“One big, strong cowboy and two baby girls? How hard can it be?” She smiled at him, teasing, and moved to the door.
* * *
He found out how hard it could be that night.
Annie was teething.
He didn’t even know what that meant until Corrie rubbed some sort of salve on the little girl’s gums and gave her a pain reliever. “Just rock her,” she told him. “Once it takes the edge off, she’ll probably go back to sleep.”
Her and him both, he hoped.
“Would you like me to do it?” she asked.
He’d love it, but it wasn’t Corrie’s responsibility. It was his. “Gotta learn, right?”
“And experience is the best of teachers.”
He settled into the wide easy chair and rocked the little one. She fussed at first, scowled up at him, withdrew the bottle, put it back, then scowled again. Like it was his fault. Or maybe she was just downright mad that he couldn’t make the pain stop instantly. He was kind of mad about that, too.
She struggled to sit up.
He tried to keep her lying down in his arms.
She frowned again, sat up and gave him a trucker’s belch.
He stared at her in disbelief.
She patted his cheek, then pulled the bottle back to her mouth with one hand. The other hand played with the wisps of hair along her cheeks, then slowly, rhythmically, she began twisting a tiny hank of hair with her finger.
Sleep stole up on her like a summer sunset. Nothing hurried about it. And when she finally closed her eyes one last time—and the bottle went lax in her mouth—he stared at the absolute miracle he held in his arms.
So small. So dependent. So perfectly beautiful.
Blond wisps framed her face, a face that seemed more pale against his darker hands. Black lashes lay against rounded cheeks. A tiny nose. A little mouth. And not too much chin to speak of, yet.
She wasn’t a year old. That meant at least seventeen years of parenting.
She frowned as if the pain was coming back.
He shifted back in the reclining rocker and started humming.
She settled her pretty little head against his T-shirt, sighed and dozed off again.
So did he, and he didn’t feel a thing until they both woke up nearly five hours later.
Ava had woken up. She’d come to the side of her portable crib, spotted them and started babbling something very loud and pretty funny because the little blonde kept making herself laugh.
She reached out, patted his knee, then tugged her sister’s leg.
“Sissy is sleeping,” he told her. “She had a rough night.”
“Bah, bah, bah, bah, bah!” Ava insisted, tugging at Annie’s bare leg again. “Bah!”
One man.
Two babies.
One sleeping.
One not sleeping.
And him, caught in the middle. Did he dare try to put Annie down? Would she wake up? Did it matter?
He started to move but the door opened softly. Melonie slipped in and reached for Ava. “I’ve got her,” she whispered.
Ava instantly grabbed two hands full of Melonie’s gorgeous dark curls. And then she pulled.
“Hey, baby, that’s not how this is supposed to go down.” Melonie loosened one of Ava’s hands. “You’ve got a great grip, kid,” she added as she unwound the second hand.
Ava’s face went sour.
Her lower lip came out.
By the time Melonie got her out of the room, she’d let out a full-fledged wail that grew fainter as Melonie went down the stairs.
How would he manage? How could he possibly do this if he just utterly failed his first test?
Corrie came into the room just then. “Here.” She eased the still-sleeping baby from his arms. “Let me tuck her into her bed—that probably wasn’t the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had, Jace.”
“Compared to cold, hard ground when we’re running sheep, I’d say this chair and a sleepy baby were all right. I smell coffee.”
“Cookie’s got the kitchen ready for action.”
He stood and stretched, then watched as Corrie bent low to set Annie into the crib.
He raised an eyebrow when she straightened, and she motioned him out the door, then spoke. “Babies fear falling. If you go down with them, cradling them, it’s not scary. It’s just plain nice.”
“And you kind of kept your hand on her back while she settled.”
“Too quick, they wake up. Patience and time are your biggest assets. And a sense of humor.”
Her words made him smile. They also made him question.
Could he handle this? Raising two precious children?
He turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and paused.
Melonie was tucked along the corner of the couch, feet out, cooing to Ava as she gave her a bottle.
Ava’s tiny hand kept patting Melonie’s dark curls, as if she was happy to see them. Feel them. Touch them. And when she began to knit her hands into Melonie’s hair, Melonie scolded, “Uh-uh. Don’t do it, missy.”
The baby let the bottle go loose and giggled.
Then she wound her fingers in Melonie’s hair again.
Another scolding.
Another giggle. Louder this time.
That baby not only understood Melonie, but she’d also turned it into a game.
“Are babies that smart?”
His voice surprised Melonie. She turned quickly. The strap of her tank top slid off her shoulder, just a bit, letting her dark hair fan the lightly tanned skin.
She shrugged the strap into place, made a face at Ava, then him, and laughed. “Seems like it. So how are we going to stay two steps ahead of you and your sister, Miss Ava? Because I expect that will be quite a job.”
“A juggling act.”
Melonie made a face. “It’s all in the timing. And sleep deprivation,” she added, smiling.
She was beautiful in the morning.
Beautiful at night.
An at-ease kind of beauty that seemed like it was part of her.
