by Zoe York
“Forty-five minutes per side?” Kerry’s eyes twinkled.
“Surely mixed tapes were before your time.”
“Not at all.” The corners of her mouth turned up. “When I was little, my best friend and I would record our favourite songs off the top forty show every week.”
Owen chuckled. “That takes me back. Listening for just the right moment.”
“Had to catch the start of the song the second the intro stopped!”
“It took me weeks to get the perfect recording of ‘Tears in Heaven’.”
“For me it was Livin’ la Vida Loca.” Kerry sighed happily. “I had the biggest crush on Ricky Martin.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened with a soft ding. At the entrance to Labour and Delivery, Owen stopped Kerry and handed her the second coffee. “Can you give this to Rachel?”
“You aren’t coming in?”
“There are a lot of… The two people rule…”
Kerry glanced over at the nursing station, then back at Owen. She stepped in close and lowered her voice. “It’s a big room, and most of the time, I’m the only one around. Nobody will kick you out. If Becca wants all three of you in there, it’s fine by me.”
He gave her a grateful smile, and followed her. Inside the room, both Rachel and Hayden were holding Becca’s hands, talking her through a contraction. Kerry took over, quickly and discretely checking Becca’s progress.
“At this rate, it’ll be time to push very soon. I’ll go grab a second pair of hands, and then we can get started.”
“Oh my God, really?” Becca burst into tears, and Hayden wrapped her in his arms.
From where Owen was waiting in the corner, on the other side of Becca, he couldn’t hear their whispered conversation back and forth, but he saw his daughter nod and take a deep breath.
Rachel came over to join Owen.
He handed her the coffee. “I swear when I left to get this, I thought we would be in for a long night.”
“Me, too. Maybe she was just waiting until he got here?” She took a sip. “Our bodies are strange things.”
Kerry returned with Jenna, and together they got Becca moved around on the bed, sitting more upright with Hayden behind her, her feet in stirrups.
Seventeen pushes later—because Owen counted, it was the only thing he could do from the corner, although he wasn’t sure his count was accurate, given that he was going by Kerry’s instructions to Becca—Kerry lifted a tiny, wriggling bundle into the air just above Becca’s blue hospital gown. “It’s a boy!”
She delivered him to the new mom’s chest and Jenna covered the baby with a flannel cloth. A little blue hat came out of nowhere for his head, and then Owen couldn’t see anything for a minute because his vision was blurry.
Once the room had been cleaned up and Becca and the baby were bundled up together in the bed, they got closer to get a better look at the new little guy.
“It’s a boy.” Rachel leaned into him, and Owen swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Congratulations, Grandpa,” she whispered. He jerked back in reaction, and she laughed. Over her head, Owen saw Kerry’s eyes crinkled, too. She’d heard Rachel’s comment, and now her shoulders were shaking. She gave him a quick, blink-and-you’d miss it sideways smile that said she’d seen him notice her laughing before she returned to writing in her chart.
Fucking hell. Fucking eh. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “That’s my name now.” He dragged in a long, rough breath and addressed the new parents. “Speaking of names, what did you settle on?”
Hayden looked at Becca, who gazed back at him with far too much sparkling adoration for Owen’s liking. Then she glanced down at their son, and her face dissolved into pure pleasure. “Charlie,” she said softly. “His name is Charlie.”
Chapter Twelve
The next afternoon, Owen drove Becca and Charlie home through a rain storm. It continued steadily all night, and the relentless drizzle hadn’t let up by the time Kerry came over for the first home check up. Owen waited at the door, watching for her car, and when she pulled up he had an umbrella to protect her and her bag.
Inside, she stepped out of her shoes and then settled next to Becca on the couch.
They were all tired. Charlie was sleeping now, but he hadn’t stayed asleep for more than twenty minutes all night, and neither had his mom. And because Owen’s baby had been up all night, he had been as well. He was grateful that Kerry had shown up with her soothing voice and easy confidence. Becca needed some of that now.
He left them to their conversation and went to the kitchen to make coffee. He thought about whether or not he should take a week off work. The schedule was done, and he had a couple of senior EMTs who could cover the supervisor desk. Or hell, he’d still carry the damn pager. But the one thing he remembered crystal clear from when Becca was a baby was the whole nap-when-the-baby-is-napping thing. Did it count if your baby had a baby, and nobody was napping properly yet?
It was early days, and she was in good hands. He knew that. But if the last forty-eight hours had reinforced anything for him it was that denying his feelings didn’t help anyone.
Kerry appeared in the kitchen doorway just as the coffee finished brewing. “I got Becca tucked into bed with Charlie, nursing, and they both fell asleep.”
Owen did a double-take. “That was fast.”
“They both have a lot of rest to catch up on.” She shrugged. “I’m just down the street if she wants me to come back. It’s a treat to hang out with brand-new babies, especially one as cute as Charlie.”
“I’m biased, but he’s perfect, right?” Owen held out a mug of coffee, and Kerry came closer to take it.
