by Mindy Neff
“Oh, Debbie,” she whispered, “you can’t imagine how much I wish you were here.” The tears that were never far from the surface ached in her throat, swam in her eyes.
She’d been like an ostrich, sticking her head in the sand, trying to ignore what was to come. In some ridiculous corner of her mind, the part that had been in near-complete denial, she’d figured if she didn’t think about it, it might all go away.
Or maybe she’d thought that when the babies arrived, she’d simply handle it, catch on, and if that were the case, there was no sense worrying herself half to death.
Well, she should have worried much sooner!
She didn’t know what she’d expected. She’d definitely been in denial, she realized now, like playing dolls as a child. Pretend.
It hadn’t totally registered that this was reality.
Now reality hit her full force with squalling babies, diaper changes every two minutes, sheer terror over every hiccup and choking sound.
This wasn’t playing house with a pretend mommy and daddy and baby.
She couldn’t put away the dolls.
Oh, she’d had it all planned out so nicely. While Cheyenne was gone, she’d make a few phone calls, pump a couple of bottles of breast milk, watch the two little cherubs sleep and marvel at how precious they were.
Nothing was going as planned.
The baby nursing at her left breast wasn’t cooperating, and every time she tried to make an adjustment, the other baby—who was propped on a pillow in her lap—got jostled and lost its hold on the nipple of the bottle she’d popped in its mouth.
Both were squalling again and she had no idea which baby was which. They’d both messed up their clothes, and during the last horrendously scary clothing change, she’d forgotten which color she’d dressed which kid in.
Short of undressing them and looking at their identifying equipment, she hadn’t a clue who was nursing and who was drinking breast milk from the bottle.
So much for organization.
“Okay, okay,” she soothed, perilously close to tears herself. “Let’s try something different.”
With a lot of fussing and very little finesse, she switched the babies’ positions, putting the one in her lap to her right breast and managing to get the other one settled with the bottle.
She gave a fleeting thought to the sanitary issue of their sharing the same bottle without her sterilizing the nipple, and decided it was simply too bad.
She felt like a dairy cow. Her life suddenly revolved around feeding. If the babies weren’t nursing, she was pumping the stuff into the bottles.
It had all seemed much more civilized in the hospital.
Where had she gone wrong?
And what was the matter with her technique? Now neither of the kids was cooperating.
She gave up, feeling like a total failure. She could organize a whole boardroom full of disagreeable advertising executives but couldn’t handle two tiny babies.
She was so tired, she wanted to lie down and die.
The front door opened and a blast of cold air rushed in.
Emily quickly adjusted her shirt and pulled a blanket over the babies.
Now they were both screaming beneath a tent.
She took one look at Cheyenne and burst into tears.
“Here now,” he said softly. He removed his gloves and hat, then lifted the babies, who were now lying side by side in her lap, screaming their little lungs out, into his arms.
The fact that he lifted them so easily and capably made her cry even harder.
She buried her face in her hands, then jolted a few minutes later when she felt Cheyenne’s fingers brush the top of her head.
She looked up, saw him standing over her with concern written all over his handsome face. “Where are the babies?”
“I put them in the crib.”
“But they’re still crying!” Duh.
“So are you.”
Double duh. She felt like an idiot. “We have to take care of them.”
“We have to take care of you first. They’ll be fine for a few minutes. It won’t hurt them to cry.”
He picked her up and carried her down the hall and into the bathroom. She didn’t have enough energy to object.
He set her down on the closed lid of the toilet and said, “Stay put.”
“I can’t—”
“Let me call the shots, trouble.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Plenty of trouble.”
He bent down and kissed her forehead, then left the room.
Minutes later the babies quieted.
The lack of sound was like a taunt, a screaming billboard that advertised to the world that Emily Vincent Bodine didn’t have a clue how to handle two little babies.
Emily wept again.
Chapter Seven
“What is it?” Cheyenne asked when he came back into the bathroom.
“They’re not crying anymore. Why wouldn’t they stop doing that for me?” She was a mess. Her hair was sticking out, her orange flannel shirt was stained and didn’t match the green stretch pants. Neither did her wool socks, she realized. One was black and the other navy blue. How had this happened? Probably when she’d had to change her clothes along with the babies’.
She was a walking fashion disaster.
And she was still wearing the damned maternity pants!
She put her hands over her face as though that would somehow make her invisible.
When she heard the bathwater running, she peeked through her fingers, then lowered her hands.
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Yes. You’ll take time.”
“I think I should warn you that if you keep bossing me around like this, I’ll still be crying a week from now.”
He shuddered. “Please don’t.”
She wished she could laugh. “I’m stronger than this. I don’t cry. I’m just…I’m so sorry.” In more ways than one.
“You’ve been strong for everybody—for so long. Please let me take care of you.”
