Jill Limber - The 15 Lb. Matchmaker

He was about the size of her cousin’s youngest child, so she guessed he must be about ten months old. “Did you just wake up?”

Jolie took her jacket off and laid it over the back of a chair. “My name is Jolie.”

Slowly she moved into the middle of the room, then stopped about five feet from the battered crib. “I don’t know your name because your daddy had to leave in a hurry.” And he’s a handsome, rude man, she added to herself.

The baby sat motionless, staring at her with his big blue eyes.

“So this is your room. I don’t know where I’m supposed to sleep.” The baby’s room contained just the crib, an old wooden dresser and a single bed with a bare mattress.

No toys or stuffed animals littered the room. Griff’s housekeeper must be a very tidy woman. “Where’s all your stuff?”

The baby didn’t move or change his facial expression at her inane conversation. He just continued to stare at her. She moved a little closer to the bed and watched him watching her.

“Are you ready to get up?” Jolie had no idea if he was waking from a nap, or had been put down for the night. She took another step toward the bed, feeling as though she was in the middle of a one-person, red-light-green-light game.

When he showed no signs of being alarmed by her presence, Jolie moved all the way to the bars of the crib. He was dressed in a blanket sleeper, and she could tell from where she stood that he needed a fresh diaper.

“How about we get you cleaned up and go find your daddy. I have some things I need to say to him,” she said, not allowing her annoyance to show in her voice.

It wasn’t the baby’s fault that his father had no manners.

She lowered the side of the crib and reached in to get him. He allowed her to pick him up, and when she lifted him up against her chest, he put his head on her shoulder and wound his arms around her neck, then gave what sounded like a little sigh as he nestled into her body.

Jolie felt her heart turn over. In that instant she fell in love with a little boy whose name she didn’t even know.

Jolie sat at the dining room table, her temper simmering just below the boiling point. Holding the quiet baby in her lap with one hand and, with the other, folding clean baby clothes she had discovered in the dryer, she waited for Griff Price to return.

Where was he? Didn’t people who worked on a ranch quit when the sun went down? It had been dark for hours.

She slapped a tiny shirt down on the shiny tabletop. “There’s no excuse for the way he walked out on me,” she said to the baby, careful to use a cheerful conversational tone that masked her feelings.

“Leaving you with a stranger.” Tossing the shirt into the basket, she yanked a faded sleeper out of the small pile.

She kissed the top of his head. “He didn’t say ten words to me on the way here from the diner.”

Jolie took a deep breath, trying to relax, then nuzzled the tumble of clean curls on the baby’s crown. “How does he know I can be trusted with you?”

If he were her little boy she’d never leave him with someone she didn’t know.

She’d given him his bath, fed him, and he was now ready to be put to bed. Together they had explored the house while she’d waited for her employer to return.

No matter how busy Griff claimed to be, the man should have been home early enough to spend some time with his son. She knew from her training nothing mattered more than the early bonding between a parent and child.

That was why she had spent so much time with her cousin’s children when they traveled and left them in the care of their nanny for weeks at a time.

She assumed this little boy’s mother had already deserted him. If she lived nearby, Jolie reasoned, the ex-wife would be caring for her son. Griff wouldn’t have had to hire Jolie.

Jolie’s thoughts shifted to the child she held. She was worried about the baby. He was too quiet.

He didn’t try to crawl, and he didn’t reach for things. He just watched her and clung to her when she picked him up. He didn’t laugh or vocalize in any way.

Maybe it was because she was a stranger. Tomorrow, when he was used to her, he would probably be more active.

She glanced around the dining room. Something was not right about the home environment, either. Earlier, as she’d wandered through the house getting acquainted with the place, she’d felt uneasy.

The wonderful old Victorian was clean and extremely tidy, but there were no homey touches, no warmth. Nothing that hinted at the people who lived here. As if the clutter of everyday life, the things that told something about the residents, was not allowed to accumulate.

It bothered her. Not for Griff Price’s sake. Whatever had made him such a closed-off grouch was his problem. Jolie’s concern was all for the baby she held in her arms.

As she waited, she smoothed her hand over the little boy’s fuzzy blanket sleeper and enjoyed the weight and warmth of him as he settled back against her lap. “I have some questions for your daddy.”

He turned his head and looked up at her with his big blue eyes. “I don’t even know your name.” Jolie stroked the soft skin of his little cheek.

“I’m not even sure where your daddy wants me to sleep.” She stroked his cheek again, and his eyelids blinked sleepily.

There was a bedroom next to the baby’s room, but she didn’t want to presume. After glancing into bedrooms, she couldn’t even tell which room Griff slept in. Her suitcase still sat at the bottom of the stairs in the entryway.

Jolie turned the baby so he lay in the crook of her arm, and confided her anxiety at facing Griff Price with her questions. “Confrontation has never been my strong suit.”

She chanted her new mantra for him. “I live with courage. Catchy, isn’t it? For the next few weeks I’m going to take care of you, even if it means getting in your daddy’s face.”

Jolie discarded the idea Griff thought her so efficient she didn’t need any guidelines. She suspected he had simply not bothered to tell her.

Did he expect her to do other work besides caring for the baby? There was no evidence of an evening meal. In fact, there was little food in the refrigerator. Before discovering baby clothes in the dryer, she wondered what the little guy would wear tomorrow.

The baby’s head nodded against her arm, and she turned him and hoisted him up against her shoulder. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, his little body relaxed as he slid into sleep. She stroked his back and fell a little more in love with him.

The longer Griff Price took to come home, the madder she got.

She continued to rub the baby’s back. If she wasn’t desperate for a job and a place to stay, she would demand he take her back to town the minute he walked in the door.

As soon as she had the thought she realized she was kidding herself. She couldn’t leave until she straightened this man out about the way he was raising his son.

His cows seemed to mean more to him than his child.

Griff Price’s behavior was inexcusable.

The back door slammed, jerking her out of her thoughts. She looked up and spotted Griff coming through the door that led to the mudroom. He stopped at the kitchen sink, his broad back to her.

Jolie got up, holding the sleeping baby on her shoulder as she strode into the kitchen to give the man a piece of her mind.

He stood, his tall frame hunched over the sink, washing his hands. In the short time since she had met him she had forgotten what a big man he was.

He turned to look at her, surprise plain on his face. “Evening.”

Had he forgotten she was in the house? She cleared her throat and said in a low voice, “Actually, it’s past evening.”

He stared at her for a moment, then his glance slid briefly over his son, as if trying to place who they were. Finally he looked past her, over her shoulder.