She smiled. “He’s perfect.” She said it with tender wonder, a feeling Owen felt in his core. “And Becca’s going to be just fine.”
He let out a long, ragged breath.
Kerry raised her eyebrows. “How long have you been holding that in?”
“Eighteen years?”
That made her laugh. “I guess we talked about that at the hospital.”
“We started to.” He glanced at her hip. “Then your pager went off, because Charlie had decided to make his arrival.”
“You’re worried about how young she is.”
“Of course I am.”
“You have a unique perspective there. What it’s like to be in your shoes right now?” She studied his face from behind her coffee mug. It was a probing question, but not an unwelcome one. Other than Will, nobody else had asked him that, and Will’s questions were always a bit loaded, like he knew the path Owen should take. His brother always meant well, though, and the kicker was that he was almost always right. And when he wasn’t, it was rarely that far off the mark.
Kerry’s question felt different.
Owen was damn glad they’d decided to be friends. He needed this more than he knew.
“They aren’t bad shoes,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how well I fill them some days, but I’m blessed and I know it.”
“When did it get easier for you?”
“It took a while. Years. By the time she was in school, I had this house, and she came to live with me more of the time.”
“I got the impression she lived here full-time.”
“That came a few years later. When Rachel had her third baby, and bedrooms over there were in high demand. Until then, she went back and forth.” He paused. “We have a good relationship. Rachel and I.”
“I noticed that. That’s good.”
He nodded.
Kerry smiled. “And now you have Charlie here, too. Baby snuggles are a good thing.”
“They sure are.” He cleared his throat. “How about you? No kids, future kids?”
She laughed. “Future kids.”
He nodded, and lifted his own mug to take a sip. Wrong move.
“I tell myself not to put the cart before the horse, and I don’t even have a horse, you know?”
He snorted and inhaled coffee. Sputtering, he set
the mug down and turned around, bracing his hands on the counter as he tried to fix his breathing and stop laughing at the same time. He grabbed a kitchen towel and swiped his face before turning back again.
Kerry’s face was in her hands as she shook with laughter.
“A horse, eh?”
She laughed harder.
He pushed the envelope. “Not a bull?”
She doubled over.
Owen let loose with his own laugh. They should keep it down, because Becca and Charlie needed their sleep, but he couldn’t stop. The laughter shook his whole body, it made his sides ache, and it warmed him from head to toe.
Slowly, Kerry straightened. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and shook her head. She held his gaze as he settled down, too.
Then she bit her lower lip. “Bulls don’t pull carts,” she whispered, and they both started howling again.
It didn’t even make sense, but that was what made it funny.
His insides hurt, and it felt good.
“Thanks,” he said when they both stopped laughing. “I needed that.”
“Any time.” Her expression slid from friendly to serious professional in an instant. “How are you holding up, though?”
“You know.”
She shook her head. “I don’t, unless you tell me. Are you getting any sleep?”
“None.”
“You should—”
“I know.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t remember this part. The panic, the stress.”
“Were you around in those first few days when…” She trailed off and waved her hand. “None of my business.”
“It’s okay. You can ask.” He nodded in the direction of Becca’s room. “I was there. Rachel and I, we got married. Not the right call, in hindsight, but I was doing the right thing. I was there every day. I didn’t go away to school until we split up. Then there were two years when she was little that I wasn’t around day in, day out. But that was it. But those early days…I was there, but it was a long time ago. I don’t remember much of how we survived.”
“It gets easier with each passing day. Tomorrow will likely be a bit teary, but by the day after that, her milk will start to come in and they’ll figure this thing out.”
He gave her a tired smile. “Never thought I’d be talking about my baby nursing a baby.”
“You still haven’t wrapped your head around it, have you?”
“I’m still sitting on that couch out there, processing her telling me she’s pregnant.”
Kerry moved closer and rubbed her hand against his forearm. “Earth to Owen. You’ve got that grandchild now.”
Her touch unlocked a confession he hadn’t shared with anyone else. “I’m happy for her. He is perfect. I just…I didn’t think I’d have another baby in the house. There was supposed to be a golden age in there where I could date and have this place to myself.”
She nodded and slipped her hand away, her fingers trailing through the crisp hair on his arm. Her gaze lingered on his face, though, her eyes thoughtful, almost curious.
In another time and place, he’d catch her wrist and bring her touch back to his body.
“I should go,” she said.
But she didn’t move away, and suddenly, Owen realized just how close she was. “Kerry…”
She blinked slowly as she tipped her head to the side. Her dark hair bounced, the waves baring a long stretch of her neck, and lust punched him straight in the face. Bam, sucker.
He reached for her, his fingertips brushing her cheekbone. She shivered, and maybe he’d have missed it if she were any further away, but she was right against him.
“We can’t do this, right?”
He cupped her cheek anyway.
“No, probably not.” She pressed into his touch, her eyelids fluttering shut. “Owen…”
“I waited a long time,” he rumbled. “For it to be my turn again.”
“You said that.”
“It’s going to a while still. I can’t—”
“And I can’t, either,” she whispered. “Not with a client’s father. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He forced a smile he didn’t feel. The heat swirling through his body demanded he kiss her, taste her. “You’re good with her.”
