He wrapped Brian in his comforter and went for the door, his mind on autopilot. On the way down the outside steps to his car, he grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and called Allie. When she answered, her voice groggy with sleep, he immediately blurted out, “Something’s wrong. Brian’s sick. I’m on my way to the hospital with him.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, her calm voice, her reassurance. He couldn’t. Talking was the last thing he could do at the moment.
He was too consumed with fear.
ALLIE PARKED in the hospital’s parking lot near the E.R. and sprinted inside. When she reached the waiting room, she saw Mike immediately. He was holding a fussy Brian, and he looked desperate.
“Hi,” she said, sitting next to him. “How’s Brian?”
“They haven’t seen him yet.” Mike sighed. “I’m sorry I called you. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’m glad you called me.” Allie leaned over and ran her hand gently over Brian’s forehead. Mike was right. He had a fever.
“He’ll be fine,” she said.
Mike nodded, but tension oozed from him. Brian was sitting in his lap, his head against Mike’s chest. Mike kept rubbing the baby’s back and murmuring soft words. For a man who didn’t know a thing about babies, he was doing a great job.
They waited another twenty minutes before a nurse called Brian’s name. Mike stood up, started forward, then looked back at her. He seemed surprised, but grateful, when he saw she was following him. The nurse led them into the back section of the E.R. to a small room with two chairs and a bed. Mike put Brian on the bed and held him there, and Allie stood on the other side to help if she needed to.
The nurse asked Mike what Brian’s symptoms were. Then she weighed the baby and took his temperature. Brian cried softly during the exam, settling down only when the nurse left and Mike once again held him.
“He’s even hotter than he was at home,” Mike said flatly. “I don’t know what happened.”
Allie patted his arm. “Try not to worry,” she said soothingly. “It wasn’t anything you did wrong. And I’m sure it’ll turn out to be nothing serious. Babies’ temperatures go up higher than adults’ when they’re sick.”
Mike didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t say anything. While they waited, Allie studied the room. It was a standard E.R. examination room. Although the hospital was fairly small, it was well-equipped.
She’d wondered if being in a hospital would make her nostalgic for med school. Instead, she felt relieved. She wasn’t certain what path was right for her in life, but she knew in her heart she couldn’t handle a baby in pain, wasn’t meant to come into this room in a white coat or green scrubs and deliver bad news to frightened parents.
A few minutes later, the doctor walked in. She was a young woman with a wide smile. “What an angel,” she said, looking at Brian, then at Mike. “He’s the spitting image of you,” she marveled.
“He has a fever,” Mike said rapidly. “And I think he’s in pain.”
The doctor read Brian’s chart, and then examined him. It didn’t take her long to find the problem—an ear infection.
“It happens sometimes at this age,” she told them, writing in Brian’s chart. “I’ll give you a prescription, and the nurse will tell you how to bring down his fever.”
“He won’t lose his hearing?” Mike asked.
The doctor smiled. “Nope. In a couple of days, take him to his regular doctor to check his progress.”
After the doctor left, a nurse came in and handed Mike a prescription for antibiotics. Then she gave Brian a dose of acetaminophen, walked them through how to bring down the fever with lukewarm baths and sent them home.
“You two have been up all night,” she said sympathetically. “I hope you can get some rest tomorrow. Or today, I should say.”
Of course she assumed they were Brian’s parents. It made Allie feel uneasy—but, somehow, good.
When they reached the parking lot, Allie turned to Mike. “I’ll wake up Cliff Hemphill and tell him you need this prescription filled in a hurry.”
“Wake him up?”
“Happens to him all the time,” Allie said. “Either let people wake you up, or run a twenty-four-hour pharmacy. While I get the medicine, you can take Brian home and give him his lukewarm bath.”
For a minute, she thought Mike was going to protest. He looked at Brian for a moment, then said, “Okay. Thanks.” He sighed. “At least a chef knows what lukewarm water is.” He turned his gaze on her. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I didn’t know what to do,” he said.
