Dylan stared down at his nephew, not wanting to disturb him when he seemed so satisfied. “How do you know what to buy him?”
“There are several ways to go about it—baby magazines, parent classes, play groups. Stores have more books on the subject than a mother can read. The toy department at our local discount store has a lot of activity toys. The age range is printed on the box.”
“Parenthood made easy?”
“I doubt if it’s ever easy, but new parents can find help if they want it. The high school offers classes in the fall of the year. My friend Gwen and I were involved in getting them up and running.”
“Do mostly women attend?” Dylan lowered his finger to Timmy to see if the baby could grab it.
“Couples sign up, too—more dads each year.”
When Timmy caught hold of his finger, Dylan felt so protective toward the baby, his chest tightened. Realizing Shaye was watching him like a hawk, he tried to keep the conversation going to put them both at ease.
“What kinds of topics are covered?”
“Everything from making baby food to disciplining a toddler to dealing with a teenager. The course runs for ten weeks, each session about something different. Gwen teaches a couple of sessions. In fact, she travels around the state helping high schools develop programs for unwed mothers, teaching teachers how to counsel girls who find themselves pregnant.”
Keeping his tone conversational while he picked up Timmy, he mentioned, “I bought a few things this afternoon—diapers, a car seat and bottles like you use to feed him.”
He cast a glance at Shaye and saw she had gone very still. Dylan cradled Timmy in one arm. “He can come visit anytime.”
“I thought you were supposed to be getting ready for your show.” She was keeping her tone light but he could hear the worry.
“I was multitasking. While I shopped, I thought about the best photographs to display and the way I wanted to display them.”
“I see.”
She sounded upset and he wished he didn’t have to cause her this turmoil. “Shaye—”
Her doorbell rang and she looked both surprised and relieved.
“Are you expecting company?” he asked.
“No. But it could be one of my brothers. John likes to stop in and eat my leftovers.”
“He’s the unmarried one?”
Shaye nodded as she went to answer the door.
Tickling Timmy under the chin, thinking he saw a smile, Dylan heard Shaye say, “Dix! This is a surprise.”
“Sorry to bother you, Miss Shaye, but I need to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure, come on in.”
After Shaye’s guest entered the living room, Dylan studied the man. He was about five foot nine with red hair and a bristly red beard. Holding his Stetson in his hand, he looked to be in his sixties. His plaid shirt appeared new but his jeans had seen many washings.
When he spotted Dylan, he stopped short. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was in town on an errand. I can come back tomorrow.”
Clasping the man’s arm in a comforting gesture, Shaye assured him, “Tonight is fine. Dix Pepperdale, this is Dylan Malloy, Timmy’s uncle. Dylan, Dix is the foreman at Saddle Ridge Ranch.”
Dylan crossed to the man and extended his hand. The foreman shook it. His grip was firm and strong, and as sturdy as he was.
Sensing the cowboy wanted to have a private conversation with Shaye, Dylan nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll take Timmy in there and walk him around the table a few times.”
“You can just sit him in his carrier,” Shaye suggested.
“And miss private bonding time?” Dylan joked. Then knowing he couldn’t ignore Shaye’s fears, he assured her, “I’ll be careful with him.” He wasn’t going to ask her to trust him because he knew she didn’t.
“All right,” she agreed with a sigh.
In the kitchen Dylan had a conversation with his nephew to give Shaye even more privacy, although the conversation wasn’t a dialogue but a monologue. “Let me tell you how wonderful your mom was. She loved kids and that’s why she taught school. She would have helped you learn rhymes and colors and shapes. Your dad would have taught you all about numbers. They left this world much too soon. But they loved you very much.”
The baby looked at him as if he understood every word.
When Shaye came into the kitchen, she took Timmy from him as if she’d been away from the baby all day rather than a few minutes.
“A problem?” Dylan asked since she wasn’t volunteering anything.
