Annie Jones - Bundle of Joy

Chapter Two

“Baby!” The ruggedly handsome cowboy standing inches away from the doorway of the Crosspoint Café looked genuinely shocked at that news. “Lady, I don’t have a baby, but if I did, nothing in the world would make me drop it off somewhere and walk away.”

She wanted to believe him. But then, Shelby tended to want to believe everyone—her dreamer of a dad, her liar of an ex-boyfriend, all her friends and coworkers who told her that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. And she had paid the price for that.

Shelby drew in a deep breath and went over the three promises she had made to herself last night. She had felt so strongly about them, she had included them in the note still clutched in her hand.

1. Never forget that with God all things are possible.

2. Never let anyone else tell her what she “should” feel.

3. Never, ever trust a cowboy.

“I’d like to say I believe you, but...”

She skimmed her gaze over the man before her. Tall, lean, dark-haired, with steely eyes burning into her from the shadow of a gray Stetson. He was the picture of cool, calm and all-cowboy. The culmination of years of disappointment in men like this made it impossible for her to simply trust whatever this one had to say.

“But I did come out and find you bent over this basket. How do I know you didn’t leave it and weren’t just about to take off?”

“Sheriff Denby says to stay put. He’ll get here as soon as he can,” called Tyler Sprague, the teenage clerk, whom Shelby had known since she’d watched him in the church nursery.

“Okay.” Shelby clutched the basket close, relieved to have a chance to look away from the stranger. “Let’s get her inside.”

The cowboy cocked his head. “Her?”

She stopped mid-turn, her foot raised above the threshold. “What?”

He leaned in close. Closer than she’d normally have allowed a man to get to her, especially one she didn’t know. “You called the baby her.”

She could hear her own heart beating. Heat surged up from her neck to her cheeks, then all the way to the tops of her ears. She raised her chin to try to look beyond the man who had just challenged her—in more ways than one—to the kid standing behind him. “We’re taking him or her inside, Tyler.”

The young man gave the thumbs-up even as he began heading for the mini-mart entrance. “I’ll close up and come over.”

The man held the door open for her and the baby in the basket, waiting until she passed so close that the blankets brushed against the sleeve of his denim jacket. Then he murmured, “You said her.”

Shelby went sailing across the threshold, which she thought she would never cross again, her head held high. “I didn’t want to say it. Babies are human beings, not its.”

Once inside, he whisked his hat off his head like a true Texas gentleman. “That much I agree with, but still...”

“Just what are you accusing me of?” She set the basket down on the tabletop. She could see the man’s eyes much better now. That wasn’t making it any easier for her to talk to him. She bent her head and gazed down at the infant’s small, sweet face instead. “That is what you’re doing, right? Accusing me of something?”

“I was just asking a question.” He stood there for a moment, with expectation hanging in the air between them.

Shelby had never been grilled by the police in her life, but she kind of got the feeling this was how it would be. She pressed her lips closed, getting the sense that anything she said could and would be used against her. And yet she didn’t feel threatened so much as...

His gaze sank into hers.

She took a quick, sharp breath and didn’t let it out until he looked into the basket. His eyes narrowed. After a moment, he shook his head. “What kind of person would not only forsake their child, but also leave it alone in the night outside a closed café?”

“We weren’t supposed to be closed,” Shelby said softly, unable to take her eyes off the small pink child in the basket. A baby whose appearance here tonight had foiled her big plans.

The baby stretched and squirmed. Long lashes stirred, then lifted. The baby looked right at Shelby, then at the road-weary, bleary-eyed cowboy.

“She’s so... I just don’t see how anyone could...” The word strangled in Shelby’s throat. Tears burned in her eyes—again. She would have thought after the past few days, since she had made up her mind what she had to do, that she’d cried all the tears she’d been allotted for a lifetime. But nope, here they were again. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day and...”

“Her eyes are blue,” he murmured.

“Lots of babies have blue eyes at first,” she assured him, swiping away what she resolved would be her last tear with the back of her hand.

“Your eyes are blue.” He jerked his head up to nail her with a discerning stare.

Really? This total stranger, this cowboy kitten rescuer, was testing her like that? Any other time in her life, she would have stumbled all over herself to assure him she was above reproach...because, well, she was in this instance. But tonight, with her new resolve to take charge of her life, she decided to give as good as she got.

She gave one last sniffle, then moved around the suspicious, questioning cowboy slowly, her gaze fixed on his face. “You just called the baby her.”

He glowered at her—for about two seconds. His smile broke over his face slowly, not at all like the bold grin he had flashed at her earlier that had thrown her completely off-kilter. This smile, and the way his broad shoulders relaxed as he rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head as a concession to her standing up to him, warmed Shelby to the very pit of her clenched stomach.

“Maybe we should look for a note or something.” He started to reach into the tangle of flannel blankets.

“Wait.” She stuck her hand out to stop him. The instant her fingertips brushed his jacket, her breath went still. She curled her fist against her chest and managed to sound a little less flustered than she felt as she asked, “Won’t the police want to look for fingerprints?”

“Not likely. First of all, you won’t get prints off flannel. Besides that, unless whoever left this baby has a criminal record in a database easily accessed by the local cops, it really won’t be an issue.” He reached in, cradled the whole body of the small infant in his large, strong hands, then lifted the baby up.

Despite her clashing emotions, Shelby couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the sight of the cowboy and child framed by the window of the silent café. “You seem pretty sure of what you’re doing.”

“Spent a lot of time in foster care. I learned a lot about looking after little ones.” He shifted to get the baby situated right against his broad shoulder.

“No, I meant...”

The baby let out a soft sound, then snuggled in close, drawing its legs up. A tiny milk bubble formed on the sweet little lips, which made those chubby pink cheeks almost unbearably pinchable.

The stranger leaned back to check out what was going on with the baby. Then he smiled—just a little and only for a half a second at most.

Shelby sighed.

“Around here, everybody knows how to tend to babies and children and old folks and...whatever needs tending to.” Except the one guy she had hitched her heart to, she couldn’t help noting to herself. Mitch Warner hadn’t known how to take care of anyone but himself, and he’d even done that poorly. “What I meant was that you seem to know a lot about police work.”

“That I picked up after foster care.” He began to pat the child’s back.

She stood there, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, waiting for him to elaborate. How did he pick up his knowledge of police procedures? Was he the type to associate with lawmen...or lawbreakers?