She could see how rattled he was. “You did just the right thing,” she said. “I’ll see you back at your place.”
Mike gently strapped the fussing baby into the car seat. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re too good to me.” With a rueful smile, he added, “Be careful, or I might get used to it.”
She knew he was teasing, but after he’d made the statement, his smile faded and his gaze held hers.
Allie found herself holding her breath as a tingling awareness feathered across her skin. Then Brian began to cry, and the spell was broken.
“Have to get him home,” Mike said, looking away. “I’ll leave the doors unlocked.”
Allie nodded. She’d known Mike for years, but suddenly, things were changing between them. From his expression she was fairly certain Mike wasn’t too happy about the changes.
But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t.
WHAT COULD possibly have made him call Allie? He couldn’t say, “made him decide to call Allie,” because he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d just called.
Driving slowly home, Brian snuffling in his car seat, Mike chewed his lower lip. Daniel would have come in an instant, would have driven Mike and Brian to the hospital, would have stayed until the situation was under control. He had a houseful of boys who must have gotten sick at some time or other.
Instead, he’d called Allie.
Maybe she’d been on his mind because they’d spent the afternoon cleaning out Baby Heaven. Or maybe she’d just been on his mind. That moment in the hospital parking lot—that had scared him.
In the back seat, Brian’s snuffles escalated to wails. “We’ll be home in a minute,” Mike said soothingly, feeling that he wanted to call the baby something like “sweetheart,” or “angel.”
Yep, he was losing it. Big-time.
THE PHARMACIST had come cheerfully to the rescue, wearing jeans and a pajama top. Allie got back to Mike’s apartment with the medicine to find Mike holding Brian, sitting in the white rocker lulling him to sleep. He overwhelmed the rocker, looking like a man sitting in a child’s chair. His vivid eyes gazed up at her, and he whispered, “He’s stopped crying, and his temperature’s down to a hundred already.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Resting comfortably and doing as well as can be expected,” he said, twisting his mouth into a wry smile as he remembered her saying the same thing about Barney. “How about you?”
“I pulled lots of all-nighters in med school. I’m a pro. How will you get through tomorrow? Today, actually.”
“Ask me tonight.”
Allie cleared her throat. “Brian should stay up here today, not necessarily in bed, but he needs rest, not excitement.”
He looked startled by the idea. “I don’t know how I can arrange that. I have to be downstairs, and I’m sure not going to leave him alone.”
“I was thinking,” she said hesitantly, because she had been thinking—thinking she was about to do the wrong thing, “that if the crew could do without me, I could stay with him today. Just this once.”
“You shouldn’t be using your time that way,” Mike said.
“I’d be doing it instead of waiting tables,” she insisted. “While he naps, I’ll rest.”
“I don’t…”
“What are your options? It’s time for you to go downstairs right now. It’s too early to call babysitters. I don’t mind, really.�
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Mike’s face was a study in conflicting feelings. “It’s very kind of you to offer,” he said, “and you’re right, I need help immediately. I might be able to find somebody else by noon…”
“Don’t worry about that yet,” Allie told him. Her own insides were full of conflicting feelings. “Let’s give him his first dose of medicine, then you get ready for work. We’ll be fine.”
While they gave Brian his medicine, Mike’s hands occasionally brushed hers, and each time she felt a spark of new life in her tired body. She had to concentrate on Brian, keep her mind off her surprising reaction to Mike’s slightest touch.
“Look at him,” Allie said, smoothing Brian’s damp, curly hair back from his forehead. “He’s sound asleep.”
He was, his head buried under Mike’s chin, his fingers clutching Mike’s collar, his knees drawn up with Mike’s arm around them to keep him close. The image of the two of them touched her somewhere down deep in a place she was afraid to go.
“Think I could get him into bed without waking him up?”
