He'd been an incredible partner dealing with the inevitable meltdowns with Miles—better than she'd ever dared to dream.
"If I had to guess, he's probably scared that if we have a baby, we won't want him anymore."
Nate's expression was open and concerned. "You want to have that talk with him that we've been putting off?"
It wasn't really a matter of putting it off. Rachel had explained obstacles, and they'd agreed to wait until some of those obstacles resolved. But, clearly they needed to talk with Miles now. She nodded.
They found him in the renovated barn, on his knees with a lap full of dog. His arms were around Millie's neck, and his face was buried in her fur.
Kayla's heart melted.
Nate's boot knocked against the floor, and Miles raised his head. He quickly stood, brushing his face with one hand. His eyes were red-rimmed.
"Hey, buddy. Can we talk for a minute before you guys go on your walk?"
Miles's expression closed off completely.
Nate reached down to pat the excited dog, accepting the swipe of Millie's tongue in a doggie kiss.
Oh, how she loved this man.
Nate straightened. "Kayla and I have loved having you be a part of our lives these past months."
She was watching close enough that she saw Miles physically brace himself for what was coming next. Tears pricked her eyes, but she furiously blinked them back.
"We've been talking with Rachel, and we want to move forward with adoption. There are some obstacles—there's apparently still some long-lost great aunt—"
She put a hand to Nate's forearm to stop him, because Miles's face had lit, and he wasn't listening any longer.
His eyes had widened, and she could feel him vibrating. "You want to—?" He gulped.
"Adopt you," she said softly, her voice hushed with tears.
She saw the tremble of his lips, which was quickly eclipsed by the giant grin that stretched across his face. "For real?"
"For real," Nate confirmed. "We love you, and we want you to be a part of our family forever."
This was what she'd wanted for so long, and now, with Miles and Nate, she had it. And maybe one day soon, a baby. Her forever family.
Dear Reader
Thank you for reading Keeping Kayla. Like Kayla, I have always loved dogs and my family currently owns two rescue dogs. Consider adoption—there are a lot of dogs in need out there!
Thank you for reading!
Connect with me online:
www.lacywilliams.net
[email protected]
Sneak peek: Melting Megan
Megan Fuller, M.D. paused outside the exam room door, smoothing her white coat out of habit, patting her pocket to check that the stethoscope was still there. She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. They needed an adjustment. They’d been slipping all day.
Last patient.
Based on how her day was going, inside she could expect to find a crotchety grandpa or a talkative mom with a toddler. She hadn't had an appointment end on time all week.
She glanced at the patient chart in her hand, squinting at the tiny type. Dan Evans. Crotchety grandpa it was.
She only let herself breathe for a moment, then pasted on a smile, knocked softly, and opened the door.
A man looked up from where he sat on the exam table. But this was no grandpa.
He was shirtless, and his muscled shoulders stretched for miles. His abs were defined, and she pretended her quick perusal was simple professional interest even as heat suffused her cheeks.
"Hello. I'm Doctor Fuller," she said quickly.
He nodded, his chocolate eyes darting away, lashes a dark smudge against his cheekbones as he stared at the floor.
His jaw was hidden by two days of scruff, but he had an elegant nose that defied the ruggedness of his features. His hair was... a mess. It looked as if it'd been shorn, buzzed almost to his scalp, but was now growing out—that awkward stage in between two male hairstyles.
It did not detract from his appearance.
As she stepped into the room, she saw the cowboy hat atop his button-up shirt, both lying on the chair in the corner.
A cowboy.
She pushed back the instant flare of attraction—how anyone could not be attracted to the man was beyond her—and let her physician's eyes catalog. His tension was obvious in his grip on the exam table and the muscle ticking in his jaw. Had she offended him with the perusal she couldn't help? Should she apologize? Pretend it hadn't happened?
"To what do I owe the honor of your visit today?" she asked, hoping a bit of humor might ease them both into the appointment.
"Stitches."
He twisted his torso and gave her a glimpse of the gash across his ribs, beneath his arm.
"Uh-oh." She set the chart down on the counter and moved to the sink to scrub her hands, putting her back to him momentarily. "Please don't tell me you got it doing something reckless like bull riding."
He didn't respond.
She glanced over her shoulder to see his eyes cut away. As if he'd been watching her while her back was turned.
"Or a farm implement gone rogue?" She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and leaned her hips against the counter to dry her hands.
The cowboy didn't look up, didn't crack even a hint of a smile.
"I tried to butterfly it, but the bandages wouldn't hold." He spoke to the floor. As a former ER doctor from Houston, she was used to all different reactions from patients. From talkative to comatose, from patients handcuffed to the bed screaming obscenities, to laboring mothers. In Houston, the cowboy's reaction wouldn't have blipped her radar as unusual. But she'd taken over the family practice in Taylor Hills two weeks ago, and every single person she'd seen had chatted her ear off. From the grandmothers who detailed their entire medical histories, to the men in their mid-forties who questioned her credentials because she looked younger than her thirty-five years, they all wanted to talk.
Not the cowboy.
Fine. She needed to get home to Julianne and Brady anyway.
"Let's take a look." She stepped to the exam table, unable to douse her awareness of his muscled form.
Ignore it. Pretend he's a grandpa.
Her internal instructions didn't help. Especially when she touched the corded back and he startled.
"Sorry," she murmured. "Cold hands are a hazard of the profession."
She had to gently shift his muscled arm forward, out of her line of sight with another touch. He remained frozen, barely breathing.
Maybe the attraction zinging through her veins was one-sided. Maybe he was married, though she didn't see a ring on his finger.
