Baby's First Homecoming

by Cathy McDavid

She showed herself out.

  “Come on,” Clay said to Sierra when they were alone.

  “There’s all the bath stuff.”

  “Leave it till the morning.” Better yet, leave it and let Clay give Jamie his bath tomorrow night.

  “Wait a sec. I’ll be right back.”

  Before Clay had a chance to react, Sierra pushed Jamie at him. He took the sleeping boy and held him as he’d seen Sierra do. “Hey there, buddy.”

  Jamie protested grumpily but quickly drifted off, resting his cheek on Clay’s chest.

  Protectiveness and possessiveness welled inside him. This was his son, and Clay would do anything, give everything he had, to safeguard him.

  “I love you, Jamie.” He nuzzled the boy’s downy hair. Hearing a noise, he looked up to see Sierra, her arms loaded with bath items. She stared openly at him.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  She appeared more rattled than fine.

  Clay grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it over Jamie to ward off the night chill. His son slept through the entire walk to the casita. Inside, Clay noted the changes. An old quilt on the bed. Clothes hanging in the closet. A floor lamp where there had been none.

  The crib he’d purchased was no longer barren. Sierra had added colorful bedding, a mobile with shooting stars and quarter moons and an entire zoo’s worth of stuffed toys.

  “Is there room in there for him?” Clay asked.

  She shoved some of the toys aside. “Now there is.”

  “Should we change him first?” Clay wasn’t sure how often a baby needed changing, but it seemed like a lot.

  “I think he’s okay for now.”

  “Still sleeping though the night?”

  “He didn’t last night. I’m sure he will again as soon we get settled per—” She cut herself off.

  What was she going to say? Permanently?

  Clay liked her near slip.

  He laid Jamie in the crib, stroked his back. “Sleep tight, buddy.”

  Feeling Sierra’s gaze on him, he turned his head and met her bottomless blue eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a broken whisper.

  “For what?”

  “Not telling you about Jamie. I was wrong.”

  She’d admitted as much before but not with such genuine emotion. “Can you forgive me?”

  “I already have. Jamie, the two of us raising him, is what’s really important.”

  Every cell in Clay’s body urged him to kiss her. She was close enough, all he had to do was tilt his head, lean in.

  Every cell in his brain warned him not to give in to his impulses. He and Sierra were making progress. She’d moved into the casita. Started working for him. Agreed to counseling sessions. Let his mother watch Jamie for a full fifteen minutes. Voluntarily handed Jamie over to Clay. He’d be a fool ten times over to screw it up by making an unwanted advance.

  He took a step back from the crib. Before he could take a second step, Sierra reached for the collar of his jacket and pulled him toward her as she stood on her tiptoes.

  “Sierra?” Her name came out a breath against her lush lips. Instantly, he plummeted, falling into her softness.

  God help him, he never wanted to leave.

  Her tongue touched his, and it was all over. Clay gave up resisting and kissed her with the voracity of a starved man. She responded, moaning low, setting every nerve in his body on fire. The control he thought he had snapped, and he threaded his fingers through the strands of her silky hair.

  She came to her senses first and broke off the kiss.

  “What was that for?” He had yet to release her, might never release her.

  “I’m not sure,” she said shyly. “It just felt right.”

  He couldn’t agree more.

  In fact, everything about her was feeling right as rain.

  Even the idea of marrying her didn’t scare the pants off him anymore.

  * * *

  “TEN FORTY-SEVEN A.M.

  “How is the living arrangement working? Are you comfortable in Clay’s casita?”

  “It’s very nice.” Sierra smiled tightly.

  Dr. Brewster, the counselor her attorney had recommended, waited patiently for Sierra to elaborate.

  So did Clay. He sat beside her on the couch, tapping his foot.

  “Nice as in the quarters are attractive?” Dr. Brewster had one of those open, pleasant faces that inspired confidence. “Nice as in you like being close to Clay and sharing parenting duties?”

  Ten forty-eight.

  Sierra wrung her hands. How was Jamie doing? Was he giving her father any trouble? She’d been to the reception area twice to check briefly on them.

  They were fine. Managing well enough, other than the magazine Jamie had torn to shreds.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the intense agitation that gripped her with vice-like tenacity.

  She started to rise. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Can you possibly wait?” Dr. Brewster asked. “We only have a few more minutes before the session’s over.”

  Sierra didn’t want to wait. She really didn’t want to be here at all. But a deal was a deal.

  Who knew it would be so difficult?

  “Okay. I’ll wait.” She perched on the edge of the couch cushion and checked her watch again.

  Still ten forty-eight?

  She shook her wrist. Maybe her batteries were dead.

  “About the living arrangement…” Dr. Brewster prompted.

  “The casita is charming. Quite comfortable.”

  “And what about residing so close to Clay? How does that make you feel?” Dr. Brewster had asked the same question six times regarding six different topics.

  Sierra had yet to meet anyone so concerned with how she felt.

  “It’s a little early to tell. This is only our third day.” Sierra strained to hear through the closed door.

  Silence. No crying, no screaming. No shattering of glass or the crash of bookcases toppling.