“I don’t know. Dix thinks something’s going on with Kylie. She was dizzy today while she was working around the barn. He wouldn’t have known except he saw her hanging on to a stall as if the world was spinning. Yesterday morning she was late coming out to the barn and he said she looked really pale. He suggested she go see the doctor, but she insisted it was a flu bug and would pass. He’s worried. Not only because she does fifty percent of the chores around Saddle Ridge, but because he’s come to look on her as a daughter.”
“Where’s her husband in all of this?”
“I really shouldn’t say anything else.”
“It’s obvious if he didn’t even tell her he’d won a rodeo competition that something’s wrong with their marriage.”
“Dylan, I really can’t talk about it. Gwen, Kylie and I—”
He shook his head in frustration. “I know. The secret club of womanhood.”
“No secret club,” she responded. “It’s called loyalty.”
Maybe Shaye wasn’t just trying to keep him out of her life. Maybe, unlike some women he’d known, she didn’t compete with her friends but was there to support them.
“I’m trying to understand your life,” he admitted.
“And I’m afraid to let you anywhere near it.”
Although she was holding Timmy, he stepped very close to her. “Why?”
“Because I know how custody battles work.”
Now he understood a little better. In her occupation, she would be familiar with tugs of war over children. “I don’t want a custody battle.”
“No, but you might want Timmy, and I’m not taking any chances.”
Tired of their conversation, Timmy screwed up his face and began fussing.
“If we’re going to give him a bath, we’d better do it. He’ll soon be ready for his bottle,” she commented too politely.
Dylan didn’t know how to get around Shaye’s defenses. He didn’t know how to make her understand that he didn’t want to hurt her—he just wanted what was best for his nephew.
After they went upstairs, Shaye bustled about nervously, as if she wanted to get this over with…as if having Dylan on her second floor was a crime. Laying Timmy in his crib, she hurriedly gathered a little washcloth and towel, along with a one-piece sleeper with baseballs and bats printed all over it.
“I’m not going to jump you,” Dylan assured her.
When she looked at him, it seemed as if she made a conscious effort to relax. “I know you’re not.”
But they were both remembering what had happened downstairs in the kitchen unexpectedly, hotly, shoot-to-the-moon fantastically. At least he’d had a good time.
Had Shaye?
Good time or not, Shaye wasn’t going to let it happen again, and neither was he. Maybe she just needed that reassurance. “Can you simply look at the time I spend with Timmy as an opportunity for you to share responsibility?”
“I don’t want to share responsibility,” she stubbornly declared.
With a sigh, he shook his head. “Fine. Just tell me what I need to do.” He knew his voice was gruff. He knew he was pushing her. But damn it, he was going to bond with Timmy whether she wanted him to or not.
Turning her back on him, she went to the crib and began to undress Timmy. “You can fill the tub.” She pointed to a vinyl one on the floor by the chest. “Put about a half inch of water in it. That slanted seat keeps him out of the water. You want the
water just a little bit warm— Maybe I should do it.”
This time his voice grew louder. “For goodness’ sake, Shaye. I’ll be able to tell if the water’s too cold or too hot.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, glancing over at him. “But my water’s really hot and you have to test it.”
He picked up the tub. “Message received. I’ll test it.”
After he went to the bathroom, he ran the water until it was just the right temperature then slipped the tub under it. He didn’t know why he was losing patience with Shaye. Waiting for the perfect photograph, he could sit in a tree stand for hours. But this woman pushed his buttons.
Because he was attracted to her?
He’d been attracted to women before yet had never felt this disturbed restlessness he experienced around Shaye.
Once more in Timmy’s room, he set the tub atop the vinyl pad on the chest. “Is this where you want it?”
“Yes, that’s fine. I wash his hair when I give him a bath. Do you want to take care of that, too?”
“Sure. Just show me what you use.”
Squiggly now, Timmy fussed and seemed to be revving up to a full-blown cry. “I guess you usually try to do this quickly?”
