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A mulish expression settled over her features. “Do you even have a place you can care for her? Where are you living while your ranch house is being rebuilt?”
“A hunting cabin.”
“A cabin?” Lark crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think so. A preemie’s lungs are delicate. She needs to be in a clean, warm environment free from drafts and damp.”
“My parents are staying with friends in Pine Valley. I could bring her there on the days you work.” He made the suggestion knowing it would never fly.
“That would be a terrible imposition on your parents’ friends.”
“Then I’ll watch her at your house.”
Lark’s eyes widened. Her mouth popped open, but she must have recognized the determination on his face, because whatever refusal she’d been about to utter didn’t come. Her facial muscles shifted into unhappy lines.
“I don’t really think...” she began before turning toward the door to the NICU. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to take care of a baby?”
“Some.”
Giving him a doubtful frown, Lark motioned for him to follow her. Her stiff posture demonstrated she wasn’t happy with his determination to be involved with Grace. Too bad. As her uncle, he had as much right to be with the infant as Lark.
In silence they walked down the row of incubators to the crib that held Grace. The anxious burn in Keaton’s chest whenever he visited his niece had faded. Born ten weeks premature at two pounds, two ounces, the baby girl had gained almost three pounds since then and was now free of all sensors, IVs, pressurized oxygen and the feeding tube.
Acting as if Keaton had ceased to exist for her, Lark carefully picked up Grace and settled her into the crook of her left arm. “Hello, beautiful. How are you doing today?”
“She’s doing great,” said Ginger. The nurse on duty was a plump woman in her midforties with keen brown eyes and an engaging smile. “Ready to go home in a few days.”
“I’m really excited about that,” Lark said, adjusting Grace’s pink hat embroidered with the word Miracle.
“Are you ready?”
“I have tomorrow off. I’m going to go shopping for everything.”
“We’re going shopping,” Keaton corrected her, drawing Ginger’s gaze. “Grace is my niece, as well. I’m going to be involved with taking care of her.”
Ginger’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful. Grace is going to need a lot more care than the average baby. I’m glad you’re going to be helping Lark out.” The NICU nurse gave his arm a pat as she moved off to check on another infant.
“It’s premature to talk about your involvement,” Lark muttered as soon as the other nurse was out of earshot. “Grace’s paternity has not yet been determined.”
“Today or tomorrow we’ll have the results and you’ll see she’s my niece as much as yours.” Seeing the way Lark’s mouth tightened, Keaton continued. “I intend to share the responsibility.”
“A lot of men wouldn’t want the responsibility of a preemie.”
“I know Jake would expect me to take care of his daughter.”
He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. Lark had always struck him as the ultimate wallflower. Quiet and reserved, she watched more than participated. Why had he noticed her at all? Probably because he had similar tendencies. He kept to himself, enjoying the solitude of his cabin beside the small five-acre lake after a hectic day spent managing the ranch.
Her preoccupation with the baby gave him a chance to study her at length. Dressed in pale green scrubs, her wavy blond hair cut in a short bob, she gave off an ignore me vibe. She might have gone unnoticed if she wasn’t so tall. At five feet ten inches, she would have made a great basketball or volleyball player, but she’d been more of a bookworm than an athlete. She and Jake had been classmates, but despite the fact that he’d been secretly dating her sister all through high school, Lark had never been part of the same crowd.
Three years older than Lark, the single year they’d attended the same in high school, Keaton hadn’t had any contact with her, but she’d been extremely intelligent and that intrigued him. With a perfect score on her ACTs and could have had her pick of colleges if she’d wanted to venture out of Texas.
“Can you hold Grace for a second?”
Keaton blinked himself out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?”
“Can you hold Grace?”
“Why?”
Lark’s long lashes fluttered upward as she glanced at him in confusion. “Because she needs to be changed and I need to go get some wipes. This is out.” She pointed to a box on a nearby shelf.
Keaton stared down at Grace with his hands at his sides. She was so tiny. And he was a big guy more accustomed to wrestling with querulous calves than handling fragile things like a five-pound baby.
