“I’m Pixie Nolan.”
He knew that already because he’d seen a small black-and-white photo that hadn’t done her justice. “Nice to meet you.” When the baby gave a piercing cry, he said, “And this noisy bundle is Shayna Raye. If you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to her before she wakes up the entire town.”
Pixie stood there, illuminated by the moon and the golden glow of a porch light. Her nearness caused an unusual restriction in his chest that limited his airflow, as if he’d just taken a blast of artillery fire, feeling like that odd suspended moment in time before a man realized he’d been hit.
It was the anticipation, he decided.
So much hinged on building an association with her. It was what the baby deserved, what was expected, and yet it was something he’d never had.
Sucked that he knew almost nothing about blood families. All he knew was brotherhood. Hopefully, that would be enough.
Her brows came together in a puzzled frown. “You have a baby?”
A rhetorical question, obviously. “I’ve got my hands full here, so my attention is needed. I’ve got the hang of diaper changes, but not so much in the back of my SUV.”
She inched closer and peeked around him. “Oh, yes.” With a light laugh, she said, “I’ve been there, done that, so I understand. Here, let me help.” She moved to the other side of him and retrieved a diaper from the bag, effortlessly opening it. “I’ll hold the bottle if you want to handle the rest.”
Damn, but he could smell her, a light scent of flowers and sunshine and possibly baby powder. The restriction in his chest increased. “You think it’s too cool out here in the night air for me to swap out her clothes?”
“It’s a warm night, so she’d be fine, but would you rather change her inside?” She nodded at his shirt. “You’re already wet.”
“True enough.” As he spoke, Shayna decided to wail again. “It was a long drive and she’s getting fussy.”
“Long drives make me cranky, too,” she said, and then, “I didn’t realize you had a daughter. Cort only mentioned one person.”
“Is it a problem?”
“No, of course not.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Carefully, Brogan gathered up the baby, settling her against his chest and getting the bottle back in her mouth without her getting out a single additional wail. He felt triumphant.
“Good job,” Pixie praised as she folded the wet blanket he’d used, wrapped up the sopping diaper, and grabbed the diaper bag. “Come on. I’ll show you the house. You’ll love it.” As she led him to the front door, she said, “I lived here with my son until recently. Actually, I’d have been happy to stay here, but Andy is so active now, Cort insisted he needed more room. I’m in the guest cottage just up the street.” She tipped her head to the left. “Over that way is where Cort and Marlow live. You’ll like them. Everyone around here does.”
A dozen questions came to Brogan, but he tamped down his curiosity. If he got too nosy, he might offend her. “You like to fish?”
She stepped into the house and moved aside. “No, but Cort does. Marlow and I just enjoy the sunrises and sunsets.”
“Go boating or swimming?”
“Not much.” As if confiding a secret, she said, “There are things in the water. Big fish. Occasionally, a snake. Snapping turtles.”
He couldn’t hold back his grin. “Nothing that would hurt you.”
“Trust me, I’ve heard it all, but I still choose to stay out of the deeper water. My son and I sometimes sit in the shallow water at the sandy beach area, where he can play. I always put a life preserver on him, though of course I still can’t take my eyes off him.”
“Where’s your son now?” For many reasons, Brogan was interested in meeting the boy. Pixie didn’t know it, but it was because of her son that he was here.
“It’s close to his bedtime, so he’s with my friend Gloria.” Again confiding in him, she said, “When I came here a year ago, everyone welcomed me. Even better, they all fell in love with Andy. I’m never short of babysitters when I need one, though I don’t like to leave him very often.”
Was that a hint? “Guess I’m holding you up.” He should have realized. “If you want me to sign something, show some ID, we can take care of that real fast so you can get home.”
“No, it’s fine.” She smiled at Shayna. “Babies first, right?” Walking again, she said, “This is the sitting room; down that hall is the single bedroom and a bathroom. Everything you need is already there. Blankets, pillows, towels. Even soap and shampoo, though you probably have your own.”
He had a small overnight kit with a toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving gear, and soap. Toiletries were not, and never had been, his priority.
“I have the paperwork here in the kitchen.”
Everything about the place was miniature. Small rooms, small furniture, and a kitchen that was no more than a single row of cabinets over a sink and stove, with a narrow pantryand apartment-sized refrigerator. Good thing he was used to living lean.
