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Sophie squirmed within the tight confines of a soft, thick blanket, her cries frantic now. Dax bent low, scooped the bundle into his large hands and lifted her against his naked chest. She was a feather, a dandelion puff, so light and fragile.
As he started out of the nursery toward the kitchen and the supply of formula he’d seen in the refrigerator, the tile was cold against his bare feet. The cooled atmosphere of the house sent prickles over his flesh. He came fully awake.
His heart slammed against his rib cage. This baby creating a single spot of warmth on his chest was not Gavin. This was Sophie, not his child. She was not his responsibility.
The infant whimpered, her head turning this way and that in search of food.
Jenna must be dead tired not to have heard the baby cry. But what did he expect? He’d worked her like a field hand from the very first day, expecting her to clean house, care for Gavin, do the shopping, cook his meals, clean the kitchen and still have the energy to get up at two o’clock with a newborn.
He’d even sent her to town for groceries that second day. She’d come back all rosy and chattery, talking about how much fun she’d had—in the grocery store no less. Picking out cantaloupe and watermelon and showing off Sophie to everyone in the place. He remembered how that worked. Carrying a baby into the grocery store in Saddleback was the same as throwing a party with free food. Everyone came running. He smiled at the memory.
Jenna had reacted to the trip with unbridled enthusiasm, as if she’d never shopped for groceries in her life. She was the same way about everything, come to think of it.
The ranch house was starting to respond to her enthusiasm.
But the truth was Jenna had been at the Southpaw for nearly a week now without a break, working hard enough to drive her into exhaustion.
He was an inconsiderate jerk.
Working in the semidark kitchen, he heated the baby bottle with one hand while holding Sophie securely with the other as he’d done dozens of times with Gavin. “Let your mama sleep, Sophie girl. Uncle Dax will fix you right up.”
Okay, so he wasn’t her uncle, but he felt like one. He’d been with her from the get-go. Not that he dared let himself get too close. No use getting in an emotional tangle about a baby destined to move on. A woman like Jenna wouldn’t be here long. Once on her feet, she’d find a better job. She’d move on to a city somewhere with people of her education and breeding. Even a fool like him recognized quality and class when he saw it. Reba had no class at all, and even she hadn’t stayed—which told him a lot about his shortcomings.
Sophie squirmed and let out a howl. Dax grunted away the useless, self-despising thoughts. He wouldn’t let himself get attached, but right now, only a heartless jerk could ignore the cries of a hungry infant.
The microwave beeped. Dax took the bottle, shook a drop onto his wrist, then slid the warm nipple into the seeking, rosebud mouth. The crying stopped instantly to be replaced by the small, humming sounds an infant makes at feeding time. He’d always liked that sound. Relieved. Contented.
Padding barefoot back to the nursery, he thought about snapping on the lamp but decided against it. No use disturbing Jenna. He moved to close the door between the nursery and the bedroom beyond. As he did, he caught a glimpse of Jenna in the moonlight, curled on her side, sleeping like a rock. Her hair was down, spread across the pillow in spiky shadows. He could hear the soft hush of her breathing.
She didn’t even stir.
He’d looked in this room many times before when Gavin was tiny and always found it empty. There was something renewing, redeeming even, to have a mother there now, steps away from her child. It eased the tight hard knot in his soul the tiniest bit.
He feasted on the feeling for several seconds, experiencing a connection with Jenna Garwood that he couldn’t explain or fully comprehend.
Then, quietly, he shut the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JENNA AWOKE WITH A JERK and sat straight up in bed. Daylight streamed through the window. From down the hall came the sounds of people moving around and the undecipherable rumble of conversation. She’d overslept.
Leaping from the bed, she rushed into the nursery. Sophie was gone, her covers tossed aside. The changing table was in disarray. Had she been crying? Had Dax, annoyed by the noise, been forced to tend his employee’s child?
Heart thudding, she quickly dressed and headed for the kitchen. Heretofore, she’d risen at six to have breakfast on the table before Gavin’s school bus rumbled to a stop at seven.
Things had been going so well up until now, but her mother regularly fired employees for tardiness. Would Dax do the same?
She rushed into the kitchen only to be drawn up short. Dax, barefoot and shirt front unbuttoned, stood over the stove turning bacon with a long fork. Gavin sat at the table dressed for school, hair combed, his face washed and shiny. And Sophie lay in her carrier in front of the little boy. Gavin gently tweaked her onesie-clad toes and shook a rattle above her face. Her eyes, still unable to fully focus, crossed from the effort.
