Michelle Major - Anything For His Baby

Paige opened the door to reveal Shep standing under her porch light, his daughter wailing in his arms. Rosie paused for a moment to glance at Paige, took a shuddery, hiccuping breath and then let out another sob.

“What’s wrong?” Paige asked, automatically stepping back to let the two of them into the house.

Shep’s normally full mouth tightened at the corners. “Nothing as far as I can tell. She usually only cries like this for the sitters, but tonight she woke up about an hour after I put her to bed. She started crying and hasn’t stopped since.” He shrugged. “The people next door called the landlord to complain. They were trying to sleep but the noise carries through the shared wall in the apartment.”

“Is she sick?” Paige asked, reaching out to press a hand to Rosie’s forehead. The girl screamed harder, if that was possible.

Shep shook his head. “No fever. No symptoms. She’s just upset. I don’t know what else to do.”

“So you came here?” Paige frowned. “Why?”

“Because she reached for you,” he said helplessly, bouncing Rosie. “July Fourth at the festival. She liked you. She doesn’t like anybody, and definitely not any of the nannies I’ve tried to hire. But she seemed to like you.”

“I don’t think she remembers,” Paige said mildly.

Shep closed his eyes, looking pained. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll drive her around until she falls asleep. She can’t stay awake forever.” He laughed, sounding a little hysterical to Paige. “Right?”

“Give her to me.” Paige held out her arms, belatedly remembering that she was wearing her rattiest flannel pajama bottoms, a thin T-shirt and no bra.

Shep stared at her chest for several long beats. She should be offended but it had been years since a man had taken an interest in her body. Shep definitely looked interested, which was saying something since he held a crying baby in his arms.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his face coloring. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. It’s okay.”

Paige reached forward and plucked Rosie out of his arms, settling the screaming toddler on her hip before smoothing a finger across the girl’s dimpled cheek. “What’s the fuss about?” she asked, turning away from Shep and heading toward the hallway.

Rosie wailed, shoulders trembling as she drew in a shaky breath. “Your little throat is going to be raw with all that crying. Can you settle down for me?” Paige leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Rosie’s sweaty head. “Make me look good in front of your daddy, okay?”

Rosie kept crying, although it was softer now. Paige didn’t look back at Shep but continued to the kitchen, where she pulled a box of graham crackers off a shelf in the pantry. “How about a snack and then we’ll rock for a bit?” She talked to the girl in hushed tones as she opened the box and broke off a piece of graham cracker. Rosie took it and shoved it in her mouth, sucking hard.

Paige moved around the room, telling Rosie about her day—anything to distract the child—then pointing out architectural features of the house to the toddler and recounting the history that Paige loved so much about The Bumblebee. If Shep was listening, she wanted him to hear this. She needed him to understand why the inn was special, not just to her but to the town.

This wasn’t naiveté. She understood how change happened, how towns reinvented and rebuilt, but history mattered. The Bumblebee had been one of the first inns to open in Crimson, and she wouldn’t let the past be ignored.

Gnawing away on the graham cracker square, Rosie stopped sniffling and her breathing eventually returned to normal. She rested her head on Paige’s shoulder with a sigh.

The girl was precious, and Paige wondered again what caused her shyness and mood swings.

“You’re a miracle worker,” Shep murmured from directly behind her.

She turned to find him staring, gratitude and relief mixing in his eyes.

“Babies like me,” she said with a shrug. “Squirrels, too.”

Rosie jammed the last of the graham cracker into her mouth then reached for her father. Shep lifted her out of Paige’s arms with a gentle smile.

“Are you ready to head home, Rosie-girl?”

“No,” the girl said with a whimper.

“Stay for a bit,” Paige offered before Shep could argue with his daughter. She might not like Shep, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him when it was clear he was trying so hard to make things right for Rosie. “Would you like a glass of wine or a beer?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “A beer would be great.”

“There’s a comfy rocking chair in the family room,” Paige told him. “Rosie might like it.”

“What do you think, sweetheart?” he asked the toddler. “Are you ready to rock the night away?”

She giggled and nodded.

“Thank you,” Shep mouthed to Paige over Rosie’s head then turned and disappeared down the hall.

Paige pulled a beer from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass of wine and drank half of it in one gulp.

Shep Bennett and his daughter as her late-night visitors. Who would believe it? She reminded herself that Shep was the enemy no matter how adorable and helpless he seemed as a father. Helpless like a lion in a flock of sheep. He wanted to bulldoze The Bumblebee, the place where all of Paige’s happiest childhood memories were housed. All he cared about was profit and easy access to the ski resort.

Shep didn’t care about Paige, even if the way he looked at her made her feel special. He probably turned that charming gaze on every woman he met. If life had taught Paige one glaring lesson, it was that the only time she’d been special was when she was sick. She couldn’t forget that because a desperate daddy made her feel important.

She carried the drinks into the family room, handed Shep the beer then took a seat on the sofa, pulling her unruly curls into a ponytail. Rosie had already fallen asleep, long eyelashes brushing her cheeks and her mouth open slightly.

“Mind if I give her a few more minutes?” Shep asked quietly. “She’s normally a great sleeper but after tonight, I’m gun-shy. If she wakes up when I transfer her to the car—”

“It’s fine.” Paige smiled, her body tingling at the intimacy of the moment. The two of them sharing a quiet interlude in her cozy house. She thumped the heel of her hand against her forehead. The house Shep had closed on today. He owned it now and could kick her out at any moment.

“Did the crying give you a headache?” One side of his mouth quirked. “Rosie has that effect on people.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Paige countered. “I can’t figure out why she has such a problem with the babysitters you hire.” She narrowed her eyes. “You are hiring experienced babysitters, right? Not ex-strippers looking for an easier way to make some money?”

Shep took a pull from the beer bottle. “You think watching Rosie is easier than taking off your clothes while swinging your hips? That seems highly unlikely.”

“You forgot the pole.” Paige tipped her wineglass toward him. “I did a pole-dancing class once. It’s harder than it looks.”

Shep choked on the beer. “You pole dance?” He set down the beer to wipe his sleeve over his mouth.

“It was a bachelorette party for one of my college friends. I never really got the hang of it.”

“What a surprise.”

“Hey.” Paige frowned. “I let you in tonight and calmed your crying baby. Be nice.”

“You’re offended that I can’t picture you strutting your stuff on a stripper pole?”

He held up one finger. “Give me a second,” he whispered then closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, there was humor and something else. Something that looked strangely like attraction. “Got the mental picture. I’ll tell you, darlin’, I have a great imagination.”