She didn’t flirt with him.
He grunted at Cookie, poured coffee and kind of wished she would because he wanted to flirt right back.
He shouldn’t.
No, make that couldn’t. He’d learned his lesson and he understood her goals. She’d practically prebooked her flight back to Kentucky and her cable TV dreams once her year on the ranch was up.
Once burned, twice shy.
But when he went back to the living room, carrying coffee for both of them, the sound of her voice, laughing at that baby...
The joy in her voice made him wish she was laughing at him like that, and they were only on day three. How would he manage to keep his distance for the next several months?
Chapter Six
“Oh, thank you.” She gave him a grateful look when he set the mug of coffee on the table. “I stayed up to get the basics done on your house, so this coffee will become my mainstay for the day.”
“And Annie is teething, according to Corrie.”
“Does that mean you held her all night?” The look on her face made him feel like a hero. He wasn’t a hero. He was just a guy with a job to do. Three jobs, he realized as he took his first long sip of coffee. Two precious girls, helping on the ranch and now an unexpected mega construction contract on Hardaway Ranch. Was it only a few days ago he was hoping for a job to fall in his lap? Yep.
He set down the mug. “It kept her happy.”
“Oh, Jace.”
She lifted her eyebrows and offered a sympathetic smile. “That is so wonderfully kind of you.”
“Yeah, well.” He scrubbed a hand to the back of his neck. He needed a shower. And a shave. Probably a haircut, too.
“My dad used to do that with Ju
stine,” he told her. “When she was sick. I must have been like six or seven years old. He’d hold her and rock her and she’d fall asleep in his arms. And when I’d get up in the morning, he’d still be there, in that big old rocking chair, holding his baby girl.”
He’d glanced away, picturing the image. When he brought his gaze back to hers, there was no missing the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Her eyes glistened.
He reacted instantly.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Stop that,” he told her. He grabbed tissues from a side table. Since Lizzie had come to live on the ranch, tissues had appeared in almost every room. A woman thing, he guessed. “Here.”
“Don’t mind me, I get sentimental way too easily, but what a perfect memory, Jace. And what a lovely portrait of your family you’ve given me.”
“They were wonderful.” He shrugged. “I only wish I’d told them that more often. I should have made sure they understood how special they were.”
“They knew.”
He looked up.
“By the kind of man you are. By the beautiful daughter who cares about others. It’s not the words that matter, Jace. It’s the actions, and you and your sister have shown that again and again. Especially now.” She dropped her gaze to little Ava.
The baby tossed her bottle aside, burped and giggled.
“She’s not like a baby baby, is she? They’re almost more like little people now. In diapers.”
“Speaking of which.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch.
Then she began to stand.
Ava reached for the coffee mug.
Jace jumped forward. He grabbed the baby’s arm just before she snatched the mug of hot coffee, and there he was, right there, almost cheek-to-cheek with Melonie, and the tiny trouble-seeking blonde between them.
“Great save. I couldn’t dodge backward quickly enough.”
“And this time it was two-on-one,” he told her. “Upstairs it was one-on-two until you came along. Right now I’m thinking the odds are against me.”
“‘If God be for us, who can be against us?’” Melonie quoted Paul’s verse to the Romans gently. “Parents have been raising multiples forever. It’s just that most of them have nine months to prepare, physically and mentally. You got an hour.”
The common sense of her words struck him. “You’re right.”
“Oh, Jace. Darling.” She handed Ava to him and smiled, teasing him with the meaningless drawled endearment. And then she drawled the rest of the words, sending his pulse sky-high. “You will find out that I am almost always right.”
Heath and Zeke came in from outside just in time to hear Melonie’s comment. “While they don’t look alike, that is one thing these sisters have in common. They are both almost always—” Heath stressed the word almost with intent deliberation “—right. A fact that bears getting used to. Hey, dollface.” He plucked Ava out of Jace’s arms. “I expect you want a shower,” Heath said to him.
“The world around me would certainly appreciate it.”
“Zeke and I will take baby detail. He’s been like a big brother to these two girls since they were born. He’ll coach me along. Won’t you, big guy?” Heath clapped a hand onto Zeke’s five-year-old shoulder as they crossed into the dining room.
“I know everything they like and don’t like,” bragged the boy. “And all their best foods. Mostly Rosie still feeds ’em stuff. But just mostly.”
“I believe our young friend here is telling us that while finger foods have their place, these little ladies still like to be waited on.” Corrie followed them into the dining room with two bowls of something. She thrust one at Melonie before handing the second one to Jace. “Most nutrition still comes from the spoon or the bottle. I put baby spoons with each. When they are done eating, I will pack them into the stroller and walk down to Rosie’s with them. If that’s fine with you, Jace?”
He stared at how quickly Annie began devouring whatever was in the bowl. “It’s wonderful. What’s in this bowl and why does she like it so much? Because it looks dreadful.”
Corrie laughed. “Rice cereal, mashed banana and vanilla-flavored Greek yogurt. A full meal in a dish.”
