Emergency Delivery (Love Emergency) (5 page)

“Yeah. That was my reaction, too. I’m not proud to admit relief factored in as well. I was done. Game over. But it took a little while to completely unwind the whole cluster-fuck, during which time I failed all my finals and flunked out of school. I celebrated my nineteenth birthday as a divorced college washout, with a mama who couldn’t look at him without tearing up and a daddy who barely spoke to him. I’d screwed up on every front. It was not my finest milestone.”

“But somehow you pulled your life together.” She rubbed his shoulder then withdrew her hand. “I admire that.”

She worried she wouldn’t be able to do the same. He heard the uncertainty behind her words and wished he knew her well enough to offer convincing reassurances rather than generic platitudes. Instead, he focused on what had worked for him. “I found an alternate path. My sister actually suggested it to me. She knew I wanted a career that offered me the opportunity to deliver babies by the roadside, but I didn’t have the heart, drive, or the funds for another run at med school. She took me in and lent me the money to give the EMT thing a shot, and”—he shrugged—“so far, so good.”

Her self-conscious smile filled his rearview. “I guess I owe your sister a thank-you…oh goodness.” She yawned and then rested her head against the seat and smiled again. “Excuse me.”

Another five minutes, he estimated, and Joy wouldn’t be the only one snoozing.

The smile faded. “Did your parents come ’round, eventually?”

“My mom, yes. I think she respects the choices I’ve made. My dad?” Familiar regret dropped anchor in his stomach. “He’s never really gotten over the disappointment of me flunking out of med school. I fell short. I let him down.”

More importantly than his dad’s feelings on the matter, though, Hunter wasn’t sure
he’d
ever gotten over the disappointment, and that, rather than anything he saw in his father’s face, had compelled him to complete his pre-med studies and earn his bachelor’s degree in his spare time. It had compelled him to take the MCAT again, after almost ten years, and submit applications to medical schools. And if any of the secondary applications he’d received turned into an acceptance letter, he’d start medical school in the fall—to prove to
himself
he could, and to satisfy his own career goals. This time around he wouldn’t allow any complications. He wouldn’t lose his focus. He wouldn’t set himself up to fail.

He flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Madison had fallen asleep with her hand on the baby and a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

…

Madison sifted powder-soft white sand through her fingers and soaked up the heat of the sun on her bare limbs. The beach was every bit as peaceful as she’d always imagined, and it felt so good to simply lie still and do nothing. She couldn’t say why she’d never before discovered the path through Grandma’s backyard led to this perfect, tropical paradise, but she didn’t question the magic. She intended to enjoy herself. Especially since… Wow. Her body looked amazing in this tiny white bikini. Tanned cleavage and a smooth, flat stomach. Something wasn’t quite right about that. Even as the thought occurred to her, a baby started to cry nearby.
Poor thing. Someone ought to do something
. Seemed the baby agreed, because the cries got louder.

Madison blinked her eyes open and stared down at the pink-faced infant beside her in a car seat. Competing waves of love and terror slammed into her at once—a sensation she was almost getting used to—and she shook the last vestiges of the dream out of her head.

She
was the “someone” who ought to do “something.” She fumbled for the pacifier tucked somewhere in the diaper bag.

“We’ll be at my place in a minute.” Hunter’s voice came from the front of the car. “Then you can take her out of there and see what she needs.”

Disorientation left her brain moving slow. “Um…okay.” She found the bright pink pacifier and popped it into Joy’s mouth. The baby looked dumbstruck for a second but then she started sucking away.

Madison glanced out the window and took in the quiet, tree-lined street flanked by established, well cared for homes. They boasted fresh paint, trimmed lawns, and shiny, late-model cars in the driveways. The moon sat low in the sky, its silver beams breaking through the filmy edges of lead-bottomed clouds piled up along the hilltops in the distance. “How long was I asleep?”

“About an hour. I took the roundabout way since that little girl back there enjoyed the ride so much. But”—he broke off and made a left turn into a driveway—“we’re here.”

Behind a couple of winter-bare maples sat a single-story house on a stacked stone base. It wasn’t much bigger than her grandma’s house but loads fancier. Hand
crafted
instead of handmade. Back in her part of ’Bama they’d have called it a cabin, but in this area people probably called it a cottage or a bungalow. Real wood shingles covered the facade, instead of aluminum siding. The generous porch extended in a graceful slant over the front door, rather than sagging like a tired visitor. Original, multi-paned windows faced the street.

“This is your house?”

He rolled to a stop and cut the ignition. “Technically, it’s my sister’s house, but I rent from her. She followed love and career to New York, so she doesn’t need the place right now.”