The laceration wasn't deep, but she could see how the location would be difficult to treat without help. It was surrounded by a fading yellow bruise. Curving along his upper ribcage, every time he moved, the bandages would pull.
She stepped back, relieved for the momentary distance. "I can stitch you up, but you'll need to take it easy for several days."
He shook his head very slightly, still not looking at her.
"If you lift too much weight or haul... I don't know, bales of hay or a baby cow or something, you'll rip out the stitches, and we'll be right back here."
His gaze flicked to meet hers for the briefest second. Was that a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips? It disappeared too quickly to be sure.
"I'm serious."
His eyes were downcast again. "I can't afford time off."
"I can have the office phone your boss," she offered.
He immediately tensed up, shoulders rigid.
She glanced down at the counter, at his chart. "Oh. I have a sticky note here from Rene at the front desk. I think it says"—she squinted at the loopy handwriting—"you put down that you're a cash pay but normally the bills are sent to the... Triple H? I think she wanted me to find out if it was a mistake." She looked back up at the man.
His stare was hard, any hint of humor go
ne behind a blank mask. His eyes narrowed, his hands clenched. If she’d thought him tense before, she hadn’t met tense. She figured any second, he’d vibrate right off the table.
"I'm a cash pay." The words were said with deadly seriousness. And then she saw his throat work as he swallowed. Looked away again. "I'm good for it. I can make installments."
Pride was a funny thing. So he didn't want this Triple H to pay for the appointment. He still held that tension in every line of his body. The charge would only be for an appointment and sutures. She didn't know the ins and outs of billing—that's what an office manager was for—but how much could it cost?
She cleared her throat, forcing false brightness. "I'll make sure she gets it billed correctly." She reached up to the upper cabinet, pulled out a syringe. "Let me just get a local to numb the—"
"That's not necessary."
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Are you sure? Most patients find the needle uncomfortable." Uncomfortable was an understatement. Most people freaked out just looking at the curved surgical needle.
"I'm sure."
"Okaaaay."
She assembled needle and thread and washed her hands again for good measure.
He kept his focus on the floor as she moved close to the table.
"Can you hold your arm away for me?" she asked quietly.
He obliged, holding the limb aloft.
Several inches below the laceration was a fading scar she hadn't noticed on the first pass. Farming must be more dangerous than she’d thought.
"You'll feel a stick," she warned.
But he didn't jump at the first prick of the needle. She couldn't even be sure he was breathing.
"Deep breath," she said.
And then his chest expanded beneath her hand.
She kept stitching. Three. Four.
"Tetanus can be dangerous," she said. "I'd recommend a booster—"
"I'm current." His words were bit off, but when she adjusted her stance and glanced up at his face, he showed nothing of the pain he must be feeling. Good poker face.
She refocused on her task. Seven. Eight.
"I didn't see it on your chart—"
"I'm current." This on an exhale, the words would've been a howl if they’d been louder than a puff of air.
"Almost done." She just needed to tie... her opposite hand brushed his back as she manipulated the needle, and this time he did jump—away from her touch.
"Sorry," she muttered. "Hold still."
He went back to not breathing, and she tried to stifle the nerves. He was clearly not attracted to her. What was her problem?
"It's been a long day," she said. "Packed with appointments. It seems like every person in Taylor Hills wants to meet the new doctor. We could do a church potluck or something, but they all just want to book appointments…"
She forced the rambling words to a stop, snipped the end of the thread, and found her hand shaking slightly.
"Okay, you're done."
He was already off the table, his broad back to her as he reached for his shirt.
She backed toward the door. She hadn't been this flustered since her residency.
She didn't get it. She'd treated plenty of men. Handsome men.
The cowboy had barely looked at her. What—twice? Obviously, the flare of attraction she'd felt had been only in her mind. He couldn't wait to get out of here.
And then, his head turned as he shrugged into his shirt. Not all the way, as if he didn't dare look at her square on. "Thanks."
She saluted with his chart, which was silly because he couldn't see her, and ducked out, closing the exam room door behind her.
She rubbed a hand over her face. She was exhausted. Long days and interrupted sleep had worn her clear out. That's what the problem was. This had been an anomaly.
Maybe she'd imagined the whole thing.
BUY NOW
Also by Lacy Williams
Wild Wyoming Heart series (historical romance)
Marrying Miss Marshal
Counterfeit Cowboy
Cowboy Pride
Courted by a Cowboy
Triple H Brides series (contemporary romance)
Kissing Kelsey
Courting Carrie
Stealing Sarah
Keeping Kayla
Cowboy Fairytales series (contemporary romance)
Once Upon a Cowboy
Cowboy Charming
The Toad Prince
The Beastly Princess
The Lost Princess
Heart of Oklahoma series (contemporary romance)
Kissed by a Cowboy
Love Letters from Cowboy
Mistletoe Cowboy
Cowgirl for Keeps
Jingle Bell Cowgirl
Heart of a Cowgirl
3 Days with a Cowboy
Prodigal Cowgirl
Wyoming Legacy series (historical romance)
The Homesteader’s Sweetheart
Courted by a Cowboy
Roping the Wrangler
Return of the Cowboy Doctor
The Wrangler’s Inconvenient Wife
A Cowboy for Christmas
Her Convenient Cowboy
Her Cowboy Deputy
Not in a Series
Love’s Glimmer
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Dates
Santa Next Door
The Butterfly Bride
Secondhand Cowboy
Wagon Train Sweetheart (historical romance)
Copyright © 2017 by Lacy Williams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Keeping Kayla: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 4) Page 8