by Dana Nussio
“Sorry. I need to feed her.”
“Yeah, Harper’s getting hungry, too.”
How he could tell, Willow wasn’t sure. Harper had barely made more than a whimper. Even working all day with several infants, she’d never been around one who was so polite. Now, her Luna made her needs known to everyone.
As he pulled a small cooler from his diaper bag and withdrew a prepared bottle of formula, Willow lifted her wiggling child from the chair and laid her across her lap. She threw a receiving blanket over her shoulder for modesty, bunched up the T-shirt under her chambray shirt and unclipped her nursing bra. Luna latched onto her breast immediately like the experienced infant she was, her tiny body finally relaxing.
“I wonder where the microwave—”
When he stopped, Willow looked up and met his stare. He stood, frozen in place, the baby bottle lifted as if he was about to do a formula demonstration. That her cheeks burned only annoyed her more.
“Oh. Right.” He lowered his arm and averted his gaze.
In her insular world at the day-care center, she never had to deal with people preferring for nursing mothers to hide in dressing rooms or filthy restroom stalls just to feed their infants. Was Asher, part of the monied Coltons, one of those?
Harper let out a little whine that must have been a full-blown fit for her, so Asher bent and handed her a pacifier to tide her over until he could warm her bottle.
His gaze lifted as he straightened again, but the expression he wore wasn’t the judgmental one she would have expected. If anything, he looked sad.
“If Luna’s my child, she’ll never forgive me for taking her from her mother, the only parent she’s ever known.”
Chapter 5
Asher cradled Harper and fed her a bottle, though she’d mastered the skill of holding one on her own a few days before. He didn’t want to consider that he might be hiding behind a six-month-old rather than to explain what he’d said to Willow. As if he could interpret his intense reaction to seeing the deep connection between the nursing mother and her child. He’d already retreated to the coffee creamer bar with its tiny microwave oven to avoid her questions.
He brushed back Harper’s silky hair. How could he explain that even in the nursery, where he’d packed every piece of equipment a baby could ever need or want, he still worried he was failing to give his child everything she deserved? Like a mother to love and comfort her as Willow had been doing for Luna.
“She must have been hungry.”
Willow pointed to the eight-ounce bottle that was already half-empty.
“Guess so.”
Asher propped Harper up and pulled the bottle away so she could burp; his daughter could do that for herself now, too. Willow deftly moved Luna from one breast to the other. It would have been a seamless switch if the baby hadn’t grabbed the blanket and taken it with her, exposing a patch of her mother’s bare skin in the process.
Probably just her rib cage, but nonetheless, Asher couldn’t help but to gawk. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t a prepubescent kid getting his first peek at internet porn. He was a father, for goodness’ sake. And Willow was a mother, merely feeding her child. The least he could do was to see her as a Madonna figure and have the good sense to know that she was hands-off for him. She’d certainly had good reasons she might not want anything to do with him, or at least his family.
“Oops.” Willow chuckled, her complexion reddening, as she readjusted the blanket and her daughter’s squirming form. “She’s getting too wiggly lately in public. Guess I’ll have to start carrying backup bottles of frozen milk with the baby food I’ve been introducing.”
“She’s a lucky girl to have had her mother around to give her such a good start by breastfeeding.”
Why did he keep saying stuff like that to Willow? Wasn’t his dumb comment about him taking Luna away from the mother she’d bonded with bad enough? She was a stranger, yet he’d already admitted that he didn’t suspect her for the attack on his father, though he hadn’t ruled out his own siblings at first. He’d nearly told her he wasn’t confident in his abilities as a single dad. He’d never admitted his insecurities to anyone, not even the twins, Marlowe and Callum. Now he was all but posting them for Willow on the coffee shop’s chalkboard menu, between words like cappuccino and macchiato.
“You said that Harper’s mother had passed. Was it during childbirth?”
He scoffed. “I know. It’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, but Nora Wheeler’s departure wasn’t that noble. She took off a few days after I brought them home from the hospital.”
“Wasn’t the mansion up to her standards?” She raised a hand, as if to hold off his response. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
He frowned but continued anyway. “Worse. Said she didn’t want to be trapped in a small town with me. And she didn’t want to be a mother.”
“A little late for that.”
Luna popped her head out from beneath the blanket, finished eating, but this time Willow caught the cloth. She rearranged her clothes and tucked the blanket in her diaper bag.
“I thought it was pretty late, too.” He set Harper’s empty bottle on the table and rested her against his chest so she could nap if she was ready.
“Were you surprised by her sudden change of heart?”
“Now that I think about it, not really. She was always a party girl. I hate to admit it, but I used to like that about her. I used to have my share of adventures, too.”
“Adventures?”
The word must have left a foul taste in Willow’s mouth from the way she repeated it.
“But when she got pregnant, I did the stand-up thing. I even proposed, though she said we should wait. I still thought we were both on board for the rest.”
