by Regan Black
“And you didn’t even do the hard part,” Fox joked. He’d sat with enough mares through foaling to know he wasn’t cut out to support a wife in labor.
“Don’t talk to me about any of it until you’ve done it yourself,” Wyatt grumbled.
“It wasn’t an insult,” he said. Though it had clearly come across that way. “Can you please give me a DNA sample to run against the baby’s? I’m trying to figure out which Colton he is supposed to be with.”
“It wasn’t me,” Wyatt insisted.
“I believe you.” Fox believed all three of his brothers. He definitely didn’t want to think any of them would lie about having a son if they’d known. “Still, a sample helps me narrow down who could be the father.”
“Fine.” Wyatt opened his mouth.
Fox swabbed Wyatt’s cheek and labeled the sample. “Thanks.”
“How long before you know anything?”
“DNA tests can take some time,” he admitted. “With luck and a favor or two, we can get it expedited. I was going to reach out to Agent Stefan Roberts in the morning.” After Deputy Bloom’s comments, Fox thought the FBI would be interested in helping, if only to separate the baby’s appearance from the Avalanche Killer case.
“Perks of being a Colton,” Wyatt quipped.
Fox heard the baby fussing and with another congrats, he let his brother go enjoy his first night of fatherhood at home. Before he left, Fox couldn’t resist one more text to Kelsey.
OMW. Need anything?
He waited, but she didn’t reply immediately. Had something happened? Having no real cause to panic did nothing to slow his racing heart. He turned the truck for his place a bit faster than he should have on roads that were cloaked in darkness. When his phone chimed with a text message alert, he used the app that read the text aloud.
All good here. Turns out your Baby John Doe likes bath time.
Fox pulled over and took a deep breath. It also gave him a chance to view the picture and the video she’d added to the message. While his heart rate returned to normal, he stared at a stranger’s son having a grand time in the baby bathtub. The little guy was all grins, his hands splashing in the water. The video was less than twenty seconds long. He hit Replay a time or two, maybe three. The kid was adorable and Kelsey’s voice in the background was warm and competent. Soothing.
He needed to get a grip.
There was a hot meal waiting for him, prepared by a pretty and intelligent woman he found immensely appealing. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, she was off-limits. It would benefit both of them if he could remember that for more than a minute at a time.
* * *
Kelsey had taken a chance making dinner. It was entirely possible her new boss wouldn’t appreciate her rooting through his pantry and cabinets to find ingredients.
Although cooking was a common sense thing to do, she’d worked with some quirky people through the years. Sometimes her access to public areas of the home was restricted to a single shelf or maybe a portion of the refrigerator. In one home, she’d had a mini-fridge and microwave in her room and general kitchen access was off-limits unless she was preparing or sharing a meal with the children in her care.
Oddities aside, it was still a big improvement over the way life would be if she’d stayed with her family.
She caught the faint rumble of the truck engine as Fox returned and her heart gave a happy, if inappropriate, spin in her chest. None of his texts had given her a hint about the meetings with his brothers. Of course, that wasn’t her business and she reminded herself to push the mute button on her natural curiosity.
She’d given the baby a bath and a bottle and rocked him to sleep. Last night he’d gone almost five full hours before waking up. Over the next few days, she could get the little guy on a schedule that would mesh better with Fox—and her—in the long run.
DNA results could take weeks and he didn’t seem inclined to hand over the baby to anyone else in the meantime. Maybe it really was his child and she was allowing her professional fascination with him to cloud her judgment.
Fox was like a force of nature. At least to her lonely and long underused feminine senses. Not stormy, but steady as a sunrise. The calming voice, intelligent eyes and the flashes of humor twisted her up in unexpected ways. She’d barely been here twenty-four hours and she found herself blushing and wishing for things she didn’t have a right to want from him.
The timer went off for the casserole and she pulled it out of the oven just as Fox entered the kitchen. “That smells fantastic.”
Thankfully the oven was a convenient excuse for the fresh burst of color she felt rising in her face. “Just in time.” She set the oven mitts aside and turned, nearly plowing into him.
She’d already found her balance by the time he caught her elbows, but the brief contact of his fingers against her bare skin sent a ripple of anticipation through her.
The man could move quietly when it suited him. He’d come up behind her to check out the casserole. “What is it?”
She’d taken a chance, building from what appeared to be staples he had on hand. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so...”
“I’m sure I’ll love it. Never been a picky eater.” He moved toward a cabinet and pulled down plates for the both of them. Then he did a double take, pointing to the now-empty stretch of counter. “What happened to the baby’s stuff?”
Crap. She should’ve asked his permission to make any changes. This was his home and though she’d been invited to stay, her title was nanny—in the house at least. “I can put those things back. I overstepped.” She clamped her mouth shut before the babbling got out of control. “I moved those things as part of finishing the nursery.”
“Temporary nursery.”
