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He was almost as captivating as the baby, with his thick dark blond hair and calm-of-the-storm blue eyes. Maybe it was just the God-given shape of his lips, but a hint of a grin seemed to permanently tease the corner of his mouth. Either that, or life had let him in on some private joke.
“Huh?”
The grin stretched into a full-fledged smile, and even her beat-to-shit heart sighed a little at the sight. He stroked a big finger down the baby’s cheek. Thin light purple gloves covered his hands, which made it look kind of like an alien was touching her baby, but she knew the gloves protected against germs.
“How’re you doing, Madison? You need another blanket? Pillow? Anything?”
Despite the relaxed question, she sensed sharp scrutiny lurking in his deceptively laid-back stare. “I’m good.” At least she felt okay. Why was he asking? Maybe she wasn’t okay? She was in the back of an ambulance, after all, and now she noticed the sirens wailed. Was she the emergency? Or—her heart seized—the baby? She tried to raise herself higher in the bed and noticed the IV in her arm. Who had put that in? When? Why? “W-we are all right, right? The baby—”
“She’s doing great,” Hunter assured her and took her hand to prevent her from picking at the tape holding her IV in place. “You, too. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”
Even as he said the words, the baby crunched up her face, parted her dainty pink lips, and let out a hiccupping cry. “Oh, God, what’d I do?” She tightened her hold on the baby, but that only provoked another, louder cry. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes sought Hunter’s, and when she saw his unfazed expression, she practically screamed at him. “Take her. Do something!”
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Babies cry. It’s part of their charm.” He ran his fingertip down her cheek again. “A different position might help. If you’re warm enough to forego your blanket, want to try putting her chest-to-chest?”
Madison nearly burst into tears herself. “She’s uncomfortable?”
“She’s used to hearing your heartbeat. It’s worth a shot.”
“Um, okay.” This was doable. If she could just… She shifted the baby to h
er right arm while she tried to fold back the blanket covering her upper body, one-handed, but the IV made it extra awkward.
“Here.” Hunter reached over and took the fussy infant. He cradled her in one big hand and supported her head with the other. So deft and at ease. Would she ever handle her daughter as confidently? She’d been an only child, raised by her grandma. She’d spent her free time around old people, not babies. Her mommy training consisted of reading a bunch of pamphlets her obstetrician had given her, along with a coworker’s dog-eared copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. But now it suddenly occurred to her she had zero practical experience. She wasn’t at all qualified to take care of a baby. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing. The baby’s cries seemed to underscore the epiphany.
As soon as she worked the blanket down, another horrifying realization hit. Today she’d worn one of the two extra-large maternity dresses she’d gotten at a resale shop, and it was basically a giant, button-front tent. But somewhere between the birth and the post-birth vital sign checks she’d undergone, the buttons had come undone. Her dress hung open baring an old, white bra that didn’t do much to hide her pregnancy-swollen breasts.
She started re-buttoning her dress.
The baby’s impatient cry had her abandoning the task. Hell, Madison, he took the front row seat while you pushed a baby and everything that came with her out into his waiting hands. He’s seen it all. She held out her arms, but he ignored them, positioned her daughter against her, and turned the little head so her ear rested against the cushion of Madison’s left breast. To her amazement, the crying stopped, mid-sob.
Silence. A miniature hand came up to rest on the swell of her breast, and delicate eyelids lowered to blissful slits.
“You were right,” she whispered. Though she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her resting daughter, she offered him a smile she hoped conveyed her eternal gratitude.
His lazy laugh ruffled the hair at her temple. “I have my moments.”
He had the most reassuring voice. Low, calm, with an underlying note of amusement, like nothing could get too serious as long as he was around. That voice, combined with the weight of her warm, vital baby against her heart, wrapped her in a cocoon of wellbeing she hadn’t experienced in…ever. Certainly not in the year since Grandma had died. She relaxed against the elevated back of the gurney and let her eyelids droop. “I’ve been a little short on moments lately.”
“You had a pretty big one today.” He ran a hand over the baby’s head, and the edge of his finger brushed the side of her breast. She wasn’t even sure he felt it through the glove, but then he cleared his throat and said a quiet, “Sorry.”
Her self-consciousness returned in full force. She shoved her fingers into her hair and immediately wished she hadn’t. For the most part, pregnancy had been kind to her long dark waves, but delivery had turned them into a sweaty nest of tangles. “Don’t worry about it.” She dropped her hand. “Sorry I’m such a mess.”
He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “You’re not. You’re brave, and strong.” The siren cut off as the ambulance pulled to a stop. “Funny,” he added and then ran a finger down her cheek, just as he’d done to the baby. “This little girl here is gonna hope she grows up to be just like her mama.”
Before she could think of a thing to say in response, he turned away and peeled the gloves off. Then he unwrapped another small blue blanket and draped it over her chest. Beneath, the baby snuggled closer.
“You good to go?”
“What?”
The double doors of the ambulance swung open, and Beau stood on the other side. “How’re our passengers, partner?”
“Ready to roll.”
“Okay. We’re rolling.” Beau released some latch at the foot of the stretcher, and then the whole thing seemed to levitate for a moment while they performed well-practiced maneuvers to convey the gurney from the ambulance to the sidewalk without jostling her or the baby in the slightest. An instant later Beau pulled the bed through automatic doors with the words Emergency Room stenciled across the glass. She hugged her daughter and craned her neck in every direction, trying to find Hunter. A hand squeezed her shoulder. She let out a breath. He’d simply hung back to close the ambulance doors.
A woman in dark blue scrubs approached the gurney and directed them to a beige room with a whole lot of equipment and two empty beds. They wheeled her in. Her world spun as they turned the gurney to align with the nearest bed, and the antiseptic hospital smell hit her in the face. Her stomach rolled. That smell—indelibly associated with her grandma but not in a good way. In another series of choreographed moves, they transferred her, blankets, baby, and all, to the waiting bed.