“Maybe in a few months. After she’s discharged, and we’re just neighbours and colleagues…” She trailed off, then a single word slipped into the air between them on a breathy whisper. “Friends.”
Could he pretend to just be friends after he’d had her so close to being in his arms?
Bam. Sucker.
Plus there was the not-so-small issue of her wanting a horse, and a cart, and he was long done with all of that.
So he rubbed his thumb gently along her jaw, then eased her away from him. “Thanks for the laugh earlier,” he said softly. “That was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
Her eyebrows arched up.
He groaned. “Except for the whole grandson thing, of course.”
“I knew what you meant.” Her lips quirked, and he wanted to kiss her so much it hurt inside. “It felt good for me, too.”
He dragged his gaze from her mouth up to her eyes, and held that connection for a beat. Then he nodded. “Good.”
As she slid behind the driver’s seat of her car, Kerry realized her fingers were shaking. We can’t do this, right? Oh, but she’d wanted to.
Months of it’s-fine, he’s-off-limits-and-just-a-fantasy had collided with a very real, very tender moment of vulnerability and, maybe for the first time, she’d seen Owen Kincaid for all that he was. Not just a caring grump, not just a worried father, not just someone who carried the weight of responsibility like it was his own personal cross to bear. But also as a man, one stretched close to the limit, who needed to laugh. Who needed to be touched.
She’d seen him, truly seen him, and she’d liked him more than ever before.
Which was easy, she supposed. He’d done a very good job of being unlikeable. How much of that had been a mask? And was it just for her, or for others?
A memory flashed through her mind. The first night she’d seen him, when he’d stomped through the Green Hedgehog. No, not just for her.
A movement in front of her broke her out of her thoughts. Owen had swung the door open. “Everything all right?” he called out after she rolled down her window.
“Fine,” she hollered back, holding up her phone. “Just waiting for a text before I head on to the next appointment.”
And then, so she wouldn’t actually be a liar, she texted Jenna.
Kerry: SOS. But a personal one, not actually an emergency.
Her partner replied right away.
Jenna: Those are my favourite kinds of emergency. I’m at home if you want to come by for tea.
Tea. That sounded like an exceptional excuse to stop at the bakery and pick up butter tarts. When she pulled up out front, she was surprised to see a For Sale sign in the window. But it was business as usual inside.
She mentioned it to Jenna, though, who was more up on the local gossip.
“Apparently the Minellis are retiring. They want to travel and spend time with their grandkids.”
“I hope they find a buyer for it. Losing these tarts would be the worst.”
“True story.” Jenna poured them each a big mug of tea, and they settled into the breakfast nook that overlooked her forest of a backyard. Jenna lived outside of town, in a house her husband had custom built for her with his brothers. If Kerry had visited here before they’d looked at the clinic, she wouldn’t have doubted Jake Foster’s ability to do anything.
Jenna’s house was a jewel, fit for a queen. Over the last few months, her partner had opened up more about what had brought her to Pine Harbour in the first place, and Kerry was in awe of Jenna’s commitment—to her husband, who’d been injured overseas, and to her vision for their life together.
Sometimes, Kerry felt like she had zero vision for her own future.
Other than her career, everything in her life had always been about the here and now, about living in the present. And she had a lot of fun doing that. It wasn’t that she had regrets—not at all. But now she was full of weird and complicated, conflicting feelings.
Jenna had confided her secrets in Kerry. It was time for their roles to switch.
“I almost kissed Owen Kincaid,” she said. “Just now. At his house. While my client was asleep in the other room.”
Jenna’s mug hit the table with a thud. Then she grinned. “Almost? How…almost?”
Kerry shivered again, remembering the feel of Owen’s hands against her face, the soft way he’d touched her skin. “Just, uh, you know. He was right there, and we both wanted to. And then we agreed we couldn’t.”
“Right. It wouldn’t be professional.”
“Exactly.”
“But it would be hot.”
Kerry wanted to protest, but Jenna wasn’t wrong. She smiled. “It would be.”
“Do you want me to take over as Becca’s primary?”
“No.” Kerry inhaled sharply. She wouldn’t put her personal interest in Owen ahead of a client’s care. “I told him we are just neighbours and colleagues until she’s out of my care.”
Jenna wiggled her eyebrows. “Can I come to the next interagency working group session?”
Kerry groaned. That was next week. Oh boy. Of course, with Pine Harbour being the size it was, she was likely to run into him at the grocery store the next day, and at Mac’s at least once before the meeting.
But a sustained two-hour session of trying not to notice the way his arms flexed when he moved paper? Not to watch how his fingers clenched a pen, knowing how tender they could feel against her skin?
The meetings would be torture.
And yet she was looking forward to them.
Danger, danger. She needed to burn off this energy in the worst way, so she changed the subject and proposed something she hadn’t felt like doing since she moved to the peninsula. “I’m feeling antsy. Let’s go dancing. We can get a hotel room in Owen Sound for the night.”