Asher didn’t know what was worse, the annoyance he’d read in her expression earlier, or the pity that replaced it. He lowered his gaze and tried to ignore the discomfort in his gut. Like that familiar drop in a moving elevator, his stomach took its time to catch up on the ride.
“Do you know where she went, you know, before?”
“LA. But I got the best end of the bargain.” He tickled Harper’s ribs, and she giggled with that bubbly sound he wished he could bottle.
“How did she...?”
“Viral meningitis. Her mother told me she caught it at a rave or something.”
He held his shoulder blades against the chair back and stared at his hands. Why had he shared so many details? He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” Then after a few seconds, she added, “Do you ever worry you won’t be able to do all of this without her?”
“Hell no.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Even knowing that Willow was only responding to the feelings of inadequacy that he’d given off before didn’t make him want to take that back.
“I am doing it without her. Every day.”
“Yes, you seem to be—”
“Am I doing a perfect job?” He interrupted her, on a roll and unable to stop. “Absolutely not. But I’m...here.”
Asher hoped she hadn’t heard the slight break in his voice, but he doubted he’d gotten that lucky. He was relieved when she excused herself to take Luna into the ladies’ room for a clean diaper. He’d planned to change the subject when she returned, but Willow spoke up again before he had the chance.
“Wow, we’re a pair.”
“What do you mean?”
“My ex dashed before he died, too. I was still pregnant when he filed for divorce to be with one of his women.”
“One of them?”
“There were three that I knew of.”
An ache settled in his chest. If Willow was aware of three, then that total was probably much higher.
“Legally, the divorce couldn’t be fin
alized until after the birth, but he got married again before the ink on the papers dried. He never bothered to meet Luna.”
“How did it happen?”
“He and his uh, wife, died in a car accident two months after Luna was born.”
Willow tucked her chin and slid Luna’s curls behind her ears, her movements jerky instead of fluid as they’d been earlier.
“What are the odds that both of us would have exes who left us and then died?” They weren’t perfectly chosen words, but he couldn’t help saying something to distract her from her sadness. He could relate to it more than he cared to admit.
The corners of her mouth tipped up again. “After this morning, neither of us should be betting on odds. Especially you. How could something like that happen in a family once, let alone twice?”
At least she hadn’t named it out loud. Talking about the possible switch made it all too real.
“Guess you and I have a little in common, after all,” he said finally.
Willow shrugged. Maybe she wasn’t ready to go that far.
“Luna inherited your husband’s estate, right? At least the guy could give his kid something.”
“She doesn’t need anything from him.”
At the fierce look in her eyes, he grinned. “I’m sure she doesn’t.”
Still, he couldn’t help wondering whether she was talking about Harper or herself.
“The way that Xavier blew through our money, there won’t be anything left anyway, by the time the probate court is finished with it. He left no will. We didn’t have anything to divvy up in the divorce, either.”
He tilted his head, squinting. “Didn’t you say you owned a day-care center? Tender Years? It’s about a block off the main boulevard, right? I remember it. A big, blond, stucco place with an outdoor staircase to the second floor.” At her nod, he continued. “And don’t you own your home?”
“This might come as a surprise to a Colton, but not everyone is a homeowner.”
Asher lifted his hands in surrender. “That’s not what I... I mean—”
At her chuckle, he frowned.
“Couldn’t resist again? Well, try.”
“Fine. I own the building where the center is located. Well, the bank does. And, since Luna and I live in the upstairs apartment, I technically do own a house.”
“How was that not an asset?” He considered it for a second. “Did you have it before you were married?”
“Xavier thought I was crazy for insisting on a prenup.”
“Not so crazy, after all.”
“And not homeless.”
“Tender Years is pretty successful, right?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why? Are you trying to buy my business? Or the building? Neither are for sale.”
“Are you always this suspicious?”
“Can you blame me?”
“I guess not, but, no, I don’t want to buy your business.” His chuckle sounded flat to his own ears. “It’s just that, well, I’ve had trouble finding a good nanny, and—”
“And you wanted to know if there’s a slot available for Harper? We’ve been full. We even have a wait list. Hold on. Was this the real reason you asked me to meet you?”
Willow Merrill was too smart for her own good.
“Well, it was one of the reasons.”
“Figures. Of course, you need something from me.”
She probably assumed that the Coltons took from everyone in their lives, and he hated giving her proof.
“But I don’t need a slot. I just thought with you being in the business, you might know some qualified candidates for a private nanny position.”
Willow didn’t answer immediately and tapped her fingers on the table instead.
“Don’t you think I would have hired them to work for me if I knew of any good candidates?”
“Possibly.”
“And does this mean the Coltons are too good for a day-care center?”