“If you can turn a turkey on its side in a hot oven, you can get him into bed.” She smiled at him, and it seemed to increase his confidence.
She admitted to herself how glad she was that he’d called on her to help, that she was here with him. Now he looked calm, ready to see Brian through this glitch in his otherwise healthy state.
Mike stood slowly and carried Brian, still snuggled up, to his crib. She joined him and leaned over the crib railings. “He’s the most beautiful child,” she whispered. “He looks—”
She turned to gaze up at Mike, not wanting to see the remarkable resemblance of man to child but forcing herself to confront it. What she confronted were his eyes, and something in them turned her to jelly, pushing her doubts down deep inside her. He lowered his mouth to hers and brushed it softly. She felt more than a spark, a jolt of electricity as their lips met, then a sense of falling through space when he deepened the kiss. She responded to it with all her heart and soul, and when he raised his arms, she knew he would put them around her to hold her close.
Instead, he pushed himself away. “I’m sorry,” he said, making distance between them. “It’s been an emotional night. I didn’t mean to…”
Her eyes felt heavy. Her mouth felt swollen, even though his touch had been so light, and much too brief. “For me, too,” she said softly.
“I have to shower and get down to the kitchen,” he said in a hurry, continuing to back away. “Do you mind if I—”
“Close the nursery door and I’ll sit here with Brian while you dress,” she said, but just now, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He gave her one last, confused look. When the door closed behind him, she collapsed into the rocker. Her whole body zinged with pleasure. She wrapped her arms around herself and wished they were Mike’s arms holding her tight against his chest, the length of his body.
The shower ran, and she shivered, imagining him soaping himself, picturing the water running over his muscular body. She ached with longing.
She wanted him. It came as a shock to her. She was in the grip of full-blown desire. And she wanted to believe the kiss had been a sign from him that he was seeing her differently—and liking what he saw.
Or was it just a sign of appreciation from a frightened new father?
She heard a soft knock on the door, got up and opened it to see Mike holding out a cup of coffee. How long had she been daydreaming? He was dressed and smelling of something nice and woodsy—and standing as far away from her as his arm could reach.
Yum. Aloud, she said, “Manna from heaven. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
He shrugged awkwardly. “I’ll come up when things slow down to see how he’s doing,” he said, “but if there’s any change for the worse, call me immediately.”
“Okay.” She let her eyes drift over him for a moment, but he looked away. “Cream and sugar in the kitchen,” he said, “and somebody will bring cinnamon rolls as soon as they’re out of the oven.” He gave her a shy, sidelong glance. “Then eggs and bacon and some of those biscuits.”
And with that romantic announcement, he skittered down the stairs.
Allie leaned against the doorjamb. She liked her coffee with cream, and her men sweet.
WHAT HAD HE DONE? Just as he’d thought he’d gotten through his first big crisis, he’d gone and kissed Allie.
And he was very much afraid she’d liked it.
He didn’t have time to do right by a kid. He sure didn’t have time for a relationship with a woman, because he was supposed to be bonding with the kid.
And if he grew really attached to her…
She’d leave the valley to get established in her career. He couldn’t leave the valley. He had the restaurant, and now he had a baby who needed to put down roots.
So he’d screwed up once, but he wouldn’t again. He and Allie could be friends, but that was all.
Oddly depressed by the thought, he started preheating the big ovens and the grill.
He missed Barney like he’d miss an arm.
Why, oh, why had he let himself kiss Allie?
Dear Lord, he had a baby to raise.
As these thoughts rambled through his head, he realized he was sweating like a longshoreman.
He’d almost suggested she nap on his bed, but the thought of Allie lying on his bed had sent a flash of sensation to his groin, as it was doing now.
He had to get off this dangerous, winding road. Mountains rising to the right, and a sheer drop on the left. A barrier in one direction, a dive into despair on the other. They had totally different, totally incompatible goals. She was going out in the world. He was staying right here in LaRocque.
