Sage Creek (13 page)

“Her name’s Karla Sommers.” Martha straightened. “Worked for me—shampoo girl—when she first came to town last year, and I can vouch for her being a hard worker. But she had to switch to waitressing five nights a week at the Double Cross because the money was better. She’s single and has a three-year-old son to support. See, Karla really wants to work days so her little boy can go to daycare and have a chance to play with other kids, then she could be home and with him at night.”

Sophie suddenly remembered the waitress who had served her and Mia at the Double Cross the other night. The one who had been in Roy’s with a little boy. “Does Karla have blond hair? Thin build?”

Martha nodded. “That’s her.”

“Who watches her son while she’s working at the Double Cross?”

“Well, you know, that’s the problem. It’s not the best situation. Karla’s paying a friend with three little ones of her own to keep him at her house every night while she’s at work. Then she picks him up at two in the morning after closing up at the Double Cross, has to cart him out to the car, take him home, and tuck that child right back in bed again.”

She paused to wave at one of her longtime customers who was stepping out of Benson’s Drugstore.

“Usually little Austin, bless his heart, is up and raring to go by eight in the morning. So poor Karla’s pretty much running on empty. And you know how much energy little boys that age have.”

No, Sophie didn’t. Not from personal experience, anyway, much as she would have loved to. She swallowed down a pang and opened her purse, pulling out a notepad with a border of tiny mixing spoons at the top and bottom.

“Here’s my cell number.” She scribbled it on the pad and handed it to Martha as Tidbit barked at a pickup full of teenagers thundering down Main Street, music blasting.

“Tell her to give me a call. She’s welcome to bring Austin to the interview if she’d like. I’ll try to work something out.”

She spent the next half hour with Sam and Denny discussing the floor plans and to-do list. By the time they’d reviewed everything and Sam had promised her the shop would be ready in time for the opening, she decided to take Tidbit for a long walk around town, and maybe even pay Gran a visit.

But a young girl’s voice called her name as she started toward Spring Street and she turned to find Ivy Tanner racing toward her. Tidbit’s tail started wagging a mile a minute.

Behind Ivy, Sophie saw Rafe, crossing toward her with long, easy strides.

It was a struggle not to stare at him like a teenybopper spotting a celebrity on Rodeo Drive. In his white polo shirt, Stetson, jeans, and scuffed boots, he looked every inch a rugged, sexy cowboy, as wildly gorgeous in daylight as he’d been in the dusky shadows of the Double Cross Bar and Grill. The white short-sleeved shirt not only set off his sun-browned skin but revealed biceps that stirred something seismic inside her. He moved with a lean, powerful grace that made it almost impossible for her to tear her gaze from him as Ivy skidded to a halt in front of her, grinning.

“I heard from Aunt Liss that you kept him! I wanted to come over and visit,” Ivy panted, kneeling to pet the overjoyed dog. “But my dad’s been busy working with our new horses and didn’t have time to bring me. So he didn’t have a chip?”

“No chip.” Sophie watched as Tidbit licked Ivy’s face and the girl giggled. “I named him Tidbit,” she said inanely just as Rafe walked up.

“Tidbit. You
look
like a Tidbit!” Ivy told the dog, giving him a hug. He was still greeting her like an old, favorite friend, enthusiastically licking her face, her fingers, even her knees.

“So this is the wanderer I’ve been hearing about.”

“Isn’t he cute, Dad? I think we should go over to the shelter and adopt a new dog too. Starbucks is lonely. So can we?”

“We’ll talk about it,” Rafe said, his brows knitting. Sophie McPhee had barely glanced at him when he walked up. Much less said hello. She seemed wholly intent on Ivy and Tidbit, as if he wasn’t even there.

It was almost insulting.

He’d been trying to forget about her for more than a week, but the whole town had been buzzing about her and the bakery she was opening. Some were in favor of the bakery replacing Roy’s, some against. No surprise there.

What did surprise him was that, if possible, Sophie looked even prettier today in her tight-fitting baby blue T-shirt and jean shorts than she had at the Double Cross Bar and Grill.

