Allison Leigh - Yuletide Baby Bargain

She turned Layla around so she was sitting on Maddie’s lap. “So what’s going on between you and Jax?”

Except for the way the sinewy muscles roping over his shoulders flexed, he gave little response. “Nothing new. How do I get a DNA test done?”

Layla leaned her head back against Maddie’s chest, and she couldn’t resist rubbing her cheek against the infant’s silky hair. “The hospital in Weaver can facilitate it. I know they’ve got a sizeable backload, though.” His determination wasn’t exactly a surprise, even though it had been more than a decade since she’d come up against it. “You do expect Jax to come back, don’t you?”

Linc turned around, folding his arms across his wide chest. It only seemed to make his jeans hang even more precariously below some serious washboard abs. Maddie might be feeling her age lately, but Linc was five years older and, on him, thirty-five sat very well.

“He always comes back. He does own Magic Jax. Sooner or later, he checks in on the bar.”

“And you really have no idea where he could be?”

He shook his head, then rubbed his hand over his chin, and then down his chest.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying not to stare. “You’re going to look for him anyway. Right?”

His lips thinned. “I should have given you something to sleep in,” he said, rather than answering her question.

Which just made her wonder even more about the state of their brotherly love. “No need.” It was much too easy to imagine slipping a T-shirt of Linc’s over her head. And it wasn’t professional at all. “It’s one night. I’m fine like this.”

“Have you slept at all?”

She nodded and stood. The spacious nursery felt much too close. “I think I’ll fix Layla a small bottle. Maybe she’ll sleep afterward. You want to hold her?”

He immediately shoved his hands in his front pockets.

She averted her eyes from the fine line of dark hair running downward from the flat indent of his navel, and headed toward the doorway. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“She’s happy with you.”

She realized he was following her, and hoped that he would turn into whichever room leading off the wide hallway belonged to him.

But he didn’t. Soon, she’d reached the staircase. He flipped on a light as she grabbed the bannister and started down.

Since Maddie had first promised that she would at least stay there for the night, he hadn’t made a single attempt to hold the baby. “You realize that if you do get your way where Layla is concerned—no matter how temporary—you’re going to have to hold her. You’re going to have to change a diaper or two. And you’re not going to want to throw away every blanket just because it gets a little soiled.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Jax and I had nannies when we were little. So can Layla.”

Sure. A single, male foster father. Who hired nannies. Judge Stokes would love that.

Maddie pressed her lips together and continued down the stairs in silence.

He flipped on lights as they made their way to the kitchen. The lone baby bottle was still sitting on a clean towel next to the sink where Maddie had left it last. Before she could mix up more formula, Linc did.

She sat on one of the bar stools at the island and watched.

And wondered some more.

About Linc and Jax.

About the nursery.

About how the bare skin stretching over Linc’s shoulders would feel beneath her fingertips...

She swallowed and looked down into Layla’s wide-awake face. The baby’s fingers were again wrapped in Maddie’s hair. Linc was warming the formula by holding the bottle under the faucet and running hot water the same way she’d done it. “From what I’ve heard, Swift Oil is doing well.”

He made a sound. Agreement, she guessed. Although if Swift Oil weren’t doing well, he wouldn’t admit it. Greer would know. Her sister kept her finger far more securely on the pulse of local businesses than Maddie did.

Layla continued tugging merrily on Maddie’s hair.

She noticed a crock of cooking utensils sitting next to the enormous gas range, so she got up and pulled an oversize wooden spoon from the selection. Layla released Maddie’s hair and grabbed for it. Maddie returned to the stool, holding Layla on her lap. The wooden spoon smacked the counter and Layla jerked, gurgling. “Fun stuff, huh?”

Her eyes strayed to Lincoln’s back, roving up the long, bisecting line of his spine. She was vaguely mesmerized by the shift of muscles.

But then she realized he’d shut off the water and was turning toward her, and felt her face start to flush.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice as he handed the bottle to her. “Hope it’s warm enough.”

She shook a few drops onto her inner wrist. “It’s fine.” The sight of the bottle had tempted Layla away from her banging. She quickly abandoned the spoon to reach for the bottle. Soon, her head was tilted back against Maddie’s chest as she sighed and drank.

Something ached inside Maddie. Unless she ever met a guy who didn’t stand her up, there wasn’t any likelihood of answering that particular biological tick-tock anytime soon.

“Surprised you’re not married by now with kids of your own.”

Had he always been a mind reader?

She didn’t look at him. “Could say the same about you. I’m sure you could have found someone good enough to take the illustrious Swift name.” She shifted the baby’s weight a little, almost missing the twisted grimace that came and went on his face. “What?”

He just shook his head before opening the refrigerator. “You want something to eat? Drink? Maybe a bottle of one of Jax’s precious Belgian beers?” Linc glanced over his shoulder at her, holding up a dark bottle. “Suppose not,” he answered before she could, and stuck the beer back on the shelf. “Milk is probably still more your speed.”

She assumed that wasn’t a compliment. “I don’t need anything, thank you. And what’s wrong with milk, anyway?”

“Not a thing.” He pulled out a bottle of mineral water and let the door swing closed as he twisted off the cap. “If you’re ten years old.”

She made a face at him.

He sat down on one of the other bar stools. “Or nursing an ulcer.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“So I’ve heard.”

No doubt. He was more the type to cause them in someone else.

Despite everything, the thought felt uncharitable.

Layla’s warm little body was growing heavier as she relaxed.

The only sounds in the kitchen came from the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and Layla’s faint sighs as she worked the nipple.

Maddie swallowed. Her lips felt dry. She stared at the white veins in the dark gray soapstone counter, trying not to be so aware of him sitting only a few feet away. “Hard to believe it’s going to be Christmas soon,” she said, feeling a little desperate to say something. “The year’s gone by really fast.”

“Tends to do that the older you get.”

She snuck a glance at his solemn profile. “You sound like your grandmother.”

His lips kicked up before he lifted the green bottle to his mouth again.

“I remember the way she always decorated this place for Christmas.” When Layla’s head lolled a little, Maddie set aside the nearly empty bottle and lifted the baby to her shoulder to rub her back. Layla promptly burped and snuggled her face against Maddie’s neck. “She always had the tallest Christmas trees. Tallest I’d ever seen, at least. Up until my grandmother, Vivian, moved to Weaver a little while ago from back East.”

“We’ve met.”

Maddie blinked but then dismissed her surprise. Why wouldn’t Vivian Archer Templeton—who was Richie Rich-rich thanks to Pennsylvania steel and a bunch of wealthy dead husbands—have met the guy who ran Swift Oil? “Anyway,” she went on, “Vivian’s tree was crazy tall the same way Ernestine’s used to be. My grandmother’s was more like an untouchable art piece, though. All covered in crystal and gold. What I remember about the trees here is that they were much homier.” Popcorn garlands. Popsicle-stick ornaments. Real candy canes that Jax would sneak to school and share with Maddie and her sisters. “Her trees were like the ones my mother had. Only more than twice the size.”