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Chapter Four
Hannah could not believe the perfect package Emma and Ted had brought back to the ranch. Her eyes filled with tears as she took the tiny pink bundle from one of her best friends. “Oh,” came out of her mouth, and she couldn’t look away from the tiny face.
The baby had her eyes squished closed, and she was all pink skin and dark, dark hair. “So much hair,” she said, smiling as she balanced the newborn in one arm and lifted her other hand to feel the silky hair.
She looked up at Emma, who wore an identical look of adoration to her husband.
“She has hair everywhere,” Ted said with a grin. “That’s my fault.” But he didn’t sound upset by it.
“She’s a little like a kitten,” Emma admitted. She couldn’t stop smiling either, and Hannah sank onto the couch with little Frannie cuddled right into her chest.
A sense of contentment settled over her, and she wanted a baby of her own so very much. She wanted a life where she could hold a baby all day and do nothing else. She knew that wasn’t entirely reasonable, or entirely something she’d really do. But Frannie smelled like powder and fresh air, and right now, Hannah just wanted to hold her while they both slept.
Having a herd of naughty goats who couldn’t seem to behave themselves didn’t help her current mood, and she sighed as she let her eyes drift closed.
“There’s something boiling over over here,” Nate said from the kitchen, and Hannah’s eyes shot open.
“Shoot.” She stood up, refusing to relinquish Frannie back to her mother, and bustled into the kitchen. The West Wing boasted a massive kitchen and dining room, and Hannah’s breath came quick by the time she reached the pot of pasta she’d put on the stove.
Nate stirred it with the wooden spoon she’d left behind, and she flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks.” She took the spoon from him, easily swishing it through the water with the baby in her arms.
Nate gazed down at the baby, and Hannah made a quick decision. “Would you?” She passed him the baby before he could protest, though alarm registered in his eyes.
“I can’t—”
“You’re going to be a dad in little more than a month,” Hannah said. Nate met her gaze, and when he looked back at baby Frannie, he wore a brand new softness in his eyes and around his mouth.
“See?” she said, turning her attention back to the pot. She drove the spoon down to the bottom of it to make sure she got any stuck pasta off and smiled. “You’re a natural already.”
The baby grunted and snuggled right into Nate’s chest, and Hannah swore she heard him sigh in contentment. Whether he did or not, Hannah knew he’d be a very good father, because she’d seen the love and attention he gave to his brother’s son.
Nate had had Connor for a few years now, and everyone on the ranch loved the little boy, but no one more than Nate. Hannah had no idea what it would be like to lose a sibling, as she had two older sisters she couldn’t get to stop calling and texting her.
Did she want to go to lunch on Wednesday?
Could she watch Maisey and Diane for a few hours on Saturday?
Why couldn’t she come on Sunday for dinner?
Honestly, no one could understand why she didn’t want to drive forty-five minutes to be assaulted with questions about who she was dating, when she’d get married, or why she’d broken up with the last guy she’d been with.
She’d stopped texting her sisters the moment a new man asked her out, and she’d stopped telling Mama about them right from the beginning. Now, Hannah waited at least three months before even mentioning she’d started seeing someone new.
She hadn’t mentioned Chuck at all, and they’d been dating for three and a half months. She probably should, because Chuck treated her like a queen, and telling her family about him would open doors Hannah had kept closed.
Purposefully closed.
She frowned as the image of the handsome cowboy who’d come to the ranch last year blitzed through her mind. Luke Holt.
She hadn’t told her family about Chuck, because she still hoped Luke would come back to the ranch.
Ridiculous, she thought. It had been months since he’d left, and while she’d seen him over the New Year holiday, they didn’t speak often.Hardly everwould be a more accurate description of their level of conversation.
Hannah hadn’t been able to drive him from her mind, though, and she could admit she hadn’t even tried.
She brought the spoon up and separated one noodle from the others to test how done it was. She’d dumped the pasta in the boiling water only moments before Emma and Ted had walked through the front door at the West Wing, and she’d forgotten to set a timer.
The rigatoni barely had any bite left, and she quickly turned off the flame and lifted the pot off the burner. She hadn’t gotten out the colander yet, and she cursed herself for getting distracted. At the same time, a baby was a worthy distraction, and she set the pot in the sink and turned to get the colander out of the cupboard.