All alone, he sent up a cry of pain. “Ah-h-h,” he yelled, just as Mildred Witherington walked through the back door with two pans of unbaked cinnamon rolls ready for their last rising and trip to the oven. The pans she’d expertly balanced tipped, and he dashed forward to rescue them.
“What’s the matter with you this morning?” she said crossly. “I’m only fifteen minutes early, and I’ve been walking through that door with something or other for four years.” She glared at him. “When do I get to meet that baby? The town’s talking about nothing else.”
He didn’t like the way she said it, that the town was talking. Mildred had been his pastry chef since he’d decided he couldn’t handle that job and everything else. She was well-known as the town’s best cook. She lived three doors away from the restaurant and she delivered eight pies, four cakes and now, forty-eight cinnamon rolls every day, walking them over as soon as they were ready, and seemed to enjoy it in her own glum, uncooperative way. On the other side of the coin, she was the worst gossip in town, and he had a bad feeling that the gossip was, once again, about him. And Brian.
Mike said, “What’s wrong with me is that Brian got an ear infection and I’ve been up all night. You can meet Brian as soon as he’s well.”
“Oh, the poor little thing,” Mildred crooned. “Earaches are so painful. If it would help, I could come over and bake the cinnamon rolls.”
Babies seemed to change everybody’s personalities. “Thanks,” Mike said hastily, “but I’ll have plenty of help in just a few minutes.”
“Well, all right,” Mildred said. “I have to run. I have cake layers baking.”
And phone calls to make.
Mike just had time to breathe a sigh of relief before Maury stepped in. After they’d said their hellos, Mike said, “Who were all those people in the kitchen when I got home?”
“Well, Colleen’s Uncle Fred was on the grill, but he wasn’t that great, so I’m on the grill now and he does toast and waffles. Becky’s daughter plates the food and Colleen and Becky wait tables like always.”
“So we’ve hired two extra people.”
“No, that’s just breakfast.”
“Enough!” Mike said. “I get the picture, and I’m grateful to everybody who’s helping, especi
ally you, for pulling it all together.”
Maury blushed and ducked his head.
Mike’s smile faded. “This baby, Maury, is more trouble than you could ever imagine. Thank the lord for Allie. Brian got sick last night and she’s taking care of him today.”
“That’s what I thought when Barney keeled over,” Maury admitted. “That I was glad Allie was here.”
Mike gazed at him. “It was scary, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Maury muttered and turned away, getting ready to cook breakfasts to order.
Mike’s heart went out to him. His own childhood was nothing compared to Maury’s. The boy would wear those scars the rest of his life even though Daniel had given him a safe, dependable environment, and the worst thing that could happen to him now was that he’d scorch a pan. But the past must have folded in on him, the terror, the feelings of helplessness, when Barney’d had his attack.
And next, Mike had brought Brian home.
“How’s he doing this morning?”
Maury had read his mind. He was trying to handle the matter of Brian gracefully, but it had to be hurting him. He still stood with his back to Mike, working away at the breakfast prep, and Mike went over to give him a hand.
“His fever came down right away, so I think he’s better. I tell you, son, when he got sick it nearly scared me to death. It turned out to be an ear infection. I guess babies get them all the time, but I didn’t know that. You can guess what a jerk I felt like. Somebody makes me the guardian of his child—biggest responsibility in the world, Maury—and right off, I screw it up.”
“No, you didn’t,” Maury said, looking straight at him now. “You don’t know what it’s like to have parents who screw up.”
The pain and anger in his face, the tension in his body, made Mike so sad that he said without thinking, “Yes, I do. Not like yours did, but it left me hurting inside just like you.”
“But you’re happy now.”
“It took time.”
Maury’s brow furrowed in thought, making him look more like an English bulldog than a St. Bernard. “Daniel and Uncle Ian had the same parents. Why didn’t they end up hurting inside?”
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