Would Joy ever be a big sister? Having grown up scarce on family herself, Madison had always figured on having a large one when she got older—an adoring husband and a roomy SUV with the stick figure stickers on the back window, featuring every member of the family plus dog and cat. Funny how she’d never once imagined herself single and alone, with a baby to raise. Did they make stick figure stickers for that? She looked at Joy busily sucking on her paci, oblivious to how colossally her mother had failed her already. Or maybe not so oblivious, because as soon as she stared into those round blue eyes and offered up a telepathic,
Mommy’s sorry she didn’t plan for you better
, Joy spit out the pacifier and started to cry.

The door beside her swung open and Hunter filled the space. “Come on.” He took her hand and helped her down. “Bring her inside. I’ll get you set up in the spare room. You can tend to her while I unload your things.”

“I can get the bags later. I don’t want to impose on you to be my bellboy.”

“You’re not imposing. I volunteered.” He shut the door, walked around to the other side of the car, and looked at her over the roof. “If you behave yourself, I might even offer you a beverage and let you use the facilities.” A blond brow cocked, along with the corner of his mouth.

She came around to where he stood holding the back passenger door open and unlatched Joy from the car seat. “You had me at facilities.”

He laughed. “So much for my dangerous charm.”

Oh, but he was a dangerous charmer, she thought as she followed him up the front steps and into the house. The way he’d automatically grabbed the diaper bag and the tote while she carried the baby? Charming. The way he’d gently but steadily manipulated her into doing exactly what he wanted? Dangerous—even if it was for her own good. She’d tangled with one dangerous charmer already, and look how that had turned out.

From here on out she needed to be less susceptible to charm. Bottom line? She needed to stand on her own two feet, not lean on him. Her self-respect demanded it. The blood of a strong and resourceful woman flowed in her veins. She had it in her to be the same kind of role model. Joy deserved no less.

Chapter Six

Hunter shined an apple on his shirt and knocked on the door to his spare room. Thanks to him not having another place to put his desk, the space looked more like an office than a guestroom, but thanks to his sister, it had a daybed, a small dresser, and a comfortable chair.

Some rustling greeted his knock, and then Madison said, “Come in.”

He walked in to find her sitting on the bed, the presumably happy baby feeding away under cover of one of the baby blankets from the hospital. He placed the apple on the table beside the bed. “I hear one of these a day keeps the doctor away.”

“Thanks.” The bedside light cast a warm glow over the room—and her cheeks—although the warmth in her cheeks might have an equal amount to do with breastfeeding in front of him—again—even with the protection of a blanket. How much warmer would her cheeks grow if she knew what effect the sight of her cleavage in the snug gray top had on him?

Hold up, pervert. You’re fantasizing about the new mama’s tits.
Jesus, he needed a cold shower. He pushed his prurient thoughts away and sent her the disarming smile he reserved for skittish patients. “You ladies doing okay in here?”

“We’re good. I was thinking…” Her eyes slid to his desk, where his laptop sat. “Would you mind if I borrowed your computer to find a new motel? I might even be able to get a room tonight, if I can trouble you for a ride?”

Giving her a ride wasn’t any trouble. The trouble came when he envisioned leaving her alone with a month-old baby, no car, and nobody to turn to if something went wrong. She could book a room at the Four fucking Seasons. His answer was still no. But a smart man would find a way to talk her out of it and leave her pride intact.

He sagged against the doorframe and yawned. “Damn. Sorry. Long day…the shift slammed me. I’m pretty beat. What were you saying?”

“I was thinking…um… Never mind. We can talk about it tomorrow. I appreciate you putting us up tonight.”

“I’ll wave to you from the podium when they give out the Nobel Prize for simple human decency.”

The sarcasm drew a weak smile out of her. He’d take it over the beholden expression she’d worn a second ago, which made him feel awkward. This
was
simple human decency, for Christ’s sake, not some ego-driven need to prove he could fix everything. Screw Ashley and her hero complex bullshit. Restless energy brought him to his feet. He rubbed his palms down the legs of his jeans. “I’m going to run to the store.” Babies ate every couple hours. The small stash of diapers wouldn’t last long. “Do you need anything?”

Her smile turned sharp. “I thought you were tired.”

Busted. “I got my second wind.”

“Yeah, right. You’re about as tired as you are gay.”

Apparently she wasn’t above a little sarcasm, either. “Could be I like to smooth my path, whenever possible.”

“You get much smoother, I’ll have to remind myself not to trust a single word that comes out of your mouth.”

“Very funny.” Unless she actually felt that way? Muscles in his stomach tightened. He tipped her chin up until their eyes met. “You can trust me, Madison.”

“Sorry.” She blinked and looked away. “That came out wrong. It’s me, not you. I’m a little rusty with trust.”

Of course she was, and he shouldn’t take it personally. “Don’t make me dig out my Boy Scout badges.”