“That depends on his mood,” Shaye confided with a small smile that was a little bit mischievous. He had a feeling she was glad Timmy wasn’t in a docile frame of mind.
Using his hand, Dylan dribbled water over Timmy’s head, trying not to let it run down his face. The baby quieted. In a matter of minutes, Dylan had shampoo in one hand and was holding Timmy steady with the other. He shampooed the baby and took the soap Shaye offered so he could do the rest of his little body. Timmy seemed to be enjoying it.
“How long until he can sit up on his own?”
“At about six months, unless it takes him a little longer.”
As Dylan soaped Timmy and held him so he didn’t slip down the incline, he mumbled, “I need four hands.”
“That’s why bathing a baby is an art.” When he cast a sideways glance at Shaye, she was smiling and he could tell she was attempting to lighten up a little.
When he’d started bathing Timmy, Shaye had put a plastic cup in the tub. Dylan used it to rinse the baby off. When she handed him a towel, he said, “Next time I’ll have to throw that over my shoulder, then I’ll be ready. I can see why taking care of kids takes planning.”
“You’re a fast learner.” Her voice was filled with grudging admiration.
“I’ve had to be a fast learner all my life. I imagine you had to be, too.” He thought of living with her father and two brothers after her mother died.
“I guess we learned fast to survive.” She was lumping them together and he felt good about that.
Carefully, he lifted Timmy from the little incline with the towel, taking him over to the crib. The baby looked at him wide-eyed with his little fist pumping back and forth, then let out a howl.
“What’s this about?” he asked the infant above the cry.
“He’s getting hungry. Do you want to dress him or warm up his bottle?”
“I’ll dress him.” When she was still standing there a few moments later, he said, “I know you want to do this yourself, and if not that, you want to watch every move I make. I will not hurt him.”
She worried her lower lip and finally admitted, “I’ve watched young mothers with newborns. They don’t have a clue as to the first thing to do. Everyone seems to think parenthood comes naturally, and it doesn’t.”
After he finished drying Timmy off, he knew he had to get a diaper on him before anything else happened. Reaching for the diaper, he quickly took the paper from the tabs and attached it as if he’d been doing it for a lifetime. It wasn’t a snug fit and Shaye probably could have done a better job, but it was adequate for the first try. She must have thought so, too, because she left the room and went downstairs.
When Shaye left Dylan alone with Timmy, she just wanted to cry. He was acting like a real dad. It wouldn’t take him long to pick up whatever he had to learn. Then he wouldn’t need her. He and Timmy would be fine on their own. That picture was too painful to examine.
Downstairs in the living room she could hear Dylan on the baby monitor talking to his nephew as if the baby could understand.
“You’ve got to eat so you get big and strong…burping will help your digestion…when you sleep, I wonder what you dream.” She almost felt as if she should turn the monitor off because it seemed Dylan had forgotten it was there.
She took a bottle upstairs to Dylan and waited while he started feeding Timmy, realizing she couldn’t watch over him every minute. Dylan confirmed that when he said, “Go downstairs, Shaye. We’ll be fine.”
Reluctantly going to her first floor, not knowing what else to do, Shaye made a batch of iced tea. Meanwhile she tried to get her emotions under control. She felt terrible for just wanting Dylan to go away again…at least part of her wanted him to go away for more than one reason. She wanted to be Timmy’s mother. Fighting her attraction to Dylan was becoming more difficult, too. She’d made an appointment with Arthur Standish for next week but didn’t know what would come of it. After all, Timmy was Dylan’s nephew. Even if she remained the baby’s legal guardian, Dylan had a right to time with Timmy.
When Dylan came downstairs and into the kitchen, he was smiling. “Timmy is fed, burped and on his back. I think he fell asleep as soon as I laid him down.”
“He slept five hours straight last night.” She motioned to the tea. “Would you like a glass?”
“Sure.”
“It’s herbal,” she said to make conversation, “so you don’t have to worry about it keeping you up.”