Oh, no. When he spoke to her in that deep, soft, incredibly compassionate voice, she was a goner. She held her breath. Swallowed several times. It didn’t help. The emotions were more than she could handle. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks.
“Oh, baby. Don’t.” He scooped her up, traded places and sat with her in his lap.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never acted this way in my life.”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone so soon.”
She sniffed and laid her head against his shoulder. He smelled like fresh air and masculinity. “I carried those babies in my womb for nine months. You’d think I’d be better at this. That I’d know what to do.”
“You’ll catch your stride.”
“When? When they’re in college?”
He chuckled and started to help her undress.
“Wait!”
His hands paused over the buttons. “Can you manage on your own?”
“I managed while you were gone. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I don’t think I looked quite this bad when you left.”
“You look just fine. And I’m sorry I had to leave you. I’ve taken vacation time, so it won’t happen again.”
“I’m already messing up your life.”
“You’re not messing up my life.” He stood and deposited her on her feet, then reached for a brush on the countertop and rummaged in the drawer for a hair band. Shutting off the bathwater, he gently gathered her hair in his hands.
“What are you doing?” Chills raced up and down her spine.
“Did you want to get your hair wet?”
“No. It takes forever to dry, but—”
“Then I’m going to put it up for you. Don’t expect miracles, but at least this’ll keep it off your shoulders.”
She closed her eyes as he ran a brush through her thick, frizzy hair, lifting it, corralling it in a soft fabric band.
Steam from the water fogged the mirror, filled the air with mois
t heat and a sense of expectancy she couldn’t name. The sensual, saunalike atmosphere, coupled with Cheyenne’s gentle ministrations, moved something inside her.
She moaned, felt him go still behind her.
Embarrassment flooded her. What in the world? Her nose was red, her eyes were swollen, not a stitch of her clothing matched, and here she’d been flirting with sensual thoughts, assigning sensual thoughts to him, too.
“Um, I think I can handle it from here.”
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him.
Because she wanted in the worse way to turn in his arms, to press up against him, to kiss him, to feel his body respond to hers…
Good grief.
“I’ll be right outside the door. Give a yell if you need anything.”
She nodded. She needed something all right. Like less-wild hormones.
Who ever heard of sexual desire, acute sexual desire, waylaying a woman this soon after childbirth?
THE BABIES WERE ASLEEP at last and Emily was curled on the couch in Cheyenne’s arms. She probably shouldn’t be cuddling this way. It felt too right. Too much like a truly married couple.
But she couldn’t make herself move.
“Do you think they sent us home with the wrong babies?”
She felt his chest shake as he let out a soft burst of laughter. “I think they’ve got a pretty good system in place to keep that from happening.”
“Well, the ones in the hospital were certainly better behaved than these two.”
He chuckled again. “We’ll all find our step soon enough.”
And then she’d be gone. She would have accomplished her goal. To get the hang of taking care of the babies.
The thought made her sad.
On the other hand, her behavior today didn’t exactly make her a good contender for the mother-of-the-year award.
“I’m sorry I fell apart today.”
“Chance said this sort of thing is normal.”
“You called him?”
“Yeah. I was worried.”
She sighed. “Couldn’t keep the embarrassment just between us, hmm?”
He stroked her arm. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“You’re too kind. What did Chance say?”
“He’ll be out tomorrow to check on you and the kids.”
She nodded. “I’ll feel better, I’m sure. It’s ridiculous, really. I’m not normally inept. I’ve blazed my way nearly to the top of my field, and a woman doesn’t accomplish that feat without intelligence, drive and a whole lot of strength. Yet those two little babies knocked me right on my butt.”
“I wasn’t far behind you.”
She shifted against him, watched the flames in the fireplace, listened to the crackle as the log split and a shower of sparks were sucked up the flue. Outside, snowflakes swirled, gathering on the windowsill, only to be blown away by the wind.
She shivered and burrowed closer, telling herself she’d pull back in a minute.
“You know what worries me?”
“What?” His voice was quiet, his fingers gentle as they stroked her arm.
“That I won’t have enough time or arms or love to go around.”
He frowned. “You won’t?”
“With two of them, it’s hard, you know? I just want to hold the babies, stare into their sweet faces. But how do you do that when they both need attention? What if one of them ends up being slighted?”
“That’s what you have me for. Between the two of us, we can manage.”
“Do you think they feel it—that I’m not really their mother?”
“Emily, you are their mother. In every sense of the word. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
“It just feels…I can’t explain it. I look at those babies and I feel so full of love. But I feel so scared still. Debbie was the maternal one. She was the quintessential earth mother, made her own bread, sewed curtains, ate health food. She read cookbooks and parenting magazines, and when she wasn’t working at the day care center, she baby-sat all the neighbors’ kids.” Emily’s throat ached, but she told herself she wasn’t going to cry any more today. “I miss her,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“Why do bad things happen to such good people?”
He shook his head. Silence engulfed them.
