Laura Altom - The Baby And The Cowboy Seal

Macy did.

But when Wiley held her son as if he were as exotic as a three-headed calf, Henry pouted, huffed a bit, then fell into a full-blown wail.

“I didn’t do anything,” Wiley said.

“That’s the point.” Macy didn’t want to get close enough to Wiley to recognize his old familiar scent, but for the sake of her son, she cautiously approached, taking the baby from him, only to turn Henry around so that he faced Wiley. “Hold him like you mean it, otherwise, he’ll be scared. Like this...” She bit her lip while positioning Wiley’s arms around Henry.

The mere act of touching the cowboy brought back so much she’d rather forget—the electric awareness that years earlier she’d chalked up to raging teen hormones was still there. The simple brush of forearm to forearm, fingers to fingers made her whole body hum. The simple touch reminded her how long it had been since she’d been with a man—if ever, considering the fact that she no longer considered her ex to be anything more than a self-centered man-child.

“How’s this, little fella?” Wiley’s voice had turned hoarse. Could he be as confused as she?

“If you’re sure you’re okay with Henry, I’ll grab an extra place setting and make your salad.”

“I don’t need a salad—or anything special. A paper plate will do.”

“Over my grandmother’s dead body.” As soon as the words were out, Macy regretted them. Being back in her grandmother’s house sometimes made it easy to forget Dot no longer lived on the mountain. Macy imagined her out in the garden or off berry picking, instead of being in a nursing home. “Well, I don’t mean dead, but you know—”

“I get it. And if you want to go to the trouble, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

For the longest time, she stood there, unsure what to do with her hands or pounding heart. But then she turned to take the lettuce and tomatoes from the refrigerator’s vegetable bin, trying to ignore the discomfort of being near Wiley.

As efficiently as possible, she washed and dried the lettuce, then tore it into bite-size pieces. She cut a small tomato and added it all to a china bowl.

When she turned to set Wiley’s salad on the table, the sight of him bouncing her son on his good leg was mesmerizing. Henry’s grin was huge—as was the trail of drool on his chin—but that didn’t matter. A funny tightening warred in her chest. She wanted to stay mad at Wiley, but how could she when he gave her son pleasure?

“He’s really something,” he said. “You did good, Mace.”

“Thank you.” She took an extra plate from the china cabinet, then silver utensils from her grandmother’s wooden chest.

“Your husband was a damned fool—sorry for cussing, but it’s the truth.”

A pinecone-sized knot lodged at the back of her throat, so instead of replying, she nodded.

“I am sorry for yesterday. Sometimes the pain is so much that I get a little out of my mind—it’s not an excuse. Just the truth.”

“Have you told your doctor that your pain meds don’t work?”

“Don’t take them.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “Lots of guys get hooked. I’d rather just deal with the pain.”

“But don’t you see that if you’re hurting bad enough to lose your temper and drink, then you’re not really dealing with anything at all?”

“Look...” He sighed. “I’m doing all right today, so can we please change the topic? I found a guy willing to take some of the scrap metal in my yard, so I spent part of the morning loading it up. I’ve gone so soft, it’s gonna take a while, but I figure I need the exercise.”

“Would you like my help?” Her heart ached for him—for the boy she used to love and the man she didn’t yet know. He used to be a maverick—wild and free, roaming all over this mountain without a care for anything other than where his next adventure may lead.

“Nah, I can manage.”

“I’m sure, but like we talked about before you slipped back into your hard-ass routine, maybe life would be easier for both of us if we shared the tough stuff.”

“You just broke your own ‘no cursing around the baby’ rule.”

Macy tossed her head back, clasping her suddenly throbbing forehead.

“Just saying...” He shocked her with the sort of mischievous grin he might have used on her grandmother when he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Did she strangle or hug him? “You’re so confusing. Yesterday, you were out of your mind—ugly and just plain mean. And now, you’re all smiley? No. Not gonna work, Wiley. I need consistency in my life—not more crazy. You don’t make sense.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

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