  Had her father left with Jamie? Taken him on a stroll around the building? He wouldn’t do that, would he? He’d promised to stay in the reception area until Sierra and Clay were done.

  Ten forty-nine.

  This session was never going to end.

  “Well, so far, how’s it going?” Dr. Brewster’s question disrupted Sierra’s thoughts.

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  Clay hadn’t had any trouble when it was his turn to talk. He’d spent the first half of their session rambling on and on about how much he enjoyed being a father, how great it was having Jamie in his life, his plans for the future, blah, blah, blah.

  Not that Sierra didn’t think all that was wonderful. She just couldn’t open up to a complete stranger as he could.

  “Are you two growing closer?”

  Sierra’s knee jerked.

  Clay raised his brows as if to say, Tell her.

  She was not mentioning their kiss. Kisses, plural. Dr. Brewster would probably ask Sierra how she felt about them.

  How did she feel?

  Like she’d been lost forever and finally come home.

  Wouldn’t Dr. Brewster have a field day with that?

  Sierra shouldn’t have kissed Clay. The first one was kind of, sort of, understandable. He’d been excited that she’d agreed to move into the casita and accepted his job offer.

  The second one? No excuses.

  His story about Jessica’s miscarriage and his tender confession of love for Jamie had moved her. As a result, she’d let down her guard. Boy, had she let it down.

  What if he hurt her again?

  He wasn’t the same man she’d had an affair with two years ago, but he wasn’t that different, either. She couldn’t take a second devastating loss. And there would be no hiding from her family this time.

  Ten-fifty.

  “We’re getting along better,” Sierra hedged, “if that’s what you’re asking.”


  “Tell me more.”

  Dr. Brewster’s second-favorite phrase.

  “We were able to discuss Clay letting his father meet Jamie without screaming and shouting at each other.”

  “Very good. I’m impressed.”

  And not long after that, I kissed him.

  She was growing closer to Clay, all right, in every sense of the word. The power of their connection, the depth of their attraction, scared her. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable.

  There, Dr. Brewster. What do you think of that?

  “It’s interesting you say you didn’t scream and shout because I sense tension between you two.”

  “There’s bound to be some tension,” Clay said. “Just like any couple.”

  They were a couple now?

  He covered Sierra’s hands with his.

  It was the first time he’d touched her since their kiss, other than to take her elbow as they were crossing the parking lot into the building. That touch had sent a tingle soaring through her. This one sent a wave of pleasure.

  She had to force herself not to curl her own fingers around his.

  Dr. Brewster glanced at their joined hands and jotted a note on her pad.

  Great.

  Ten fifty-one.

  Sierra began rocking nervously.

  “I’d like to make a suggestion,” Dr. Brewster said. “Some homework for you to do between now and your next session.”

  “What kind of homework?” Clay leaned forward.

  Sierra sat back, a sinking sensation in her middle.

  “I know you mentioned that the two of you are having dinner together every night. And that you’ve done some activities with Jamie, like taking him on walks and putting him to bed.”

  And standing beside his crib, kissing.

  Clay sent her a not so discreet glance. Was he thinking the same thing?

  “What I’d also like is for you to practice some trust-building exercises.”

  Could trust be built with exercises? Sierra thought it had to be earned.

  “For starters,” Dr. Brewster said, “when you go on those walks with Jamie, I want you to tell the other person a quality or trait about them you appreciate and admire. Stick to those that relate to raising your son. Maybe, Clay, you admire Sierra’s devotion to Jamie and maybe, Sierra, you admire Clay’s protectiveness. Don’t bring up anything negative and steer clear of your personal relationship.”

  That didn’t sound entirely awful.

  “Next, I want you to practice eye contact. It will help you be more comfortable with each other, more relaxed. Once a day, perhaps after your dinner together, you sit and stare into each other’s eyes for a full sixty seconds.”

  Was she joking? If Sierra stared into Clay’s eyes for sixty seconds, she’d wind up locking lips with him.

  “No glasses or sunglasses and no squinting.” Dr. Brewster smiled expectantly.

  “Sounds okay to me.”

  Clay would agree.

  “Do I have a choice?” Sierra asked.

  “Of course,” Dr. Brewster answered. “No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. I’d like you to consider the exercises, however. You might be surprised at the results.”

  Ten fifty-three.

  Two more minutes and Sierra could leave.

  The sound of a muffled chime sounded from the other side of the door.

  Sierra stiffened. “What was that?”

  “My eleven o’clock appointment arriving, I imagine.”

  Another patient. Of course.

  Dr. Brewster took out her calendar. “Next Wednesday at the same time?” She looked to Clay and Sierra for confirmation.

  “Sure,” Clay answered for them both, already entering the appointment into his smart phone.

  Hurray! It was over. Sierra sprang to her feet.

  “And what about you, Sierra? What day works best for your individual session?”

  Ah, yes. The individual sessions. Another agreement she’d made. More torture for her while Jamie and her father waited in the reception area.

  “Mornings are best,” she said. “I work in the afternoons.”

  “Friday at nine?”

  She nodded.

  “See you then.”

  Sierra raced to the door. Flinging it open, she burst into the reception area.