“I don’t bake bread or sew, and my idea of healthy eating is a salad at a fast-food joint. I went to the day care center a couple of times, and I thought the kids were cute, but I never had the urge to ask if I could hold any of the babies.”
“Neither have I.”
“You’re a guy.”
His sensual mouth kicked up at the corners. “Glad you noticed.”
She laughed. “See what I mean? I’m so frazzled I was starting to look at you like you were a piece of furniture.” Which was as far from the truth as possible.
“Low blow. Maybe we should do something about that.”
“Like what?” She really wasn’t in top form. Otherwise she’d never have asked such an inane question, would have understood right off the bat what he was talking about. She didn’t date much, but she knew the flirting game, knew when a man was looking at her with sex on his mind.
And Cheyenne was definitely looking at her with sex on his mind.
It was absolutely amazing. After the way she’d acted today, so totally inept, the way she looked. In her opinion, there wasn’t a chance in creation that a man would find anything remotely sexy about her.
But Cheyenne obviously did.
With his finger, he tipped up her chin. His eyes were dark and serious. She could see the faint shadow of stubble on his face.
She held her breath, certain this wasn’t a good idea, helpless to move, feeling like prey caught in the hypnotic gaze of the hunter.
His head lowered.
“We shouldn’t be—”
“I know,” he said, and brushed her lips with his.
Fire, she thought. She was on fire. She shifted against him, turned into him, cupped her hand around the back of his neck and held him closer, harder, encouraging him to take the kiss further, deeper.
He made her feel like a woman. And she desperately needed that right now. After the day she’d had, she needed this. Just this.
She felt his control and wished he’d unleash it. She tried to convey that, moaned into his mouth, twisted closer, nearly climbing onto his lap.
He tucked her against him, poured himself into the kiss. His tongue was warm and clever, tasted of coffee and masculinity. Tasted of seduction and protection.
And she wanted more. So much more.
A faint cry penetrated her consciousness.
Cheyenne broke the kiss, his breath coming as fast as hers.
“Whoa, that went a little further than I’d intended.”
Not nearly far enough, Emily thought.
And then reality settled around her. What in the world had she been thinking? She’d practically begged for that kiss. As though she was needy.
Good grief. Hadn’t she displayed enough of that neediness today?
Both babies were crying now. Blue was on his feet, glancing toward the hall, then back at Cheyenne and Emily as though they were falling down on the job. It was time she took care of business, showed a little strength, some competence.
But she still only had one set of arms.
And two babies to hold.
She saw Cheyenne’s gaze settle on her chest and she looked down. To her utter mortification, she realized the front of her sweatshirt was drenched—and so was his shirt.
Her face flamed. Well, this is sexy as all get-out, she thought grimly.
She eased off the couch, winced a little as her stitches tugged. Because she’d compartmentalized the pregnancy as a service, distanced herself from it, she was continually amazed that her body did all these perfectly normal things—like produce milk.
Cheyenne stood with her, steadied her. “Boy or girl?”
“What?” She
was still trying to figure out how to gracefully apologize for leaking all over the front of him.
“You want Alicia or Hunter?”
“Oh.” She moved toward the nursery. “We might have to unwrap them to tell which is which. I ran out of color-coordinated clothes and lost track.”
“Color-coordinated”
“Yes. I was trying to dress Hunter in blue and Alicia in pink so I could tell them apart.”
“Alicia’s face is rounder. And her lips are more bowed.”
She stopped in the middle of the hall and he nearly ran into her. “You can tell them apart?”
“Yes.”
She stared up at him for a full five seconds. Then she whirled around and marched into the nursery, examining both squalling babies.
And there it was. Alicia’s cheeks were definitely chubbier.
Oh, this was just awful.
Why hadn’t she seen this? Cheyenne was a man. He was more maternal than she was.
WHEN THEY GOT the babies fed and back to sleep, Emily followed Cheyenne down the hall.
“Night,” he said, knowing they’d probably be up in a couple hours again.
“Night.” He could tell she was dead on her feet.
And so was he. They’d both almost nodded off in the rocking chairs.
He lay down on the bed and was astonished when Emily followed him right into the room, crawled across the mattress and fell into a dead sleep against him.
For a minute he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t think she’d realized she’d gotten into his bed, instead of her own.
Should he point it out? Be a good guy and put her in her own bed?
She snuggled next to him. Nah, he decided, and shifted her so that his arm was around her. Her hair smelled of vanilla and baby powder. An erotic combination.
The feel of her soft breasts pillowed on his chest was going to keep him awake. He couldn’t remember ever being this tired in his life. He had an idea he hadn’t yet learned the true meaning of the word.
Because with Emily’s body snuggled next to his, he had little chance of sleeping.
WEAK SUNSHINE filtered through the curtains. Emily snuggled closer to the warmth against her side. Then her eyes popped open.
Cheyenne was staring down at her.