached slowly and sank onto the beige shag carpet. “What’s up, little dude?”
Connor stared at him, wide-eyed, then babbled a string of unintelligible words while offering Gage an orange plastic dump truck.
“Thanks.” Gage gently took the truck and drove it across the carpet and up Connor’s leg, while making the appropriate truck noises.
Connor giggled and playfully pushed Gage’s hand away.
Gage’s heart expanded at the bubbly sound of Connor’s laugh, and he drove the truck along Connor’s gray sweatpants again, making him laugh louder. This time Gage laughed right along with him, and they repeated the cycle. He quickly surveyed his surroundings—casual furnishings, floral curtains framing the windows, and shelves nearby lined with books and knickknacks indicated the Tomlinsons lived comfortably but didn’t seem pretentious.
Feeling the weight of their stares, Gage glanced up to see Mrs. Tomlinson and Skye watching him, their mouths open.
Uh-oh. What had he done? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s amazing.” Skye’s smooth brow furrowed. “We just haven’t heard him laugh that much before.”
Oh. Gage shifted his focus back to Connor. How sad. “He’s got a great laugh. I’d want to hear more, too.”
While Skye and her mother put dishes on the table, Connor offered Gage more of his toys, coupled with enthusiastic sounds, and Gage admired each car, plastic tool and rattle.
“I hate to interrupt the fun,” Skye said, “but dinner is ready.”
“All right.” Gage stood, and Connor’s lower lip wobbled.
Oh no. Gage hesitated. He’d made the kid cry already.
Connor’s expression crumpled, and he stretched both arms toward Gage as if asking to be held. What should he do? He’d made his promise to Ryan without ever spending much time around children. Especially babies.
Their Baby Blessing Page 2