  Her father stood at the window, Jamie beside him, busily leaving fingerprints all over the sparkling-clean glass.

  “How was he?” Her heart didn’t stop hammering until she’d lifted Jamie into her arms, inhaled his baby scent.

  “Pretty good. He might have mutinied without those animal crackers you left me.”

  No one said much on the drive back to Mustang Valley. Clay dropped Sierra’s dad off at the ranch, then drove home. She planned to feed Jamie lunch before heading to the office. Work would be a welcome distraction after the counseling session.

  “See you at one?” she asked when Clay pulled into the driveway. He was going to show her the accounting software this afternoon.

  “More like one-thirty. I have an appointment with the photographer from the wedding.”

  “Okay.” Sierra thought that was strange but didn’t ask. When it came to work, she was determined to maintain a strictly professional relationship with Clay.

  “I’ll bring her by the office when we’re done touring the arena and barn since you’ll be the one coordinating with her.”

  “I will?” Now she was really curious.

  “She volunteered to take pictures of the feral mustangs for the sanctuary’s newsletter and website. We’re hoping professionally taken shots showing the horses at their best will generate interest and promote adoptions.”

  “What a great idea.”

  Clay lifted Jamie out of the car seat. “I think so, too. She and I talked about it at the wedding.”

  When was that? In between his conversations with Caitlin’s maid of honor?

  Sierra forgot about the photographer once she and Jamie returned to the casita. Feeding him lunch, freshening her makeup for the office and trying not to think about trust exercises occupied most of her thoughts.

  In the office, she settled Jamie in his playpen. The morning’s trip must have tuckered him out for, after only a few minutes of quiet play, he fell asleep.

  Sierra checked the voice mail and email messages, responding to those she could and saving the others for Clay to handle. She was opening and sorting the daily mail when he brought the photographer into the office.

  Sierra had forgotten how pretty the young woman was. Today, her highlighted hair was caught up in a high ponytail, and her brown eyes sparkled, especially when they lighted on Clay.

  “Sierra, this is Dallas Sorrenson.”

  “Nice to meet you again.” Sierra shook her hand.

  “Same here. I’m really excited about this project and can’t wait to get started. Animal causes are kind of my passion. I’ve also done photographs for several no-kill animal shelters.”

  They talked in subdued voices so as not to disturb Jamie.

  “Are you a horse person?” Sierra asked.

  “I was. Until college. Then, unfortunately, I had to sell my mare. Not enough money for board bills and tuition.” She showered Clay with a gorgeous smile. “Clay says he’ll take me riding.”

  “He did?” For some reason, Sierra’s voice had risen half an octave.

  “And let me watch one of the bull-riding practices next week. I love anything to do with rodeos.”

  She was sweet. Very sweet.

  Sierra watched through the office window as Clay escorted Dallas to her car.

  What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the jealous type. And yet, here she was, spying on Clay, fuming because Caitlin’s maid of honor had fawned over him at the wedding and he’d shown the photographer around the arena.

  Maybe she should ask Dr. Brewster about it in her individual session on Friday. No, that would be too humiliating.

  Big whoop. Sierra
and Clay had kissed. Twice. That didn’t mean there was anything between them.

  She was about to leave the window when Dallas and Clay suddenly hugged. A second later, she slid into her car, and Clay shut her door.

  What the—! Did he hug all his business associates?

  When he came into the office, a smile splitting his handsome face, Sierra met him in front of her desk and did as Dr. Brewster suggested, staring into his eyes for a full sixty seconds.

  Just what she thought. She didn’t trust him any more after the exercise than she had before.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clay craned his neck in an effort to see over the block wall to the casita. Nothing. Sierra still hadn’t emerged from inside.

  Did she have a case of cold feet? Had she allowed her anger to win out?

  Frankly, he’d been a little surprised that she’d agreed to let his father meet Jamie today. When he’d initially broached the subject a couple of weeks ago, she’d been resistant.

  Perhaps the counseling sessions they’d been attending were responsible. The positive effects were evident in other areas. Sierra was now able to leave Jamie with either Wayne or Clay’s mother for a full hour with only mild anxiety. She and Clay were mostly on the same page regarding Jamie’s upbringing. And the trust exercises—Dr. Brewster had added two more—were beginning to eradicate the barriers between them, enabling them to develop a sincere respect for each other.

  Clay wasn’t so optimistic he didn’t anticipate setbacks. Like today, for instance.

  He paced back and forth beside his truck, repeatedly checking the time on his smart phone. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d be late for the picnic.

  A Sunday afternoon at the park had been chosen for Jamie’s first get-together with his other grandfather. Neutral territory, kid-friendly activities and plenty of other people providing a buffer. Sierra would feel less pressured, or so Clay hoped.

  Dr. Brewster supported the meeting and the location. She believed Sierra and Jamie would benefit greatly from the experience.

  Had Sierra changed her mind?

  Or maybe something was wrong with Jamie. Forget pressuring her or being too controlling—her major complaint about him to Dr. Brewster—he was going to the casita to find out what the hold-up was.

  He didn’t get far. The side gate opened, and Sierra emerged, Jamie in one arm, an overflowing diaper bag in the other.