She shook her head and held up a hand. “Not necessary.”

“See, you’re not so rusty. Need anything from the store?”

“I do. Joy’s down to eight diapers, and I need more…” She broke off and blushed. “We should come with you.”

“Don’t talk crazy. Just tell me what you need. You’re not going to shock me. I guarantee you, if men gave birth, not a single guy on the planet would hesitate to demand a lifetime supply of Lidocaine spray and Preparation H.”

She compromised by writing out a list, folding it, and handing it over, wrapped in two twenties. Women.

“Does pizza sound good for dinner?”

“Hunter, you don’t have to feed me.”

“I have to feed
me,
and I can’t eat an entire pizza by myself. In the meantime”—he pointed to the apple—“have a snack.”

A stare-down followed, but he held his ground until she picked up the apple and took a bite. He rode that small wave of success out of the house and mentally added apples to his list.

Getting the grocery and pharmacy items took a little more time than he anticipated. He’d been right about nothing on Madison’s top secret list shocking him, but he did a little phone-enabled research and took the liberty of adding a few recommended items.

After crossing the last thing off her list, he swung down the baby gear aisle and found something called a portable baby lounge. It looked like a giant bedroom slipper but was probably safer and more comfortable than letting the baby sleep in a dresser drawer. The next aisle led to the registers, eventually. He cruised through. Cards, wrapping paper, and gift bags passed by in a colorful blur, until he caught a glimpse of something big and pink in his peripheral vision. He skidded to a halt and then looked up. There, on the top shelf sat a row of teddy bears. An image of Madison’s empty hospital room filled his mind. Before he could talk himself out of it, he snagged one of the cotton candy pink bears by a paw and pulled it down. The tag read 0+ years. He put Pinkie in the cart.

…

“Okay, baby girl, are you ready? You ready?” Madison sat next to Joy, who lay on a blanket on the living room rug, giving her a look that seemed to say,
Mama, I was born ready.

“All right then. Here we go.” She turned Joy over onto her tummy and then slowly let go. “What do you think? You like tummy time? The doctor recommends three minutes, three times a day, at first, so that beautiful head of yours doesn’t go flat in the back.”

Joy tucked her arms into her chest and drew her knees up in line with her hips—how in the world? Her little toes curled into the blanket. She seemed content, but Madison chewed on her cuticle and watched. Was she comfortable? Was the floor too hard? Were the frog legs normal?

The baby couldn’t supply any precise answers, so Madison stretched out on the floor next to Joy and rolled over onto her stomach. She turned her head to the side so she faced her daughter. The baby rewarded her with a soft cooing sound.

The floor felt okay. A little brutal on her breasts, but Joy wouldn’t have that complaint. And if she pulled her arms in, too… Yeah, not too bad. She couldn’t mimic the legs, though. She could bring one leg up, or the other, but both at the same time? Uh-uh. Humans were
not
meant to bend that way.

“Do I even want to know?”

The deep-voiced question came from behind her. She levered her body into an ungainly semi-pushup and twisted around to find Hunter staring at her, holding a bunch of big plastic shopping bags. She tried not to wonder how much she looked like a beached walrus right at that moment.

He dropped the bags onto the sofa and then strode toward her. “Slow your roll, Foley.” A smile slid across his lips. “You just got out of the hospital. No way am I clearing you for mommy and me yoga yet.” Before she could try to explain why she was sprawled all over his living room rug, he reached down and flipped her over in one smooth, controlled move.

The casual show of strength provoked a not-so-casual uptick in her pulse. Then he knelt by her hip and braced his hands on either side of her head, bringing his laughing eyes and sexy smile even closer, and she felt way too…susceptible…lying flat on her back with him leaning over her. She propped herself up on her elbows, hoping that asserting some control over her body would make her feel less vulnerable, but the move only brought their faces closer. Now she could see the shadow of whiskers on his jaw, a shade or two darker than his hair, and she fought a wayward urge to run her palm over his cheek and feel the scrape of his stubble.

Breathe. Clear your head
. She drew in air through her nose and then took another quick, greedy inhale, because he smelled just like the imported green tea she used to drink as a treat during her breaks at work before she’d realized she was pregnant. Her mouth watered. A new urge took hold, to bury her face against the underside of his jaw and breathe him in deep—deep enough to taste his scent at the back of her tongue.

She forced a swallow down her tight, dry throat, which resulted in an audible gulp. Did he hear? Did the desperate, hungry sound tell him what sorts of inappropriate thoughts danced through her mind?
For God’s sake, say something
. “I wasn’t doing yoga.”

“No?” Under half-lowered lids, his eyes strayed to her mouth. “What were you up to?”

Her lips went warm and tingly, as if he’d run his rough jaw over them instead of just his watchful gaze. He brushed her hair off her shoulder. The casual gesture sent the warm tingles cascading into her chest.