Lark stood and held Grace out to him with an impatient “here.”
Alarm flashed through him. Keaton took an involuntary step backward. Still staring at Grace’s precious face with its soft, perfect skin, he clasped his hands behind his back, feeling the rough scrape of calluses. It wouldn’t be right to touch her delicate skin with anything so abrasive.
“Keaton?” Lark’s tone had softened. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s really small.” He paused. “And...”
“You’re afraid to hold her.”
“No.”
“How do you expect to help me take care of her when you aren’t comfortable enough to hold her?”
He let a breath hiss out from between his clenched teeth before replying, “I’m going to be fine. I just need a little time to get used to her.”
“No time like the present.” Lark moved into his space, her manner determined. “Give me your left arm.”
He resisted her imperious tone for only as long as it took her to lift her gaze to his. She had the greenest eyes, like spring grass after a week of rain. How had he never noticed how beautiful they were? She raised her eyebrows at him. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to change her mind, Keaton let his arm swing forward.
She took ahold of his wrist and placed his arm against his abdomen. Her fingers were warm and light against his skin. His heart shifted off its rhythm.
“You need to support her head.”
Her shoulder bumped against his chest as she placed the delicate bundle in his arms. The top of her head swept beneath his nose, offering him a whiff of whatever shampoo she used. It reminded him of summertime and his mom’s strawberry shortcake. His mouth watered.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” But his protest came too late. Grace lay along his forearm, her tiny body swaddled from chin to toes. The baby couldn’t move, much less roll off his arm, but Keaton rested his right palm lightly on top of her.
“You doing okay?” Lark’s soft lips wore a slight smile as she watched him cradle Grace.
“Fine.” As long as she didn’t fuss or move, he’d be great.
“I’ll understand if you tell me you can’t do this,” Lark said. “Taking care of a baby is hard work.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work.” Keaton suspected she wanted him to back out. That was the last thing he was going to do. “I can do this. I just have to get used to how small she is.”
“You do have rather large hands.” Lark touched Grace’s cheek with a fingertip. Her hand grazed his, making his skin tingle. “They make her look smaller than she is. But she’s stronger than you might think.”
He had a hard time believing that. Grace picked that second to yawn hugely and open her eyes. Her gaze latched on to his face, the expression wide and startled. Keaton stared back, mesmerized, until her eyes shut again. It wasn’t until that happened that he realized his heart was thudding erratically.
Expecting Lark to laugh at his inexperience, he was surprised to find that she’d moved off several feet. Panic flared for a second. He noticed that Lark was watching him, gauging how he handled the situation. He was far out of his comfort zone. Relax, he told himself. He had to appear comfortable being alone with his niece if he was going to convince Lark that he could take care of the delicate infant.
He shifted Grace a little, learning the feel of her. Once again the baby opened her eyes. This time she let out a strange little grunt. Keaton didn’t know if that was normal or not. He needed to do some research on preemies. A little knowledge would go a long way toward making him feel more confident.
“You really don’t need to do this,” Lark said, coming up alongside him once more.
“Yes, I do.” He shoved aside any lingering doubts about his ability to take care of such a tiny baby. “She grunts.”
“I noticed that. Might have something to do with her acid reflux issues. A lot of preemies suffer from it. Luckily Grace isn’t too bad.”
Another thing for him to worry about. Damn Jake. Where the hell was his brother? Skye and Grace were his responsibility. Keaton stared down at the sleeping baby. Jake’s unavailability disturbed him. It wasn’t like his brother to go off the grid. Something bad must have happened, but Keaton didn’t have a clue where to start looking.
“Here, let me take her.” Lark had stepped into his space once more.
Keaton liked how his body reacted to her nearness. Since Skye’s accident and Grace’s birth, he’d been at the hospital at least a couple times a week to check on them. He’d had plenty of time to notice Lark and indulge his curiosity about her.
“I’ve got her.”
“But she needs to be changed.” She gave him an assessing look. “Have you ever changed a baby before?”
