The Lawman's Baby. Patricia Johns
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the officer, the baby... And if you don’t want to help out, then no hard feelings and I’ll start talking to local grandmothers.”
“And you can tell Nathan that you did your best,” she said.
“Something like that. Unless you want me to tell him I tried but you’re not interested. I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for.”
From across the bull pen, the soft cry of a baby filtered toward them, and Paige’s heart softened. A new dad and a new baby...complications aside, she was curious.
“Let’s go,” she said, and the chief shot her a grin.
“Thanks for this, Paige.”
Paige followed the chief through the bull pen. A couple of officers who stood by the coffeemaker nodded at her. Three others were working at their desks. She knew most of these cops from various cases she’d been called in to. The chief led her to his office, and gestured her in first, then followed, shutting the door behind him.
A large, muscular man sat inside, a baby car seat cradled in his lap. He looked to be around thirty, with short-cropped brown hair. His attention was fixed on the car seat he was holding in his lap. He was rocking it—the entire car seat—and the baby seemed to be settled again. He looked up, his steely gray gaze drilling into her. Paige glanced between the men.
“Hi,” she said feebly.
“This is Officer Mike McMann,” Chief Simpson said. “He’s just transferred over from Denver.”
“Pleasure.” Mike reached out to shake her hand, and she was struck by the sheer size of him. His arms were thick with muscle, but as his broad palm engulfed hers, that iron gaze of his melted, and she caught a flicker of emotion under his professional reserve. And he looked—scared?
From the car seat, another little mewling cry arose, and she bent down to get a closer look. Inside was a tiny newborn baby who couldn’t have been much over five pounds. He was swimming in a blue newborn sleeper that had been rolled up at the sleeves, but the legs just flopped empty underneath him.
“This is my, uh, nephew,” Mike said hesitantly. “His name is Benjie. Well, Benjamin Alexander McMann. It’s kind of long for a guy this small, though.”
“Benjie...” Paige bent over the car seat, and the baby squirmed again and wrinkled up his tiny face in a cry. “Have you held him yet, Mike?”
“Um. Once. I put him right back, though.”
“Once!”
“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Mike said, eyeing her.
“You won’t. He’s not that fragile. Babies are meant to be held—it’s good for them. They need the contact. Do you mind if I pick him up?”
“No, that’d be fine.”
Paige unbuckled the straps and lifted the tiny infant from the restraints. “You’re supposed to hold him as much as possible,” she said. As she pulled the baby up to her shoulder, Benjie instinctively nuzzled into her neck, tucking up those little legs underneath him. There was just something about that milk-sweet scent and the tiny rump in her palm that slowed her heartbeat down. She leaned her cheek against his downy head.
She needed the contact right now, it seemed, and when she looked down at the baby, he opened his mouth in a tiny yawn. She smoothed a hand over that little back. He was thin—which was natural when a baby was born a few weeks early. He didn’t have any of that healthy newborn chub.
“I kind of knew that, but he’s pretty little, and I’m kind of—” He looked down at his hands. “I’m in over my head.”
“He’s your nephew, you said?”
“Yeah. I only found out about him at one this morning. That’s when the hospital tracked me down. He was born four days ago. It took them that long to find me and to be certain that he wasn’t born addicted. He, um, had cocaine in his system.”
“Yes, the chief filled me about that,” she confirmed quietly.
“My sister left him after he was born,” Mike went on. “I’m her only living relative, so he’s in my hands now. I’m obviously working full-time, and add to that, I have no idea how to take care of babies.”
“So you need to learn how to care for a newborn,” she clarified.
“That among other things, I guess. I just need...” He shrugged weakly. “Help.”
Paige could see that much. Mike looked down at the car seat in his lap, and then placed it on the floor. His movements were carefully controlled—she could see the police training in him as he kept himself contained in the chair that was too small for his muscular frame. He rose to his feet and rolled his shoulders, then let his gray gaze move over Paige, finally settling on the baby in her arms.
“Did Chief Simpson tell you that I’m on stress leave?” she asked.
“He mentioned that you had some time off,” Mike replied, glancing toward the chief. Yeah, she was sure the chief had explained more than that.
“I’ve been working in Social Services for seven years now,” she said, “and I’m burned out. You should you know that up front. I need a break—desperately.”
“And helping me out...isn’t exactly the break you’re looking for.”
“Not exactly,” she agreed. The baby nestled closer against her neck, and she patted his back gently. He was so tiny and so desperately in need of love, and she looked over at the infant, her heart melting in spite of her. “He’s very sweet, though.”
It was this sort of scenario that had drawn her to Social Services—parents in need of support, children in need of love. But there was always deeper heartbreak underneath, and that was what made this career so draining. She couldn’t fix it all. She couldn’t fix much actually. Everything she did for the good ended up hurting whoever was on the other side. There was never an easy right or wrong decision.
Mike smiled hesitantly. “I don’t know how to take care of him, and that scares me a whole lot. I’m better with perps and bad guys than I am with babies.”
“I can see that,” she said wryly.
“I can pay you for your time,” Mike added. “Basically, I’ll need to get some sort of child care arranged, but in the meantime, I’m looking for someone to take care of Benjie while I’m at work, and to teach me everything I need to know.”
It should be simple—a few baby care lessons and a little baby minding for a couple of weeks. Maybe it would help her get out of her head so she could decide about what to do with the rest of her life. Was she sticking with Social Services, or was she quitting for good?
“I’m not a long-term solution,” Paige cautioned.
Mike met her gaze, those gray eyes locking on to hers so powerfully that her breath caught. “I’m not looking for long term. I’m just looking for some help right now while I get my balance. What do you say?”
* * *
CHIEF SIMPSON HAD recommended Paige Stedler because he claimed she was the best. And looking at her with the baby nestled next to her chin, her undecided blue eyes meeting his, Mike had to wonder if this was a good idea.
When the chief mentioned a Social Services agent on leave, Mike had figured she’d be older, and maybe a little less attractive. Instead, he was faced with a petite blonde, her hair loose and wavy around her face. Her blue eyes were expressive, and he could read all the concerns flitting through the clear gaze that regarded him.
Paige broke eye contact and looked down at the baby again, adjusting him so that he lay in the crook of her arm. He looked snug and cozy in her arms—and she seemed so confident holding him. Mike had been scared that he’d drop the baby, or hurt him somehow. Benjie was just so small, with thin little arms and legs he was