Laura Altom - Babies and Badges

All of those reasons combined had since taught her a valuable life lesson. That fairy tales were better left to the experts at Disney. For in real life, when it came to relationships with men, there was no such thing as happily ever after.

Now, relationships with babies on the other hand…

“She sure smells good,” Noah said, nuzzling the baby’s downy soft hair. “How ’bout giving her a flower name? Petunia or Hydrangea?”

Cassie made a face. “Still not quite right.”

He shifted the infant from where she’d rested her tiny head against his chest to cradle her in his arms. Putting the tip of his long index finger to her nose, he said, “You gave me one heck of a scare, young lady.”

“Me, too,” Cassie said, queasy at just the memory of how dicey her second child’s birth had been.

“Now, I look at you,” Noah said to the tiny infant, “and all I see is hope. Hope for a very bright future filled with giggles and sunshine and water balloon fights and puppies and—”

“Hope,” Cassie said. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“Her name. I’ll call her Hope.”

“Wait a minute, don’t I get a say in this? After all, I was the one who ushered her into this world.”

“True. So, if you don’t like that, then what do you suggest?”

“There’s always Joelle.”

“Noah!”

“Don’t get your diaper in a wad,” he said, his wide smile aimed straight for her heart. “I was just razzing you. Hope sounds perfect.”

Perfect… Cassie thought with a secret smile.

Just like my new friend, Noah, who not only gave both of my daughters their lives, but names.

“PSST. ARE YOU AWAKE?”

Cassie cracked open one eye to see a model-perfect, blue-eyed brunette staring at her—a very pregnant perfect brunette. When Cassie opened both eyes, the woman held out her hand for her to shake.

“Oh, good,” she said. “You are awake. I’m Tiffany. Number Three in Noah’s Lonely Hearts Support Group, formed way back in the early nineties. When Noah’s ex-wife, Darla, decided marriage bored her, Noah decided he felt the same. Since then, we’ve grown considerably. The woman we all thought he’d marry, Kelsey, is Number Seventeen. He’s dated casually after her—no one significant enough for a number, but you, my dear, show promise, and as such, we’ve already assigned you Number Eighteen. Since I’m on maternity leave from Olivetti’s—that’s River-dale’s best dress shop if you happen to need anything while you’re in town—I’ve been nominated by the group to welcome you.”

Cassie’s look must have been blank, because unfortunately the woman continued while her crisp, outdoorsy perfume filled the room.

“No need to look shocked,” she said, “like your babies have been bugged or anything. We have inside sources all over town. At the hospital, Noah dated Nurse Helen—she’s Number Eleven amongst his victims.”

“His victims?”

“Yeah, you know, his Victims in Love—or VILs as we affectionately call ’em. Here,” Tiffany said, reaching into a quilted blue toile purse to pull out a gold foil box. “The girls and I bought you a combination Congratulations on Your Babies/Welcome to the Group gift. I know this must seem a bit premature, offering you membership when you and Noah have only just met, but after what happened at Kelsey’s wedding, we figure Noah’s gotta be on the verge of a total meltdown. Now, the women around here are equipped to handle his many bad boy charms, but we figure you being a city girl, may need a few pointers to come out of this on the right side of sanity.”

“Um, thank you,” Cassie said, taking the box of Godiva chocolates. “I think.”

“Oh dear,” Tiffany said with a pretty frown.

“What?” The severity of her tone tempted Cassie to check herself for broken bones.

“Your expression—sour as a lemon drop. You’re not already hooked on Noah, are you?”

“I don’t think so. I barely know the man.”

Sagely nodding, Tiffany said, “That’s what we all said. Every last one of us believed we’d be the ones to finally hog-tie him, but he’s wily when it comes to commitment. Darla hurt him bad, and I’m warning you, you so much as breathe the word and he’ll bolt. It’s our belief that Kelsey had him so long because we’d precounseled her on this fact. Since she already had that heads-up, she knew better than to ever even ask about taking their relationship to that magical, mystical place we group members call marriage. But then she just had to go and give him that ultimatum, and bam—faster than that tornado we had back in 1998, he was gone.”

Interesting…

The supposedly heartbroken woman’s perfectly manicured red nails were attached to long, tanned fingers sporting an array of not-too-shabby rings. One in particular on her left hand was at least a two-carat square-cut diamond solitaire with matching bejeweled wedding band.

Mind you, Cassie was no expert, but those looked like some serious love baubles to her! This in mind, she blurted, “But you’re married now, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm…” A look of utter bliss drifted over Tiffany’s classically beautiful features as she patted her bulging tummy through her cornflower-blue linen dress. “Noah’s ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech really did a number on my self-esteem. I thought we’d been in love, when all along it turns out I was the only participant in the love part of our relationship—if you could even call it that. Anyway, Denton Harwood, school math club president and heir to the First National Bank of Riverdale, took pity on me and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Congratulations,” Cassie said, fighting back a smile. Was this woman and all seventeen of her friends nuts?

“Thank you. I’ve never been happier, which is why I’m giving you a friendly warning to be careful.”

“Oh, I will,” Cassie said, more to get this nutcase out of her room than because of any fears she had of Noah breaking her heart.

In the first place, after what Tom had done to her, she no longer had a heart when it came to men. And in the second, no matter how handsome he was, or kind and considerate, Noah was only her friend. Period.

“Good,” Tiffany said, patting Cassie’s leg through two layers of cotton blankets. “Deep down, Noah’s a great guy, but he has definite commitment issues. With you just having had twins and all, we would hate to see you caught off guard when you become his eighteenth VIL.”

When Tiffany and her perfume had safely left the room, Cassie rolled her eyes.

The woman might think she knew Noah, but obviously she didn’t. Because if there was one thing Cassie had learned during her brief stay in Riverdale, it was the fact that Sheriff Noah Wheeler was as committed as men come!

“DON’T YOU EVER go to work?”

Late that afternoon, Noah glanced up from the bass fishing magazine he’d been reading in Cassie’s guest chair—the one he’d once again had to move from its usual spot by the window to the head of her bed where he could keep a closer eye on her. “You’re awake.”

“And you’re still here.” Her sleepy grin took the sting out of her words.

“That a problem?” he asked, chest tight with pride—not to mention relief—over the fact that his patient looked healthier by the hour.

“No…” She looked down, pinch-pleating the white sheet. “It’s just that we hardly know each other, yet you’ve moved in. I’ve gotten used to being on my own.”

“That my cue to beat it?” Damn if that sleep-sexy grin of hers wasn’t already revving his engine.

She laughed. “Not at all. You’ve been a godsend in so many ways, but the nurse said we’ll probably be going home tomorrow, so I figure you’ll be glad to get back to your normal schedule.”