“No. And before you say anything, let me point out that I intend to learn everything there is about taking care of a baby before you have to go back to work.”
“Everything?” She looked doubtful.
“Everything.”
“Why do I believe you?”
“Because like you, I graduated at the top of my class?”
Her lack of surprise at his declaration told Keaton that she’d known this about him. Logic told him her confidence in him would grow if she understood he brought intelligence as well as determination to the table.
“I suppose just about everything can be found on the internet these days,” she agreed.
“So, are you going to walk me through changing her?” Keaton ignored the voice inside his head warning him how tiny and fragile Grace was. If he let any nervousness show, he’d never convince Lark to let him help.
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want.”
Two
The ranch house where Lark and Skye had grown up was a sprawling single-story structure with a cathedral ceiling over the enormous, open great room. Lark’s father was an avid hunter, and the walls between the windows and ceiling were covered with trophies of white-tailed deer and bobwhite quail.
Above the dining table hung a chandelier made of antlers. A second one hung above the living room seating area composed of a brown leather couch and love seat. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Set into a sixteen-by-fourteen foot wall and surrounded by large river rock, it took up a corner of the room. As usual the television was on. Lark could tell her father wasn’t home because it wasn’t tuned to a sports program. Instead her mother had on the shopping channel.
Lark’s rubber-soled shoes made no sound on the tile as she went across the room, shrugged out of her wool coat and draped it over one of the dining chairs. Her mother was in the open kitchen. Lark tried to gauge her mother’s mood as she drew near.
“Oh, Lark. Must you wear those scrubs? They do nothing for your figure. And you really should do something about those dark circles under your eyes. They’re not attractive.”
Having just come from a double shift at the hospital because Marsha had called in sick again, Lark couldn’t summon the energy to explain why she looked so tired. “Is that a new lipstick?” she asked. It made her mother happy to talk about herself, and Lark needed her in a good mood.
Vera Taylor smiled, obviously pleased that her daughter had noticed. “Passion’s Promise.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a tube. “It might be a good shade for you. Come closer and let me see.”
Fighting down impatience, Lark let her mother apply the vivid red, knowing it would look ridiculous on her. She rarely wore make-up at all, much less something as eye-catching as ruby lipstick.
“And a little concealer.” Her daughter’s docility had prompted Vera to pull a bag of make-up out of her purse. It was a rare mother-daughter bonding moment. Skye had been the pretty one, the one Vera could relate to. “Some color in your cheeks.”
Vera stepped back and regarded her daughter with something akin to satisfaction. Lark’s chest constricted. No matter how much she loved her mother, Lark had never been completely sure her mother felt the same way about her. Vera’s childhood in San Antonio had been composed of a string of beauty pageants starting when she was one. She’d grown up praised for her beauty and style. Lark was sure it had broken her heart to give birth to a child of average prettiness and no interest in fashion.
Her mother must have thanked heaven when Skye came along. Beautiful and personable, with an abundance of talent. A mini Vera. A doll for her to dress and mold into the perfect pageant princess.
“See, that took me no more than a minute and a half and you look so much better. Imagine what would happen if we did a little mascara and eye shadow. You really should take more care with your appearance. What will people think?”
Considering that her patients in the ICU were unconscious and their family members too distressed to notice anything but their loved ones, Lark doubted that it mattered what she looked like. “I’ll make more of an effort.”
Knowing it would make her mother happy, Lark went into the small bathroom off the entry and checked her appearance. To her amazement, her mother was right. The little bit of makeup had transformed her. She was pretty. Not beautiful like Skye or their mother, but maybe attractive enough to make Keaton give her a second look?
The instant the thought entered her head, Lark banished it. Depending on how her mother responded to Lark’s request to babysit Grace, she might just be stuck dealing with Keaton on a much more regular basis. If that happened, the last thing she needed was to start wondering if she appealed to him.
First of all, there was the hundred and some years of fighting between their families.