“Right.” She gave him a wide berth as she moved to a different cabinet. “I have a tendency to organize and I didn’t think you’d want Baby John’s things scattered all over indefinitely. I apologize if I was out of line.”
“You weren’t.” He seemed distinctly uncomfortable. “You don’t need to walk on eggshells around here, Kelsey. I’m grateful for your help with the baby and since you’re living here, you should feel at home. I’ll get used to it.”
“Great, thanks.”
He held out plates and she served up the casserole she’d pulled together with rice, chicken, salsa, cheese and a crumbled tortilla chip topping. He carried the plates to the island and she poured water for herself. She’d noticed a jug of tea in the fridge. “Would you like tea? Something stronger?”
“Just water. I had a beer over at Wyatt’s.”
“He’s the brother who just had a baby?”
“Yes. Good memory.” Fox dug into the food when she sat down. Closing his eyes, his entire body relaxed over the first bite. “You did this with the leftovers in my pantry?”
She nodded. “Making something out of what looks like nothing is one of my strengths.”
“I’ll say. Did your mom teach you to cook?”
He was fishing for details in her past that her résumé glossed over. She’d honed her skills in this area as well, finding ways to open up without exposing too much. “Yes. Mom kept us all engaged with kitchen tasks. Part and parcel of a big family.”
“Well, tell your mom I’m grateful next time you talk.”
Kelsey shoved a big bite into her mouth so she couldn’t answer. At the moment, she was belatedly grateful to the employers who hadn’t cared to know anything other than how good she was with children.
“Did I say something wrong?” Fox asked quietly.
“Oh, not at all,” she replied.
“Your face is turning red.”
“Spices do that,” she told him. “And sunlight. Sometimes wine.” She shrugged. “Curse of the fair skinned.”
“Okay. If I do say something wrong or screw up, especially with the b
aby, tell me.”
“All right.” He was the strangest boss she’d ever had. If only she knew if it was because of her infatuation or reality. “I’m really excited about working with you and the horses. I’m excited about the baby, too,” she added when he frowned.
“That makes one of us.” He chased a few grains of rice around his plate. “He really likes baths?”
“He sure did tonight.”
“I probably should’ve done that last night. My sister would’ve known what to do.”
She studied him as unobtrusively as possible with him sitting so close. “You did great, I’m sure.” He seemed inordinately uptight about caring for a child. “Kids and horses aren’t that much different in the early days. They eat, poop, play and sleep.”
He stared at her, then burst out laughing. The sound filled her with a glow of pride as big and happy as the day she’d won her first science fair. Better actually. She didn’t have to take his laugher home and have her father rip her heart out by tossing that beautiful sound in the trash.
She sipped her water and finished her dinner, pleased when Fox filled his plate again and devoured the second helping. “I didn’t have time to make anything for dessert.”
“I don’t expect you to do the cooking.”
“You didn’t seem all that happy about tracking down your brothers. I wanted to do something nice. And there was all this time between loads of laundry.”
His brow furrowed. “I didn’t find a single extra minute when I was on my own with him.”
“You will.” She sipped her water again. “What time do you usually get started in the office?”
“Normally, I’ll do the morning rounds with the horses, come back and clean up, eat breakfast and then head to the office around eight. Wyatt and I share a few ranch hands. They’ll come and go through the day. Now that Hudson’s here, they’ll be handling more of the work on his operation.”
She let a thousand questions flit through her mind, all of them too nosy. “You’re sure you want that second portable crib in the office? We have the baby monitor now. The signal will reach downstairs.”
“Absolutely. I don’t want to run you ragged.”
His voice was a smooth tenor, and when he’d talked to the horses this morning on the tour, every single one of them had been tuned to his voice.
When it seemed he was done, she reached for his plate. He caught her hand. “What are you doing?”
She snatched her fingers from his light grasp, but the heat and tingle lingered. “I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“You aren’t rushing me.” He aimed a curious gaze at her.
“Okay.” She didn’t need a man of his intellect getting curious. “Then can I clear your plate?”
“No. You cooked in addition to the nanny responsibilities. Cleanup is on me.”
Resistance was a slippery coil in her belly and it irritated her. She’d left home fifteen years ago and still, the old habits cropped up. Girls did the cooking and the dishes. She might be back on a ranch, but Fox wasn’t of the same antiquated mind-set as her father or brothers.
“Cool,” she managed. “Thanks.”
He shot her another quizzical glance as he carried plates to the sink. Thankfully, the baby monitor lit up and Baby John’s first whimper filled the awkward space.
“So much for giving you a break,” Fox muttered. “You want dishes or baby?”
Did he really mean to make it sound like they were a team? The idea of it fizzed through her. Delightful, intriguing and generally wonderful. “I’ll take the baby. He might get himself back to sleep.”
Fox held up crossed fingers. “Does that happen?”
She smiled. “Do you wake up in the night crying?”
“Only once or twice a year,” he replied with a wink. “And you’re right. I get myself back to sleep.”