This time he palmed his forehead. “I didn’t say anything like that. It’s just that my job isn’t nine-to-five, so I need someone at the house. It’s a convenience thing. And I get to see her more often. Besides, didn’t you already say you have a waitlist?”
She leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms, but this time she didn’t answer. One point for Asher, though he doubted he’d get many of those with Willow.
“Maybe it won’t work out indefinitely, but I’ve got to find something for Harper. Soon. Could you add her to your list, just in case a spot becomes open?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Anne Sewall said you’re the foreman at the Triple R. That’s not a usual position for a Colton family member, is it?”
He lifted and lowered his shoulder. “Maybe not, but it’s perfect for me. I’m much happier on horseback, out riding the fence line, or helping to pull a new calf than I ever would have been working in the Colton Oil office like some of my siblings.”
She looked at him strangely, as if he’d surprised her.
“No desk job for you?”
“Oh, I have a desk and more paperwork than I’d like sometimes, but I also get to stare out over the fields toward the mountains at sunrise and sunset.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. I can’t wait to share the land with my little girl.”
He stood with Harper in his arms and crossed to the stroller. After clicking the level to recline the seat back, he laid the infant in it. Then he glanced at Willow, who’d pulled her sleeping baby closer in her arms. She kissed the top of her child’s dark curls.
At once, his own words struck him, causing an ache to spread inside his chest. My little girl. Neither of them knew for certain that the children they’d been raising were even their own. He cleared his throat, but the lump that had formed there refused to dislodge.
She glanced up at him, her dark eyes appearing to read whatever he’d given away with his own. Then she seemed to mine them for something more. He needed to look away, to break the spell that caused his pulse to thud at his temple, but he found himself a willing captive. Hungry for a connection. With her.
A ringing phone pierced the moment, though, and caused Luna to startle awake. Immediately, she cried out.
Willow lunged for her cell and read the screen, rocking her child, who would have none of it. She wiggled and cried.
“It’s the center. I have to take this.”
Asher did the only thing he could think of to help. He reached out his arms. Willow stared at his hands as if they were more enemy than rescuer. Then, with a frown, she held the baby out to him. Something told him this action was a bigger sacrifice for her than only a moment of needing quick parental backup.
“Come here, sweetie.”
At first, he held Luna at arm’s length, as she stopped crying and stared back at him with wide, cautious eyes. Willow kept looking back over her shoulder, her features pinched with worry, as she stepped outside to return the call that should have clicked over to voice mail.
Luna’s gaze shifted to her mother and then back to him, as if trying to determine if she should be upset, so Asher slowly moved in a circle and kept turning. All babies were different, but this method worked with Harper, so he gave it a shot.
For a few seconds, Luna stared back at him, but when he smiled, her lips lifted, too.
“You know I’m a friend, don’t you, Luna?”
He bent his elbows, drew her closer, finally settling her on his hip. The scent on her hair was the same one that had distracted him while they’d been in that tight hospital office. The perfume her mother wore. Like a field of wildflowers.
Luna had just rewarded his efforts with a happy squeal when Willow threw the door open again. She glanced from Asher to her daughter and shook her head, her mo
vements robotic, agitated.
“We’ve got to go.”
“What is it?”
Willow shook her head as she lifted Luna from his arms and then hurried over to buckle the baby in the stroller she hated. Why wouldn’t Willow look at him? Was it about the call or that he’d made her daughter laugh? The infant was already crying out again as Willow pushed the stroller past him. Sobbing with her arms extended—to him.
“See you tomorrow?” he called after her as she reached the door.
She answered without looking back. “I’ll be there.”
“I would never try to take her, Willow,” he blurted.
This time she paused. He’d made a promise he couldn’t keep if he found out that Luna was his. He’d contradicted his earlier words, as well. But maybe he’d broken through to her.
“What is it?” he asked again. “Can I help?”
Her shoulders dropped forward. “The Arizona Department of Health Services inspector showed up at the center unannounced. Someone filed a complaint with the state.”
“Why would anyone do something like that?”
“Someone wants to shut us down.” She straightened again and reached out to push open the door. “And I have no idea who’s planning it.”
Chapter 6
Willow parked inside the only open space in the two-stall garage, the other side packed but meticulously organized with shelving units, storage bins and parking for the collection of ride-on toys. The tools of the day-care trade.
Would the inspector, who’d invaded her house, take all this away from them—the security she’d been so determined to build for herself and for her child? Would Willow be forced to break the promise she’d made to her own mother that she would always be independent?
“That can’t be happening,” she said as she opened the rear door of her SUV.
Luna looked back at her, already lifting her arms. She’d wondered earlier if the call about the switch could have been related to the threatening letter from the week before. Now she had to believe that all of this was connected. You deserve everything you get, bitch. Tender Years will be history. Some of the words from the letter that had been tucked in her front door repeated in her thoughts then. Was this what the writer had been talking about? Would whatever he or she had planned be something worse?
