Michelle Major - Anything For His Baby

Shep felt his eyebrows furrow. “This is only the second time we’ve been here. I don’t think that counts as a weekly lunch.”

“Close enough,” Katie murmured. “And you brought your better half today.” She gingerly fingered the end of Rosie’s wispy hair. “Will she wake up to eat?”

“Maybe.” Honestly, Shep hoped not. Rosie needed sleep as badly as he did. “Can you bring a bowl of mac and cheese just in case?”

“Of course. And what can I get for the two of you?”

Cole and Shep ordered then Katie walked back toward the counter.

Shep took a long drink of the water Katie had left on the table. “It’s hard to believe everyone around here is so damn nice.”

Rosie twitched then settled against him again.

“Enough with the cursing around the baby,” Cole said, laughing softly. “Mom would skin you alive if she heard that.”

“Yeah.” Shep pressed two fingers to his forehead and sighed. Add cursing to the list of habits he needed to improve to be a decent father. “She would have loved Rosie,” he said softly.

“It broke her heart when you left.” Cole’s voice was strained.

“Don’t put that on me,” Shep shot back, forcing himself to remain calm so he wouldn’t wake his daughter. It was a challenge as a mix of guilt and anger rushed through him. This was the downside of being near Cole—the reminders of his mistakes and the pain he’d caused the people he loved the most.

Cole’s response to being hurt was to rise above it...to be the bigger man. Shep wanted to emotionally gut anyone who wronged him, and he didn’t care who ended up as collateral damage. In most cases, he’d done a bang-up job on that front, especially with his mother. But he wouldn’t take full blame.

“There wasn’t much left of her heart after Dad put that gun to his head,” he said, the words feeling even more like poison on his tongue while he held Rosie.

“She needed both of us.”

Shep barked out a laugh. “I’m sure you took care of her. You take care of everything. No one needs me if you’re around.”

“That’s not true,” Cole said, his mouth pulled tight.

“We both know it is,” Shep countered. “You were always number one.”

Cole opened his mouth to argue then shut it again. “I don’t want to have this conversation every time we’re together.”

They moved on to less contentious topics until Katie brought their food to the table, oblivious to or purposely ignoring the tension that crackled between them.

When she’d walked away again, Shep took a bite of his turkey sandwich, savoring the homemade bread and the tangy garlic mayo along with the thick cut of turkey breast. “Mine is better,” he said, lifting his sandwich in Cole’s direction.

“No way.” Cole picked up half of his chicken salad on wheat and placed it on Shep’s plate. “Try that.”

Suddenly the anger that had spiked in Shep seeped away, and he was back to every meal he’d ever eaten out with his brother. He handed his second half of sandwich to Cole. This was their routine. They ordered and then taunted the other with how much better their choice was. Then they traded portions.

Simple as that, and Shep realized how much he’d missed it. Ordering from a menu and being stuck with only one selection, even if it was great, was boring as hell.

“Turkey’s still better,” he said, taking a big bite of chicken salad. Behind him came the sound of giggling from the bridge brigade. He glanced over to see them staring. One of the women waggled her fingers, and Shep quickly turned his attention back to his plate.

“In your dreams,” Cole said.

Shep grinned. “Gonna eat that pickle?”

Cole handed over the spear. He’d always hated pickles. Shep wondered how many people knew that about the sheriff.

“Sienna isn’t happy with you,” Cole said after a moment. “She talked to Paige yesterday about The Bumblebee.”

“The Bumblebee,” Shep repeated, racking his brain what that name should mean to him. “The dilapidated house I bought?”

“It’s not exactly dilapidated,” Cole said, his tone back to brotherly chastising. “Paige Harper is Sienna’s best friend in Crimson. Paige is upset so now Sienna’s upset—”

“Which makes you upset,” Shep interrupted then snorted. “Come on, Cole. How whipped are you? That house is nothing. It’s a vintage eyesore.”

“It doesn’t work that way in small towns,” Cole said patiently. “Not in Crimson, anyway. People have strong ties here, Shep. You’re going to need to respect the town’s history and character as you move forward with your project. This isn’t California, and folks around here won’t take kindly to a stranger coming in and changing everything with no regard to what it means for the community.”

Shep felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t want to hear this. His job was to make money for Trinity, not to pussyfoot around the emotional whims of the town. He was here to open the ski resort, earn another feather for his cap then move on to whatever came next. Rosie yawned in his arms then blinked awake, her eyes lighting at the sight of the macaroni and cheese. Hopefully, what came next involved a full-time nanny. “Yeah, whatever.”

“You always did like to do things the hard way.” Cole pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table. “I’ve got to get back. Bring Rosie over this weekend. Jase and Emily are coming for dinner on Saturday with Davey.”

“Great,” Shep said with fake enthusiasm. “Kids and babies. My favorite.”

“You’re the expert.” Cole got up and leaned forward as if to kiss Rosie’s head, then seemed to think better of it when she whimpered and shot him a death glare. “Shep Bennett, Mr. Mom. I wasn’t sure about you moving to Crimson, but the truth is I love having a front-row seat for this.”

“See ya, Uncle Cole.” Shep lifted Rosie’s chubby hand and waved it at his brother. “Don’t let the door hit you in the—” He stopped himself before swearing again then narrowed his eyes when Cole chuckled.

“See you this weekend.”

Shep’s phone rang and he checked the screen then stifled another curse when Rosie swatted at it, knocking the device from his hand. It clattered to the floor and a young man decked out in climbing gear at the table next to him bent to retrieve it.

“Dude,” the guy breathed. “Your screen shattered. Bummer.”

“Bummer,” Shep repeated, dragging in a deep breath. He wondered if he’d manage to make it to the weekend.

Chapter Three

Paige clicked off the television, her heart beating wildly as the knocking on the front door became more insistent.

The Bumblebee Bed-and-Breakfast was situated at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, the property surrounded by trees and set two hundred yards back from the road. It bordered Forest Service land on one side and the ski mountain sat beyond the yard out back.

Not that the remote location at the base of Crimson Mountain made her immune to trouble with her nearest neighbor. The Morrisons, who lived on the corner, lost their minds at the tiniest infraction of covenants or Crimson’s noise ordinance. Most recently, they’d called the cops when she and Sienna, who’d been the inn’s first and only guest so far, had a dance party one night after a pitcher of too-strong margaritas.

Paige couldn’t imagine them having a complaint with her tonight. Even with the windows open to let in the cool night breeze, noise from the television wouldn’t have drifted to their house. She’d replaced her porch light last week and pulled in the trash and recycling cans after the garbage men emptied them earlier.

There was nothing—

Was that a baby crying?

She stood, tossing aside the remote and heading for the front door. Before she started bingeing cop shows, back in the day when she missed almost an entire semester of high school because of chemo and radiation, she’d watched every movie of the week she could find on DVD. The abandoned baby, left on the doorstep...or dumpster...or near the bushes, was a classic trope in those flicks. It was difficult to imagine someone doing that now, but why else would she hear crying? It wasn’t the sound of a newborn, more of a child who was having a tantrum.