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Even as the thought formed, her breath hitched and her muscles clenched.
Beau told her to breathe and push. She grabbed her knees and gave a long, low groan that ended in a scream. “Oh God, I’m going to die.”
Hunter looked her in the eye. “Nobody’s going to die, Madison. I’m not going to let that happen. I promise. I can see her head.”
She leaned against Beau, but her muscles continued to fire with small, involuntary tremors. “Say hello for me,” she muttered. Her head lolled and her eyelids fluttered.
Beau sent him a worried look. Fuck, they were close, but not close enough.
“Madison.” Hunter called her name sharply and then dug up a smile for her when she opened her eyes and leveled them on him. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Listen up. This next time, when the contraction comes, I want you to push as long as you can.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached into the kit and grabbed a couple of towels and a bulb syringe. “Not hard, but long. Got it?” He placed the supplies on the drape and got ready to move fast.
The next powerful spasm gripped her. She leaned forward and put her whole body into the push.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”
He repeated the prayer in his mind as a little head slid into his palm. “That’s my girl. You’re doing great.” Oh shit, the cord. “Okay, stop. Stop.”
She immediately stopped bearing down, but her heavy breaths and the whimper on each exhale told him what it cost her. He quickly slid a finger under the cord, and carefully slipped it over the baby’s head.
“Sweetheart, you’re almost done. One last push… There you go… A little more.” Neck, shoulder, perfect, perfect, perfect. He hitched his fingers into the armpit and guided the baby out. A girl, just like her mama said. She looked good. He saw her chest expand, so priority went to getting her dry and warm. Once he had her bundled up in a clean towel, he suctioned the airways as a precaution.
“Is she all right? Is she breathing?”
As if responding to her mom’s question, the baby cried out—strong enough to announce she wasn’t having any trouble drawing in air. “Aw. Is that any way to say thank you? Want to go to your mama?” He placed the baby into Madison’s outstretched arms and then handed Beau a cap, a couple towels, and a stethoscope.
He turned his attention to Madison but kept an ear out as Beau told her all about her baby’s strong, steady heartbeat and respiration, and then collected some medical history. Madison Foley, twenty-two years old, which surprised him because he’d pegged her as younger. First pregnancy, which didn’t surprise him in the least. No allergies, no known health concerns.
The highway patrol officers fetched the gurney and retrieved Madison’s purse from the front of the Outback. In preparation for the short trip to the ambulance, Beau put the little knit cap on the bundled-up baby’s head and then held her while Hunter wrapped Madison in a blanket and lifted her onto the cot. With his arms locked around her he could feel her post-delivery shakes, and he made a mental note to put another blanket on her once they got her into the rig. As soon as he buckled her up, Beau settled the baby in her arms. Hunter took the head end of the gurney and expected to more or less disappear off her radar now, but she surprised him by angling her head until their eyes met.
“Thank you.”
“For what, sweetheart?” He kept his smile easy, hoping to earn one from her. “You did all the hard work.”
No smile. Instead she looked at him with those big blue eyes. “Back in the car, when you promised we’d be okay, how did you know?”
Beau glanced back at him from the foot of the gurney, his dark brows raised as if to say, Yeah, how did you know? Hunter shrugged. “Gotta have faith in happy endings. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Chapter Two
Happy endings? If anyone had asked her to put her faith in happy endings an hour ago, Madison would have laughed her ass off. The last time she’d let herself believe in happily ever after, she’d packed her Outback and the little bit of money her grandma had left her, and followed the empty promises of a sweet-tongued, soulful-eyed Alex Pettyfer look-alike all the way from her speck-on-the-map hometown of Shallow Pond, Alabama to glamorous, fast-paced Atlanta.
Cody Winslow turned out to be a gambling addict with a blossoming drug habit, which made happily ever after a real long shot, but, of course, the problems hadn’t become apparent until later, after he’d begged, borrowed, and stolen his way through her small inheritance, as well as any little bit of extra cash she managed to bring home from her job at the local link of a popular coffee shop chain. It had almost been a relief to tell Cody about the pregnancy and watch him run for the door.
Unfortunately he boomeranged back every time he got himself in over his head with one of his bookies. She’d given him money a couple times, because he’d sounded scared and desperate, and, honestly, she’d wanted to get rid of him rather than find out exactly how desperate he’d become. This last time, however, when he’d stood on her doorstep all hard-eyed and twitchy, and hit her up for—ha—“a loan,” she’d refused to give him a dime. He was spiraling down at a frightening rate, her limited resources wouldn’t save him, and a temporary bailout meant delaying purchases for the baby. No way. She’d spent a whole day basking in the pride of her resolve, until she’d climbed the stairs to her apartment to find her door hanging open, the cheap lock busted.
Instead of coming home to the car seat, baby bath, and Pack ‘n Play she’d plunked down her hard earned cash for, as well as an adorable little wardrobe of baby clothes the crew at work had given her during a surprise baby shower, she’d come home to…nothing. He’d stolen all of it, including the three hundred bucks stashed in her sock drawer.
She’d called the cops. They’d come out, taken a report, and questioned a few neighbors, but nobody in the complex admitted to seeing anything. Nobody wanted to get involved in her drama. The bottom line was the police couldn’t put a 24/7 watch on her apartment to keep Cody out, nor would the next dinky lock the landlord installed do the job. The solution, she’d decided after a hard look at her situation, was to take herself out of the apartment. Moving stretched her thin finances past their limit, but with a little luck, she could make it work.
Her manager at work facilitated her transfer to a new shop across town. She’d packed her meager belongings into the trunk of her Outback, emptied her bank account, and turned her apartment key over to the landlord, knowing full well she was sacrificing her last month’s rent and probably her security deposit. Heck, she might have even been harboring a small hope of a happy ending when she’d steered her car onto the I-75 on New Year’s Eve day to look for a cheap hotel near her new job to call home for the next couple weeks. Get another paycheck under her belt and then rent an apartment just in time for the baby to arrive.
Instead she’d been rear-ended by a short-tempered guy in a minivan when the first contraction had struck with enough ferocity to make her slam on her brakes. Then she’d gone into full-blown labor and had her baby in the back seat of her piece-of-shit Outback. Fitting, considering that’s probably where her daughter had been conceived.
Yeah, life had been a little short on happy endings just lately, but as she stared at the baby in her arms, she felt a little flame of hope flicker in her chest.
A low voice spoke to her from what sounded like a million miles away, and she had a hard time pulling her attention from her newborn—all soft and round, with ten flawless little fingers and deep, old-soul eyes fringed with beautiful, spun-silk eyelashes. How could stupid, messed up Madison Foley have played any part in producing something so—she stared at the baby and searched for the word—so perfect?
The low voice interrupted again, and Madison looked up to discover Hunter staring at her.
