Colton Baby Homecoming. Lara Lacombe
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Maybe he really had taken on too much. He hated to admit the possibility, especially because he knew she didn’t think he could handle this. But he’d be damned before he’d admit it to her face. No way was he going to show any kind of weakness in front of her. He’d made that mistake once. Never again.
A loud clap of thunder split the air, making both him and Sara jump. “That one was close,” he said to her, pitching his voice low so as not to fully wake her.
On the heels of the thunder came another pounding, this one at his front door. Ridge frowned. He didn’t get many visitors, and the people who did come to his cabin knew to enter through the back door. That meant whoever was out there was a stranger, and given the events of the day, he didn’t fancy answering the door with a baby in his arms.
“Who do you think it could be?” he asked softly. The baby’s mother, come to claim her child? Maybe she had gotten away from the killer and wanted her baby back. If so, she had a lot of explaining to do. Even though she hadn’t been in his life for very long, Ridge had grown attached to little Sara and he wasn’t about to just hand her over to the first person who came knocking.
There was another possibility, one that made him frown. What if his visitor wasn’t Sara’s mother, but the Alphabet Killer, come to tie up loose ends? It was a bold move, but his cabin was on the edge of the woods in a fairly isolated location. And with the weather being so bad it would be days before anyone wondered about him or would be able to check on him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this was the perfect opportunity for the killer to strike.
He set Sara back down on her bed and tucked a blanket around her, hoping to stave off her cries for at least a few minutes. Then he grabbed the baseball bat propped up in the corner and headed for the door. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he wasn’t going to answer the door unprepared.
The pounding started up again with renewed vigor, as if his visitor was getting impatient. He flipped on the porch light and stopped to peek through the curtains at his front window, trying to identify who might be visiting. Unfortunately, the rain was still coming down hard and it obscured his vision of the porch—he could make out a dark shape, but he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.
Only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on the bat, Ridge unlocked the door and opened it a crack.
“Ridge?”
“Darcy?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. She was the last person he’d expected to see, especially on a night like this.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” She shivered slightly and pushed a wet tendril of hair off her face.
“Oh, of course. Sorry.” Ridge propped the bat next to the door frame and stepped back, gesturing Darcy inside. Sara chose that moment to let out a loud wail and Darcy smiled as she stepped across the threshold.
“How’s it going here?”
Ridge winced. “She doesn’t like it when I set her down.” He quickly closed the door, then crossed the room and scooped Sara up again. Just as before, she stopped crying once she was back in his arms. He resumed pacing and eyed Darcy, who was looking around the den with open curiosity.
“This is a great place,” she commented, slowly wandering from one side of the room to the other, taking in the pictures on the wall, the books on his shelves and the furniture arranged throughout. “I had no idea it was out here. How did you find it?”
“I built it,” he said simply. It felt strange to have her in his home. This was his sanctuary, his safe place. He’d actually never brought a woman here before, and to have Darcy of all people checking out his things made him feel exposed.
“You built this?” She didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in her voice. Then she shook her head and bit her lip. “I’m sorry—that’s the second time I’ve implied that you’re not capable of something.”
He blinked, surprised by her apology. “Uh, that’s okay,” he said. “Most people are shocked when they find out I built it.”
“How long did it take you?” She seemed genuinely interested and he felt that old familiar tug to engage with her, to share with her.
“Six months,” he replied. Darcy whistled softly, apparently impressed, and his cheeks warmed in the face of her approval.
“How did you find me?” Time to get this conversation back on track.
Darcy raised a brow. “You filled out paperwork at the hospital, remember?”
He nodded, kicking himself for having forgotten. “I didn’t realize that was an invitation,” he said coolly.
If Darcy noticed his tone, she didn’t react. “I thought I would stop by and check on you and the baby.”
“Because you don’t think I can take care of her properly?” The words were out before he could stop them, and he heard the bitterness in his own voice. Too bad. He was tired of people scrutinizing his every move, searching for signs of the father in the son before them. All his life, he’d felt as if he was under a microscope, subject to the judgment of others. Even though he’d dedicated his adult life to helping others, people still gave him a wide berth. They treated him like some kind of half-feral dog, one they wanted to like but didn’t fully trust not to attack when their backs were turned.
Darcy held his gaze for a moment, studying him. “No,” she said thoughtfully. “Because I thought you might like some company. Taking care of an infant can be isolating.”
Her reply took the wind out of his sails and the irritation drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly empty. “Oh,” he said dumbly. How had she known that? Did she have experience caring for a baby, or was it just a lucky guess? Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to know more about what she’d been up to in the years since they’d parted ways.
She held up a plastic bag. “Also, I come bearing gifts.” She set the bag on the coffee table and proceeded to pull out packages of diapers and wipes and several bottles of formula. “I was able to raid the nursery before I left tonight. I know I sent you home with some stuff, but I thought you could use some extra, just in case.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling more foolish by the minute. Darcy was just trying to help, and he’d nearly bitten her head off for her troubles. He shook his head, trying to slough off his bad mood.
“I also brought a little something for you, as well,” she continued, reaching back into the bag. With a flourish, she withdrew a long candy bar bearing a familiar white wrap and sporting bold orange letters. “Here you go,” she said, extending the treat toward him. “I got you the biggest one I could find.”
Ridge could only stare down at her and the gift she offered, shocked that she had remembered.
Darcy’s expectant expression melted off her face. “You used to love these. Do you not like them anymore?”
He shook his head, not trusting his voice. After all these years, she still remembered his favorite candy bar. It shouldn’t have surprised him—he still remembered her favorite foods and the way she was so particular about the amount of ice in her drinks. But he hadn’t expected the recall to be mutual. Especially not after so much time had passed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding contrite. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would still like the same things after ten years.” She dropped the candy bar back into the bag and set it aside.
“No,” he said, the word coming out a little hoarse. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “No, I mean I do still love them. I’m just surprised you remembered, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks went a little pink and she fumbled in the bag for the candy bar, passing it to him with a shy smile. “Here you go then.”
“Thank you.”
She turned away and