“I’m going to be up tonight, anyway. I have to make decisions about the transparencies I want processed. I have to play with a few other photos on the computer.”
Dylan had laid a leather portfolio case on the table. “Are you still interested in these?”
Shaye had seen a few of Dylan’s photographs in magazines, but she wanted to see more and to learn who he really was as an artist. Photography was an art, just like painting or sculpting. She had a feeling if she examined his photographs, she’d see the world through his eyes. It was an intriguing concept.
“Yes, I’d like very much to look at them.”
Be polite…be friendly…don’t give away how worried you are about Timmy and your attraction to his uncle.
Almost immediately Shaye realized she had to sit side by side with Dylan so he could explain the photographs. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Pulling out a chair and taking a seat, she maintained a good six-inch distance between them. He didn’t seem to notice as he unzipped the portfolio and sat beside her.
Suddenly six inches wasn’t nearly enough. Every time she breathed, she could easily catch whiffs of a woodsy aftershave. She was close enough to see the tiny nick on his jawline where he’d cut himself shaving and to feel the heat that was male and pulling her toward him. It was almost a physical feat for her to stay away.
As he turned over photo after photo, Julia smiled up at Shaye. At least, in most of the photographs she was smiling. There was Julia with binoculars on a craggy rock looking into the distance. Julia by a stream, jeans rolled up, dipping in one big toe. A younger Julia, silent, pensive, sitting in a park, lost in a world of her own. There were pictures of Julia swinging and trying to touch the clouds with her toes, doing the two-step at a square dance with Will’s arm around her. In the last one Julia was holding a kitten to her cheek.
“I wish I had shot one of her pregnant,” Dylan said with regret.
“She did have that glow pregnant women get. Everyone looking at her knew she considered herself the happiest woman in Wild Horse Junction, or maybe the whole wide world.”
“Do you ever ask yourself the whys?” Dylan’s eyes were filled with doubts and pain and questions that he couldn’t find the answers to.
“Sure, I ask why. As soon as I lost my mom it was the big question no one could
answer for me. But I soon found out I shouldn’t waste my time on it, because I wouldn’t ever know the answer.”
“I know that, but I still ask.”
Had asking why brought him back to Wild Horse Junction to consider being a father? She didn’t want to get into that conversation again. The tension between them seemed to have diminished, but his shoulder was awfully close to hers. Their hands were almost touching above the photographs spread on the table. She pulled her hand back and put it in her lap.
“How many are you going to choose?”
“I’m not sure yet. Which ones do you like?”
Easily, Shaye pointed to the toe-dipping, the kitten and square dance photos. “I like these the best.”
Nodding, Dylan shuffled them all into a pile again, put them aside and picked up the manila folder with the eight-by-ten photos.
“These were all taken in Africa.”
Dylan’s talent shouted at her as she examined each photo—giraffes running across the plains like a large orange wave, a leopard climbing a rock at dusk, a mother lioness protecting her cubs, elephants at a watering hole. There was scenery, too, and she got lost in the beauty of it, almost feeling as if she were there.
Obviously, Dylan saw a magnificent world and she had no doubt that he wanted to share that world with Timmy.
“I can see why the gallery sells out of your work. You don’t just take a picture, you paint a portrait with light, shadows and color.”
“Thank you. Not everyone can understand what this is all about.”
“It’s about you telling a story in a single frame.”
“Exactly.” Somehow they leaned closer. Somehow their breaths mingled. Somehow…
His lips covered hers and she instantaneously responded. When his hand went to her neck and slid under her hair, she sighed, opening her mouth, letting him in. As before, her heart raced, she trembled and then she pulled away.
“I can’t kiss you,” she murmured.
“You were kissing me.”
Using the table as a prop in case her knees weren’t quite steady, she pushed herself up.
He caught her arm. “You can’t live in denial about the attraction between us. We’re going to see each other often because of Timmy.”
Custody For Two (Baby Bonds #1) Page 9