“Ava loves it, too.”
“All my babies loved this,” Corrie told them as she fixed herself a fresh cup of coffee. “Simple good food, high in nutrition and calories that babies need.”
“They need calories?” Jace didn’t mask his surprise. “Aren’t they already on the fat side?”
Corrie stopped moving.
Heath took a long step back.
Melonie stayed absolutely quiet because she was thinking the exact same thing.
Corrie tsk-tsked Jace. “These are perfectly normal, healthy babies. They are not fat,” she assured him. “They are exactly as they should be. If you had been held and fed for nearly ten months, how would you look?”
“Like a barrel?” he suggested.
“Yes. Both babies will soon be walking. Then running. Then climbing. They will barely stop to eat and you’ll be scratching your head, thinking they’re starving themselves.”
“Corrie, for real?” Melonie squeezed Ava’s chunky little calf and the baby giggled.
“Nature’s way is amazing. It prepares them. And then they keep us running for a long, long time.” Corrie aimed a fond look at Zeke. “Little boys sporting casts are just one prime example of how adventurous life becomes.”
“I’ll hang on better next time I climb a big tree,” boasted Zeke. “Dad says they’ll take my cast off really soon, then I can play in the water. Or swim in the creek with Dad!” The funny boy raised his casted arm like a badge of honor.
Memories washed over Melonie. Her hands refused to move.
Broken bones.
A broken face. A wired jaw.
Long days of pain in the hospital. Long weeks of liquid food and more pain.
Then the first glimpse in the mirror, of her bruised and battered eight-year-old face. She’d gone off to hide, almost wishing the horse had done her in.
Corrie found her like that. Held her. Whispered to her. Let her cry. And then Corrie went to their hometown library and brought back pictures of people who’d had their faces wired.
And they all looked normal and wonderful and good.
For the first time since being pummeled by hooves, hope had chased fear aside. It came back as she healed, but in the end, Corrie had been right. As usual.
“Did you hear me, Melonie?”
She swung around as Jace came closer. “Sorry. No. I was focused on mush, I guess.”
Corrie aimed a look her way from the other side of the pass-through. A look of love and understanding, and maybe a little concern.
“If you bring your notes for my house along this morning, we can swing by the lumberyard this side of McCall and get everything we need.”
“I’ll show you the plans once the girls are on their way to Rosie’s with Corrie, all right?”
He paused by her chair, nuzzled Ava’s round, pink cheek and made the little girl giggle out loud. “Yes. Give me an hour in the barn with the guys, then time to shower. Heath said they could use an extra pair of hands.”
“An hour works for me.” She tried not to notice how good he smelled because ignoring his good looks was impossible enough. The complete package was harder yet. He rolled his shoulders as he moved away.
She bit back a sigh and turned her attention to Ava. “You’re done,” she exclaimed a few minutes later. “You did great, Ava!”
The baby burbled up at her, lifted her eyebrows and grinned.
“They couldn’t be cuter, could they?” Lizzie lifted Annie and washed her little face and hands. “Mel, do you have time tonight to go over wedding plans with me?”
“I will make time. I’m a wretched sister for taking this amazin
g job on when I should be helping you plan barbecue.”
Lizzie laughed as she gently cleaned Annie’s little face. “Scoff if you will, but people around here take barbecue seriously. Not as seriously as Texas or the deep South.”
The truth in that made Melonie grin.
“I know this job is important to you,” Lizzie continued. “We’re having most of the food catered so folks don’t have to worry about anything. But you have an eye for placement, and putting things together. I want it to look nice without messing my equine budget.”
“It’s amazing what I can do with clean Mason jars, wildflowers and two dozen lace tablecloths.”
“I love lace tablecloths.” Lizzie patted her heart, Southern girl to the max. “I wish Charlotte was here to help plan.”
“Me, too. But she’ll be here in time for the wedding. And then for at least a year.”
Lizzie handed the soft, warm washcloth through the pass-through. “We might have to sneak away tonight so we can plan things.”
“Why?”
Lizzie raised one of those perfect Fitzgerald eyebrows her way before she slanted a look toward the door. “These men are a distraction.”
“Oh, Heath. Of course.” Determined not to blush, Melonie trained her gaze on the baby.
“Not just Heath.”
“Lizzie. Stop.”
Her sister laughed as she took the baby up the stairs. “I’m going to get clean clothes for each of them. Corrie, can Zeke walk to Rosie’s with you?”
“He surely can, and we might just stay and play for a while if he’d like. Or he can walk back here and help in the barn.”
“Like all by myself?” Zeke hollered from the front porch. “From Rosie’s?”
“Will you stay out of the way of tractors and cars?” Corrie phrased the question like only a really silly person would get in the way of either.
Zeke mashed his face against the screened wooden door. “Cross my heart.”
“Then, sure, why not? Last time I looked, this place is going to have your name on it one day. Might as well learn early what owning a big spread is about. Taking charge. Getting things done.”
A Cowboy in Shepherd's Crossing Page 6