“See? We all grow up. Sleeping is a skill,” she added as she dialed down the volume on the monitor. Baby John had worked himself into full cry and needed attention. Glancing at Fox’s bewildered expression, he was better off with the dishes. “He’ll get the hang of it soon.”
She went to tend the baby, while her mind lingered over the man she’d left in the kitchen. He’d made it sound like a joke, but what if he’d been serious? Babies scared him, that much was obvious. She chalked that up to a lack of experience. Easily remedied, despite his doubts. But what sort of pain or fears would make a man like Fox Colton wake up crying in the night?
It wasn’t her place to ask.
Chapter 5
Fox had learned to recognize treasure when he saw it in horses and in people. Kelsey was pure gold with a little magic thrown in. In a breeding program he’d call it the X-factor, an intangible no amount of genetic testing or analysis could account for.
Within days, she’d managed to get the baby on a schedule that let all three of them sleep through most of the night. He didn’t wake up anymore and unlike his brother and sister-in-law, Kelsey never appeared exhausted or bleary-eyed in the mornings.
She picked up on the routine he preferred in the office and around the ranch. With her overseeing the pregnancy verifications he had the herd ready for winter in record time. Once he was sure she could handle herself on a horse, he encouraged her to go and ride the property while the baby napped in the office.
Baby John loved the horses, gurgling in delight and reaching for them whenever they took him around the barn or out to one of the yards. Fox occasionally interrupted his day with research for a pack or sling that would allow the baby to ride with them, but he closed the window before making the purchase. Baby John was only a temporary resident. There would be time for Fox to ride out with Kelsey once the baby was back where he belonged.
The blood typing had been inconclusive. Soon, thanks to Agent Roberts’s request for a rush order, the FBI lab would send them the results of the DNA tests.
Fox glanced across the office where Kelsey leaned back against her desk, her legs stretched out and a research paper in hand. Beside her, the baby scooted around on a blanket making happy noises. They couldn’t keep this up indefinitely, but it worked for now.
These everyday moments reminded Fox of his mother and the early years when his life had felt perfect. Almost perfect. How different would his life be if his parents had lived?
Kelsey, engrossed in the reading material, caught a squishy ring with various textures when the baby flung it aside. She returned it to him, over and over again. Why had they purchased that item? Teething, grasping and cognitive development, he recalled.
He was sure things hadn’t been so well researched and labeled when he was a baby. He turned out okay. Mostly. “I can’t remember when my dad started hitting me.” Surely his father wouldn’t have struck an infant. He thought of his new nephew and his older niece. Had he been a toddler the first time his dad delivered a painful blow?
That image seemed too early. His mom would’ve kept him out of range if she’d known his dad was violent.
“Fox?”
The horror in her voice, on her face, snapped him out of his reverie. “Sorry. I look at him and can’t imagine causing him pain but...”
Her initial shock was already fading to comprehension. “You wonder when you’ll snap and turn into an abuser.”
He pushed his reading glasses to the top of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It sounded ridiculous when she said it.
“My money’s on never.” She returned her attention to the baby and whatever she was reading.
“You’re awfully certain.” He walked over, suddenly afraid to touch the baby.
She gazed up at him. “You’re a scientist, you know better.”
Maybe on a logical level, but having the baby around triggered all the old worries.
“Picasso had four children,” she stated. Her lips slanted into a frown. “None of the
m turned out to be phenomenal painters.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it.”
“They each had their own skills and talents, separate from their genetic history. None of us are merely the sum of our parents.”
“I’ve disappointed you,” he said. Her confidence in him eased the worst of his fears. “Forgive me for being human.”
“Done.” She turned a radiant smile on the baby. “Becoming our parents is a universal fear.”
“Worse when your parent sets a lousy example.”
“True,” she allowed. “But come on. A person capable of beating up a kid wouldn’t have taken in a child the way you did.” She stood, putting the baby into his arms before he could protest.
“I didn’t have the best examples, either.” She folded the blanket, draped it over the side of the portable crib.
The baby found a button on his shirt, his tiny fingers already working to explore it. “I know I’m being dumb about it.”
“You’re not. It’s natural, as I said.” She held out her arms and Fox wanted to walk into the embrace she clearly intended for the child. “I worked as a nanny one summer for a family expecting their third child. They had two little boys and this time it was a girl. The mother was terrified.”
“Why?”
“Because her mother and grandmother were obsessed with body image. All her adult life she struggled to be healthy, to break those negative messages and cycles. The baby wasn’t even born yet and she was brainstorming protective solutions.”
“Those are behavior patterns, not genetics.” He understood the point she was trying to make, but there was another facet to his trouble.
In his memories, his mother had been perfect and Aunt Mara a poor substitute. He was grateful his aunt had opened her home to Fox and Sloane, but somehow Fox always irritated her, so he stayed out of her way. It was sad and lonely, but he had Sloane to help him get through it.
“My mom was amazing. It baffled me for years, when I learned not all dads were like mine, why she married an abusive person.”