Terry McLaughlin - Maybe, Baby

“Burke.” She whispered his name with a finger against her lips. “I just got her to sleep.”

“Congratulations.”

He stood in the center of the room, uncertain of his next move. She sighed and leaned her head against the chair, and he noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m just going to sit here a while longer and enjoy the quiet.” She shifted the baby slightly. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I don’t?” One of her feathery brows arched up in amusement. “Don’t you start getting sarcastic with me, buster. I’m the mom here. I’ll send you to your room.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re a good one. A good mother.”

The rocker stilled. “Do you really think so?”

Yes, he did, but why had he blurted it out like that? Another renegade thought coming at him from an unknown source. He obviously wasn’t himself tonight, speaking without thinking things through. “You’re much more patient than I thought you’d be.”

“Patient?”

“With the—” he waved his hand in a circle “—with the spitting up. And the crying. And—and everything.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Thank you.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“I’m sure you did,” she said, although she didn’t seem all that convinced of the fact.

“Is it normal for a baby to be…to be so—”

“Annoying?”

“I’m sure she’s not doing it on purpose.”

Nora stared at him for a long moment. “Come here,” she said at last. “You haven’t had a chance to get a good look at her.”

He was tempted to disagree, but he tiptoed across the room and moved to Nora’s side to peer at the infant in her arms.

Asleep, Ashley was a different baby entirely. Pink and delicate, and… amazing , now that he had this chance to study her without any anxiety about holding her correctly or bracing for something unpleasant. Every feature that should be present was correctly in place—and each of them was an incredible, perfect miniature. He had never seen human hair so fine, curving in such interesting waves, or such a little nose turning up in such a wonderfully sculpted shape. The tiny spikes of her eyelashes spread in a soft crescent along cheeks that already showed the promise of her mother’s lush curves, and her pink lips bowed with the hint of a killer pout. As he watched, her mouth moved in a silent rhythm.

“What is she doing?” he whispered. “Is she dreaming?”

“Maybe.” Nora wrapped a fuzzy yellow blanket more securely over the baby’s shoulder. “I wonder what she dreams about. What she thinks.”

“Why does she cry so much?” He shifted from behind Nora’s chair so he could stare from a different angle. “Is she in pain?”

“A lot of the time, poor thing. She’s colicky, always has been. She’ll grow out of it eventually.”

“Poor Ashley.”

Nora looked up with a smile and reached for his hand, and he took hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Neither of them let go for a moment, and in the next moment it was too late—he was too aware of the feel of her hand in his to release it and return to the old ease between them. Her awkward tug as she pulled away told him she’d felt the same.

He rubbed one foot over the other, wondering how to make her smile again, how to undo this puzzling tension between them. He told himself they’d get things sorted out in the morning, when they’d both had a bit more sleep, but he couldn’t think of an appropriate exit line.

“You can go back to bed now,” she said. “We won’t be making any more noise for a while, and you should grab some sleep while you have the chance.”

“Is that what you do now? Grab sleep in snatches?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

She stared at her sleeping child with an achingly tender smile and set the chair in motion again. “For as long as it takes.”

He’d seen the smile he’d waited for, and now he was strangely sorry it was time to go. The expression on her face seemed to pierce right through him, reaching deep into a spot he hadn’t known existed until it twinged with a bittersweet pain.

“Good night, then,” he said.

“Good night, Burke.”

Her low, throaty tune followed him down the cold, dim hallway.

CHAPTER FIVE

NORA SHOVED a hunk of hair behind one ear and frowned at the jumble of dishes in the sink and the meager pile of breakfast ingredients on the kitchen counter. She hadn’t kept up with the housework, she’d forgotten she was running low on her emergency supply of breakfast basics, and now she had to share all her shortcomings with an unexpected guest.

A guest who wandered through her house in the middle of the night, intruding on her private time, the dark and quiet hours when she was most lonely, most vulnerable. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that, with her pillow-mussed hair and her fatigue-tinged eyes, with her spit-up-stained nightgown and her ratty robe. And yet it had been good to know there was someone else there, someone who cared about her enough to come looking for her, to offer her assistance and reassurance.

She’d forgotten how supportive Burke could be. Had always been.

But before last night, they’d always spent their time together in small doses, in afternoons at Fitz’s house or quick conversations at parties, in snatches of between-scene activity on the set or in a shared meal. In passing, really.

It wasn’t until she’d been confronted by his things in her bathroom this morning—neatly arranged and organized—that she’d begun to consider the consequences of her impulsive invitation, to worry over the damage sharing such close quarters might do to their friendship. They were already dealing with a difficult situation. Why had she added another layer of stress to it?

And why had he agreed to the arrangement?

“Good morning.”

She turned to see him standing in the hall doorway, looking adorably tense, his shower-damp hair slicked back and his briefcase dangling from one hand. The boots on his feet looked new enough to give him blisters, and his crisp white shirt was neatly tucked into jeans that looked so stiff they could probably stand on their own creased legs.

“Good morning,” she said. “I hope you’re not too hungry.”

He frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Why?”

“Because the snow might be too deep to get to the ranch house, and I don’t have much to eat here.”

He strode to the window above the table and stared at the white-coated scene outside. “It doesn’t look too deep to me. Besides, I rented an SUV.”

“I know.” She picked up a carving knife and hacked at the slightly stale bagel she’d found in the bread bin. “It was a good idea, too.”

“It’s for driving in the snow.”

“It’s for driving without chains on snowy pavement that’s been plowed.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m not sure a city slicker like you could handle an off-road, cross-country trek.”

“Are you saying we might be stuck here?” He cleared his throat, neatly covering the note of panic she’d heard in his voice. “Isn’t there someone we can call?”

“About what?”

“About getting us out of here.”

“You just got here.” She turned with a smile and offered half the bagel, slathered with cream cheese. “Relax. It’s Saturday. Put your feet up. Have a bagel.”

“I don’t want a bagel. Thank you,” he added politely. “I’d like to see about arranging for an Internet connection.”

“Ah, yes. The Internet. First things first.”