He tried not to stare at her breasts. Or at her long, tanned legs. Or at her mouth, soft and full as a summerripe peach.

Her hair was swept back in a ponytail, showing off a long slender neck that seemed made for a man to nibble on. When the sunlight revealed an unexpected dusting of freckles across her nose, he found her even more irresistibly sexy.

“When’s the grand opening?” He nodded in the direction of the bakery. As she met his gaze, he felt his blood stir with an instant heat.

“A week from Monday, just a few days after Lissie’s shower. I hope.” She smiled, uncertainty flickering in those bewitching green eyes. “There’s a lot of work to do before that.”

“What’s the name?” Ivy wanted to know.

“A Bun in the Oven.”

A smile spread across the girl’s face. “Cool.”

Rafe’s cell phone rang. “Tanner,” he answered, without checking caller ID. And then something in his face changed and his entire body went still.

“When?” he said, and a frown settled over his face. “Okay, we’re on our way. Ivy’s with me—so we’ll meet you there. Tommy, everything’s going to be fine.”

“That was Uncle Tommy? What’s wrong?” Ivy stared at him in sudden alarm as Rafe ended the call. “Is Aunt Lissie okay?”

“She will be. She slipped in the kitchen and fell down pretty hard. And now she’s having some problems.”

“What kinds of problems?” There was panic in Ivy’s eyes.

Sophie felt a thin finger of fear slide down her spine. Her gaze was locked on Rafe’s face.

“Spotting. And . . . she’s having some contractions.”

No,
Sophie, thought.
Oh, please, no.

“You mean . . . the baby’s coming? Now?” Ivy grabbed at his arm. “But, Dad, she can’t. It’s not time yet!”

Responding to the alarm in his daughter’s face, Rafe pulled her close. He looked calm, but Sophie noticed the tension in his broad shoulders as he held his daughter. “Listen to me, Ives. Aunt Liss is going to be just fine. The baby too.”

But as his gaze met Sophie’s above Ivy’s head, the stark look in his eyes belied his reassuring words.

“It isn’t
that
early, is it?” he asked her quietly, as if she should know about babies.

“No, no, not these days.” Sophie gulped, thinking hard. “I think she’s twenty-nine weeks now. The doctors will handle it either way, and maybe they can even slow things down.”

But Ivy was growing paler by the second. As Rafe released her, Sophie reached out instinctively to touch her hand.

“The doctors will take excellent care of her and the baby, Ivy. They’ll know exactly what to do.”

“Sophie’s right.” Despite Rafe’s even tone, Sophie saw the muscle clenched in his jaw and she knew he was as worried as she was.

“Aunt Liss and Uncle Tommy are headed to the hospital now. They’ll be there soon. And that’s where we’re going too.” He looked at Sophie. “Want to come with us?”

“I’ll have to follow you.” She glanced down at Tidbit. She couldn’t leave him alone in her car in the heat, especially since she had no idea how long she’d be at the hospital.

“I’ll catch up with you as soon as I drop Tidbit somewhere.”

She kept her tone as level as his for Ivy’s sake. “Hopefully at my grandmother’s apartment.”

Rafe nodded and caught Ivy’s hand. Sophie watched them race toward his truck, Rafe slowing his steps to keep pace with his daughter.

Yanking out her cell, Sophie punched in her grandmother’s number with shaking fingers.

Relief flooded her when Gran picked up.

“It’s a good thing you called, Sophie dear. I can’t find my recipe for Aunt Lucy’s cherry pinwheels anywhere. Do you still have that copy I gave you? Darned if I didn’t used to know it by heart, but now I just don’t recall if she used a cup and a half of brown sugar or two cups and—”

“Gran, I can’t talk now, but I promise I’ll look for the recipe later. Can I bring Tidbit over to stay with you for a while? It’s an emergency.”