Then there was the little problem of whether or not she could trust him. Skye had put her faith in Jake and look what had happened. He’d vanished when she needed him most.
Last, but certainly not least, Keaton’s brusque manner and ruggedness were a little overwhelming. Granted, he’d handled Grace with an acceptable amount of gentleness, but he’d obviously been on his best behavior. Would he be as careful with her?
And would she want him to be?
Swept away by the thought of his large hands skimming over her body, pulling her tight against him as his mouth claimed hers in a vigorous kiss, Lark shuddered in delight. Her skin warmed as the fantasy heated her blood. She could almost feel the scrape of his rough chin against her neck. Desire lanced through her like an electric shock, leaving her knees oddly unsteady.
“Mom,” she called, emerging from the bathroom. “I have a favor to ask you.”
Vera frowned. “I’m not sure this is a good time. Your father is very distressed about the loss of the tree farm and the damage done to the irrigation pipes.”
Lark recognized this tactic. Her mother was always using Tyrone as an excuse to avoid doing things she deemed too great a burden. Ignoring her mother’s broad hint, Lark muscled on.
“Grace gets to leave the hospital in a couple days.”
“So soon?”
“It’s been three months.”
And as far as Lark knew, Vera had only stopped by once. Lark thought about Keaton’s mom, visiting both a child she didn’t fully believe was her granddaughter and the woman who’d been instrumental in taking her son away. Gloria had just as much reason to take her anger out on Skye and the baby, but she’d chosen a path of forgiveness instead.
“Things have been so bad around here, I haven’t noticed how much time has passed.”
“I was wondering if you could help me out with her.”
“I don’t know how I can find the time. There’s so much to do here.”
Lark braced herself to beg. Her parents had always made it hard for her to ask for anything. “Please, Mom. Can’t you help me out until Skye gets better?”
“Are you sure you’re the best one to be taking care of your sister’s baby, Lark?”
“If not me, who else?”
“There’s the father.” Vera arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Has he shown up yet?”
“If you mean Jake...” She didn’t dare defend a Holt to her mother. “I don’t know where he is. His brother hasn’t had any luck locating him.”
“Does that surprise you? None of those people can be trusted.”
“Grace is a Taylor, Mom.” Lark wasn’t comfortable misleading her mother, but she hoped that maybe Vera would be more inclined to help if the conflict with the Holts wasn’t part of the equation. “None of us had heard from Skye in four years. We don’t even know if she and Jake were still together.”
Vera considered this and for a brief second, Lark thought her mother might have forgiven how badly Skye hurt them when she’d run off with a Holt. But then Vera shook her head.
“I heard that brother of his is doing a DNA test. We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
“Grace is so beautiful, Mom,” Lark said, hoping if she appealed to what her mother valued most that Vera might be persuaded to put aside her hurt and embrace her granddaughter. “She looks exactly like Skye.” Which wasn’t completely true, but hopefully Vera would be so thrilled to have a mini Skye to smother with love that she wouldn’t notice the Holt eyes and bone structure.
“I’m sure she’s quite lovely.” Vera could have been speaking of a stranger’s child for all the warmth she showed. “I can see that you are quiet passionate about taking on the responsibility of your sister’s baby. I just don’t think you realize how challenging it will be with you working full-time. A normal baby is exhausting and she’s bound to have special needs. I’ll speak with your father about helping you out with the child care costs.”
And Lark knew her last hope was gone. Her mother wasn’t ready to forgive Skye for turning her back on her family and would resist warming up to Grace.
“I don’t want a stranger taking care of her,” she told her mother, letting her disappointment show. It was looking pretty certain that her options had dwindled to Keaton.
“She’s had strangers taking care of her for the last three months,” Vera retorted a touch impatiently. “I don’t see the difference.”
The difference was Grace had needed medical attention and the nurses in the NICU were experts in the care of preemies. “I appreciate your offer of financial help, but I really think we owe it to Skye to do the best we can for Grace, and that means having her family take care of her.”