“Tummy time.”

He had the most fascinating smile. A thin, strangely vulnerable strip of smooth skin outlined his upper lip and softened the almost cocky tilt at the corner of his mouth. As she watched, the cocky tilt tipped up a notch.

“You’re about twenty-one and a half years too late for tummy time.”

“Not for me. For her.” She pointed to Joy. “But then she did this froggy thing with her legs, and I got to wondering if it was normal…”

“It is.”

He ran his big hand over Joy’s back, making her look small and fragile in comparison, and it occurred to Madison that the man touched frequently, with the assurance of someone who expected no objections. The tendency probably went hand-in-hand with his job. Nothing personal. No need to read too much into it. Her tingles settled. A little.

“Are you sure? I tried, and there’s no way I can get my legs like that without breaking something.”

He straightened and sat back on his heels. “Nothing’s broken. A broken bone hurts, and babies let you know right away if they’re in pain. I’m sure her pediatrician checked for dysplasia, but double-checking won’t do any harm.”

“It would put my mind at ease.” She started to move out of his way, but he simply crawled over her. Breath backed up in her lungs at the sight of his thighs straddling her hips, and it didn’t release until he moved to the foot of Joy’s blanket. Mercy.

Thankfully, he appeared oblivious to the puddle of hormones he’d left in his wake. He picked Joy up and repositioned her onto her back. She made a startled sound and threw her arms out wide, fingers splayed, in a non-verbal, yet totally articulate question.
What. Just. Happened?

Hunter leaned in and kissed her forehead, and Joy took the opportunity to run her hands through his hair. Smart cookie.

“Hey pretty girl, wanna play?” He tickled the soles of her feet and then gently folded her legs at the knees. He flexed one bent leg outward, then the other, and then both at the same time. Finally, he brought her legs up and touched each big toe to her little nose. “Future Olympic gymnast.”

Madison sat up and ran her index finger across Joy’s open hand. Dainty fingers closed like a slow Venus flytrap. Would the sight of that tiny hand clasping hers ever get old? “I’ll settle for healthy and happy.”

“To that end…” He got to his feet with an athletic grace she envied, lifted one of the shopping bags off the couch, and placed it beside her. It contained an extra large package of diapers, wipes, baby wash… A second bag dropped in her lap and landed like a big, dense pillow.

She pushed the plastic down and found herself face to face with a pink bear stuffed into a soft-sided, portable baby bed. Her stupid heart clutched. “Hunter, what have you done?”

“Got Joy a birthday present.”

Madison pulled the whole thing out of the bag and then tugged the bear out of the bed. “This is too much. For real. The bear is twice her size.”

“She’ll grow. Look.” He took the bear from her, put it on the blanket, and scooted Joy up until she reclined against the soft tummy. “She likes it.”

Sure enough, the baby snuggled in. Her eyelids drooped. Her fingers opened and closed around one fluffy foot.

Joy had the bear to cling to, but Madison was sinking fast. “She loves it. And the bed is perfect.” Her eyes found his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He placed another shopping bag into her lap. “Her mama should be happy and healthy, too.”

A peek inside told her he’d gotten everything on her list and then some, including some snack-sized bags of trail mix, a name brand shampoo and conditioner, a large traffic-cone orange insulated water bottle, as well as a new mom gift basket chocked full of bath salts, body wash, lotion, and a scrubber. Her dormant girlie side nearly swooned with gratitude, but her stomach sank at the extravagance. “Forty dollars couldn’t possibly cover all this.” She gestured to the bags.

“They were having a Mother’s Day sale.”

Uh-uh. Don’t let him foot the bill.
“It’s February. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“Hunter, I’m not your charity case.” She’d already started a list of what she owed him, based on the receipt she’d found in the Target bag, but now numbers rushed through her mind as she arrived at a new total.

“Stop.” He sat on the floor with his back propped against the couch and gave her a hard stare—no trace of the cocky grin. “I don’t want your money, and accepting a few necessities hardly makes you a charity case.”

“These aren’t necessities.” She held up a bottle of lavender bubble bath. “They’re frivolities, and I don’t have time for them.”

“Joy’s health and happiness rely in large part on yours, so you need to take care of yourself. That’s rule number one. Taking care of yourself means eating smart”—he held up a bag of trail mix—“staying hydrated”—he picked up the water bottle—“and learning how to relax and unwind”—he pointed to the bubble bath she still held. “I don’t care if it feels frivolous. It’s not. These things are important, and doing them benefits both of you.”

He had a way of pulling her arguments right out from under her, and making her feel foolish in the process. How could she pit her pride against what was best for the baby? She picked Joy up and hugged the infant’s warm little body against her chest. “It was kind of you—”