The Bull Rider's Baby. Brenda Minton
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Keeton through the front door. He had already picked up Lucy and had her cradled against his chest. “She’s pretty warm.”
Sophie kissed the baby’s brow. “Very. Have you given her the medicine?”
“Yeah, when I got back.”
“And a bath?”
“Not yet.” He smiled and there was something different about a cowboy smile when the cowboy was holding a baby. “I haven’t read the book.”
Sophie reached for the baby and he handed Lucy over.
“Run lukewarm water in the sink. We’ll start there. I’ll give you a crash course in baby bathing and you can read your how-to manual later.”
“Thanks, Sophie, I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” She followed him into the kitchen. He turned on the tap and washed out the sink. “Do you have baby soap?”
“Yeah, let me get the water going and I’ll go get the supplies I bought at the store.”
Regret—Sophie had a lot. And after today, she’d have more. Hip against the counter, she watched as he plugged the sink and then rummaged through the plastic bags on the counter, pulling out the soap, washcloth and towel. He held up a little sleeper, pink with ponies on the front.
“Sweet. You did good.” Sophie spread the towel on the counter and slipped off the dirty sleeper. She dropped it on the floor and waited for it to get up and walk away on its own. It was that dirty.
“Now what?”
“You can throw that sleeper away.”
“Done.” He picked it up and tossed it in the trash. A second later he was at her side again. He smelled good. Spicy with a hint of a pine forest mixed in. It was the kind of scent that made a woman want to lean in close.
If it were any other man. If she was any other woman. She sighed and let go of need, held on to strength.
“In the bath she goes.” Sophie lifted the baby, and before putting her in the water, tested it to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. “Perfect. Maybe this will help break that fever. And I’m sure she’ll feel better.”
“Soph, I appreciate this.”
“Of course you do, because you think I’m going to do all of the work. Surprise.” She cradled the baby in the water. Lucy tested the surface of the water with pudgy little fingers, and then she splashed just a little. “Hold her like this and then squirt a little soap on the washcloth. It doesn’t take much to wash a baby, Keeton. Even her hair. There isn’t much of it.”
“Right, of course.” He swallowed loud and she looked up, smiling at the bead of perspiration across his brow.
“Easy-peasy.” She moved a little but still cradled the baby on her left arm. “Your turn.”
“She’s already clean.”
“I know, but I want you to be able to do this on your own.”
“I can.” He cleared his throat. “Seriously, Soph, I can do this.”
“You could hire a nanny.”
“I have skills.”
Yeah, she thought.
He reached for his baby girl and Sophie moved her hands to make room for his. She glanced up and he looked down. It felt suddenly very warm in that little kitchen.
“I can handle it without a nanny.” He repeated her actions and Lucy giggled, happy to be clean and to be cooler. “She hasn’t eaten a lot today.”
“She needs liquids. Especially now, with a fever. If she gets enough formula, give her water.” She placed the towel over his shoulder and he looked a little stricken. “Take her out before she gets chilled.”
“I can’t believe this is my life.” He lifted Lucy out of the bathwater and wrapped the towel around her. Sophie took the child from his arms.
“Believe it, Keeton West, this is your life.” She held Lucy close. “What were you planning, coming back here?”
He grabbed a diaper and the sleeper. Sophie put the baby on the counter and made quick work of putting a diaper and the sleeper on Lucy. A little part of her liked that he looked in awe.
“I thought I’d come back and reclaim what should have been mine.” He held his daughter.
The lighthearted moment of seconds ago dissolved. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He leaned, brushing a brotherly kiss on the side of her head. She paused midbutton on the sleeper and looked up at him.
“I know it isn’t—wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry, Keeton, for everything. I’m sorry for the years we’ve all lost, being sorry, being guilty, being alone.” She looked away, because it was easier to focus on Lucy. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.”
Did he really? She thought he probably still felt guilty. He’d been a kid, really. Even though at eighteen and nineteen they’d thought they were grown, thought they knew everything.
She handed him the baby girl that had his eyes. And in those eyes she saw a little bit of Kade, the West she’d planned on marrying. In a jewelry box at home she had the ring he’d given her, a promise that someday they’d get engaged, get married.
She also had a rose, taken from one of the flower arrangements on his casket. And in a notebook, hidden away in her dresser, she had a note from Keeton, telling her how sorry he was for what had happened. He blamed himself. He would always blame himself.
And he’d spent his life trying to earn the national bull-riding championship Kade had wanted. He was still chasing Kade’s dreams.
She wanted to tell him that. She wanted to tell him to let it go and find what he wanted. Maybe this farm was it? But she wouldn’t go back to other memories, of the afternoon of the funeral and finding comfort in Keeton’s arms.
Keeton wasn’t the only one who felt guilty.
Chapter Three
Keeton walked Sophie out the front door. Lucy, bathed and cooler to the touch, slept soundly in her new crib. Sophie had promised to watch his daughter while he rode at a local bull ride that evening. He’d brought it up. She’d offered. For the baby, not for him.
A crash in the field caught his attention as they stood on the porch. He glanced toward the barn, saw a flash of red-gold.
“What’s that?”
Sophie looked in the direction he pointed and she laughed. Okay, so whatever it was, she found it amusing. He watched as the animal tramped through the overgrown brush and scrub trees that he’d be cutting down in a few days. A mule appeared. It saw them, snorted, tossed its big head and then raced off in the other direction. Before Keeton could comment, the mule jumped the fallen tree that leaned against the corral.
“That was Lucky the mule.” She shaded her eyes with her hand and watched. And he watched her.
“You find Lucky on the loose amusing?”
She turned, still smiling. The girl his brother had planned to marry still lurked in her eyes, still smiled up at him. But she was a woman. A beautiful woman. One he would have liked knowing. Would still like to know. That brought up a whole bag of “if only” that he didn’t plan on getting into.
“Lucky belongs to my brother Lucky, but then, Lucky doesn’t belong to anyone. Lucky, my brother, bought him six months ago, as a yearling. He brought him home, put him in the corral. The next day, Lucky was gone. Got that?”
“I think. Lucky your brother has a mule named Lucky, which you named. He’s been running