“Well, of course you can, but what kind of emergency?” Gran’s tone rose a notch. “Are you all right, Sophie? Is your mother—”

“We’re fine, but Lissie isn’t.” She explained what had happened as she lifted Tidbit back into the Blazer and then drove the half dozen blocks to Gran’s apartment building, a few blocks south of Lonesome Way’s town square.

Ten minutes later she was hurrying through the hospital, asking where Lissie had been taken. She found Rafe and Ivy in a visitors’ waiting room on the second floor.

Rafe was staring down the hall, his expression grim. He’d bought Ivy a Coke from the vending machine, but she hadn’t taken a sip as far as Sophie could tell. She was slumped in a chair at the small, square table, her bright curly hair tumbling over her eyes, the untouched Coke before her. Like Rafe, she was desperately watching the hallway for any sign of her Uncle Tommy—and news.

“Tommy’s still in with Lissie and the doctor,” Rafe explained as Sophie paused in the doorway.

“You haven’t had a chance to talk to him at all? Or to anyone?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “They were already in the ER when we arrived. Then they moved Lissie to a room, but no one’s been able—or willing,” he added grimly, “to tell us anything except her room number yet. All we know is that the doctor is with her.”

Sophie turned, peered down the hall. “What room are they in?”

“Two-oh-four.”

She studied it, foolishly willing Tommy to come out with a relieved smile on his broad face, to tell them that Lissie and the baby were perfect. But, of course, he didn’t. The glum, beige hallway was deserted, save for a nurse reading a patient chart outside a room at the end of the hall.

Ivy looked ready to burst into tears as Sophie slipped into a chair beside her. “Everything’s going to be all right, you know. This might not be anything serious at all.”

“Do you really think that?” Ivy’s eleven-year-old eyes peered into hers, searching for truth. “Or are you just telling me that because I’m a kid and you don’t want me to cry?”

“There’s nothing to cry about yet. And hopefully there won’t be.” Sophie kept her tone positive. “My friend Rosie went into premature labor with her son, Oliver. He was born a month early, but he was perfect. And Rosie was fine. Want to see a picture of him?”

As Ivy nodded, a gleam of hope in her eyes, Sophie flipped through the photos on her phone. Rosie had been her manager at Sweet Sensations, and her son, Oliver, was now two.

“He’s so cute!” Ivy stared at Oliver’s eighteen-month picture. The little boy with the stick-straight black hair and dark eyes was perched on a miniature red truck, a toy football clutched in his chubby hands.

“Your little cousin’s going to be every bit as cute.” Sophie tucked her phone away. The longer she kept Ivy talking, the less time the girl would have to worry. “Did you get her a shower gift yet?”

“I can’t decide what to buy.”

“Walmart carries some adorable mobiles. Or you can order one online. There’s a great website called BabyBaby you should check out. I’ll write the addy down for you.” She dug in her purse for her note pad and pen. “I bought one for my friend Susan. It had ten tiny painted-wood puppies dangling from it. If that’s not cute, I don’t know what is.”

She’s good,
Rafe thought, watching as he leaned against the wall near the magazine rack. He’d wanted to comfort his daughter, but he hadn’t known the right things to say. Sophie seemed to be getting it right.
Reassure and distract.
She did it effortlessly.

She’d succeeded in talking Ivy down from full panic mode. Hell, she might even have calmed
him
down too, except that he’d heard the fear in Tommy’s voice on the phone, along with Lissie’s muffled sobs in the background. A knot of worry tore through his gut.

It tightened painfully as Ivy suddenly looked down, and he saw her lips trembling.

“Ivy, don’t forget how tough your Aunt Lissie is,” he said quickly. “She had to be, growing up with me and Uncle Travis and Uncle Jake for brothers.”

“Aunt Liss promised I could babysit when I turn thirteen.” Ivy’s voice sounded muffled. “But right now I don’t even care if she lets me. I just want to
have
a baby cousin. I want her to be born and to be okay.” She stopped, drew a ragged breath.

“She will be okay,” Sophie said. “She’ll be great. Scares like this happen, they’re not all that uncommon. And everything usually works out fine. Little babies—and their mothers—are much stronger than most people think.”