Because of the Baby.... Cat Schield
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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.
Dropping her gaze to the floor, she said, “I’ll be okay on my own.”
* * *
Stubborn, Keaton noted, just like her father. She was determined to make things more difficult for herself rather than let him help. Pushing down his irritation, he said, “Why don’t I put this stuff away while you change?”
“I’ll take care of it.” She drew near and reached out for the bags. “I’m going to put the crib in my room. The master suite is on the opposite side of the house from the other two bedrooms, and I don’t want her so far away.”
Keaton surrendered the purchases and watched her retreat. As soon as she was out of sight he surveyed his surroundings. The house was a split-floor plan, just as she’d described, with bedrooms on opposite sides of an expansive great room/dining room/kitchen combination. The design was modern; the open flow of the place made it nice for entertaining.
The rooms reflected exactly what he’d expected her style to be. Like him, she preferred furniture that was comfortable rather than stylish. She’d always struck him as practical, but she’d chosen dreamy Texas landscapes for her walls.
Books overflowed the shelves that flanked the fireplace, leaving no room for knickknacks. Or family photos. More books were stacked on the coffee table and each of the side tables. Which wasn’t surprising: his every memory of her had a book in it.
One of the most telling aspects of her décor, and where their taste was drastically different, was the lack of electronics of any kind. That included a television, stereo and video equipment. As rustic as his cabin was, one of the first purchases he’d made before moving in was a forty-inch TV. How could she stand not having such an important connection to the outside world?
“Is something wrong?”
Keaton turned his head and spied her coming his way. She’d traded baggy scrubs for snug jeans that hugged her curves and a dark green sweater with a scoop neck that showed a hint of cleavage.
Knowing he was staring at her in mouthwatering fascination, but unable to help himself, Keaton answered her question. “You don’t have a television.”
“No.” She knotted a scarf around her neck, slipped into her coat and gathered up her purse and keys.
“Any particular reason?” With the most seductive aspects of her form hidden from view, Keaton was able to wrestle his thoughts back into line.
“What’s the point?”
“It’s television.”
She focused a sharp gaze on him. “Mindless entertainment. I prefer to read or bake. I like feeling productive.”
“Not everything on TV is mindless. There are educational programs.” After gesturing her to go first through the doorway, Keaton stepped aside so she could lock the front door. “Some interesting stuff.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured, looking completely unconvinced as he opened the passenger door for her.
His pulse kicked up as she whisked past him. Was his attraction for her going to cause problems? She was already as skittish as a feral cat. If she got any inkling that he craved a taste of her lips, it might ruin the fragile cease-fire they’d established.
Keaton slid behind the wheel. Although he wasn’t much for small talk, he thought engaging Lark in casual conversation would be a good way to build rapport. “You have quite a collection of books. What do you like to read?”
“I alternate between classics and contemporary fiction.”
Hearing her answer, he sighed in frustration. Their taste in books wasn’t going to keep the dialogue flowing easily. “I like biographies and nonfiction.”
She nodded and subsided