A layer of frost coated Vera’s features at Lark’s mild reproof. Almost immediately she wished she could take back her criticism. No purpose would be served by alienating her mother, but along with regret, Lark noticed a tiny buzz of triumph for having stood up to her mother.
Unfortunately, Lark’s confidence quickly faded as the reality of her situation engulfed her, and she drove home in such a state of disappointment that she didn’t remember Keaton had invited himself on her shopping trip for the baby until she noticed the four-door pickup parked in front of her house.
The clock on her dashboard said quarter after two. She was fifteen minutes late. Lark settled her car in the garage and headed down the driveway to meet up with Keaton.
“I forgot we were getting together today.”
“You look different.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed her.
When his gaze settled on her lips, Lark remembered the makeup her mother had applied. “I went to ask my mother for help with Grace. She thought I looked tired so she put makeup on me.”
“You look very nice.”
“Thank you.”
Nice wasn’t beautiful, but it was better than tired and drawn. And there was something new about the way he stared at her. Something intense and interested that made her pay attention to the flutters in her stomach and the slow heat building in her core.
“Are you heading back to work?” He indicated her scrubs.
Lark shook her head. The slight breeze cooled her skin. “One of my coworkers called in sick and we’re shorthanded as it is. I pulled a double shift.” A sharp wind cut off any further explanation she might have made. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I picked up a few things this morning. I’ll go get them.”
“You did?” Lark wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or dismayed. He was really determined to take care of Grace.
From the backseat of the pickup he unloaded two enormous bags printed with the logo of the local baby store. Lark hastened to open her front door so he could carry his bundles inside.
“What is all this?”
“Bedding, clothes.” Keaton followed Lark into her living room and deposited everything on her couch. He glanced around. “I know you said you hadn’t bought a crib yet. I thought that was something we could do together.”
Curiosity drove her to investigate what he’d chosen. Rather than an ultra-feminine pastel-pink ensemble, he’d chosen pale yellow sheets, bumper, dust ruffle and comforter with fun jungle animals. Lark spied pajamas, bodysuits and pants, tiny socks, bibs and a towel.
“You look surprised,” Keaton said.
“I am. You did a great job. How did you know what to buy?”
“I went online and found a list for what to have on hand when bringing home a baby.”
“She’ll need some diapers. I can get those later today.”
“I already contacted a diaper service.”
“I figured we would just use disposables.”
“Cloth is better for the environment.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with keeping dirty diapers around until they could be picked up.” And the unpleasantness that went along with doing that.
“The person I spoke with said they have a hamper that keeps the smell contained.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your research.”
“I always do.”
Lark was surprised at the resentment brewing in her gut. Why was she annoyed with Keaton for being helpful? After she’d worked back-to-back shifts, she should be relieved that some of the preparations for Grace’s homecoming were done. So what if she wasn’t the smartest person in the room?
Thinking of her double shift reminded Lark just how tired she was. Before she could contain it, an enormous yawn broke free.
“Sorry.”
“You’re tired.”
“Back-to-back shifts are brutal.”
“I can take care of the shopping and get the crib. I’m sure you have a list of everything you still need to do before Grace leaves the hospital.”
While she realized he was only trying to lend a hand, Lark rebelled at the thought of him taking over the preparations. Grace was her responsibility. If she was too tired to shop for her, how was she going to cope once her niece came home?
“No.” Lark gave her head a vehement shake. “I want to pick out the crib and finish up the shopping. It won’t take long. And you’re right. I have a list of what I need.”
She should be annoyed that he’d presumed things about her habits when he knew nothing about her, but she found herself flattered by his accurate read. Few people noticed her much less paid attention to her practices.
A glow bloomed in her chest, banishing her tiredness. She recognized Keaton as the source of her abrupt sense of well-being. His proximity had a disturbing effect on her world. Long ago she’d learned that asking for help was likely to end up in a rebuff. So she’d grown used to muddling along without anyone noticing she needed help much less offering to pitch in. Now she had Keaton insisting on lightening her load and was more than a little afraid to trust what he was offering.