Their Baby Blessing. Heidi McCahan
babbled an unintelligible sound and kicked one leg against Skye’s hip, while leaning farther out of her grasp. He wasn’t old enough to use words yet, but she understood his body language. She gently passed him to Gage, acutely aware of the warmth of Gage’s fingers brushing against hers.
Skye avoided eye contact and moved past him to the kitchen, wishing there was a wall or a cabinet or anything to block her view of Gage, with his powder blue long-sleeve shirt hugging the defined curves of his muscular arms, cautiously holding Connor like he was the most fragile thing in the world. A telltale flutter in her midsection made her deliberately turn away and take her sweet time rummaging in the pantry for a container of the puffed-rice snacks Connor loved.
That was the last thing she needed—succumbing to the image of this strong, competent man riding in like some fairy-tale hero to rescue the damsel in distress.
She wasn’t in distress. Okay, maybe she had a little bit going on in her life, but she didn’t need him to rescue her.
“Gage was just telling me he might be the solution to your child care dilemma,” Mom said, her tone hinting that she was completely on board with the idea.
The round metal container slipped from Skye’s hands and rolled across the hardwood. Blood pounded in her ears as she chased after it. Gage was watching her—she could feel the weight of those gorgeous hazel eyes tracking her. Did he sense her apprehension?
She straightened, just in time to catch Connor looking up at Gage, his little hand exploring his face, and his pudgy cheeks scrunched in an adoring smile.
Oh brother. Don’t tell me you’re captivated, too.
“We didn’t get a chance to discuss it.”
Mom shot her a look. “What’s to discuss? You need someone consistent and reliable, with flexibility in their schedule. And I’ll be here to advise Gage on what to do.”
But what about long-term? What kind of impact would Gage’s role in Connor’s life have? She bit her lip and stole another glance at Connor. He babbled and cooed, his fingers meandering around Gage’s angular jaw. When Gage mimicked a playful bite toward Connor’s hand, the little boy’s belly laugh made Skye’s breath catch.
Mom caught her staring and arched a brow as if to say, See?
Skye averted her gaze and poured the rice puffs into a small plastic bowl, then carried it to the table.
“I know you wanted Connor to spend time with other children, but given his history with biting, and as long as he’s still taking two naps, maybe keeping him here is the best thing for now. Gage can come by for a few hours. Between the two of us, we—”
“All right.” Exasperated, Skye cut her off. “Point taken.”
Connor stopped jabbering and stared at her, his lower lip pooched out. Gage and Mom both glanced at her, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry.” She softened her tone as she set the bowl on the table in front of Gage and Connor. “That sounded harsh.”
An awkward silence blanketed them, and she returned to the kitchen to put some water in a sippy cup for Connor, her face flaming. Again. She only wanted to do what was best for Connor, but now she felt like the irrational one. How did that happen?
“I think what Skye is trying to convey is that we weren’t really prepared for any of this,” Mom said. “McKenna has always been wild and impulsive, but she didn’t give us any indication that she planned to leave him. Once she settled in here, she seemed content. But now that she’s gone, we want to make sure we do the right thing. Between caring for Connor, the store and my surgery... This is a lot for us to handle.”
Skye felt the tension in her shoulders loosen. There. Ditto, she wanted to say, but that sounded ridiculously inadequate. Not to mention childish. Gage probably thought she was a mess.
“I totally get it.” Gage’s deep voice was filled with empathy. Compassion. “It’s a radical idea, me coming here, claiming a connection to this child and offering to help. I don’t blame you for being skeptical. I’m glad you’re questioning my intentions.”
This time it was Skye’s turn to stare in disbelief. “You are?”
“Absolutely. You can’t be too careful.” Gage shifted Connor to the crook of his opposite arm. “Let me assure you, again, that I want what’s best for my friend’s son, too.”
“Of course you do.” Her mother reached over and patted his hand. “I’m going to leave you two to iron out the details. I’m beat.”
While Mom stood and slowly worked her way down the hall toward her bedroom, Skye tried to offer Connor the sippy cup, but he pushed her hand away and reached for more of his snack. She sighed and left the cup on the table before circling around to her chair and the calendar she’d abandoned earlier. “Aunt Linda just texted me and said she’d help in a pinch, so I have the next few days covered. How soon can you start?”
“How about next week?”
She hesitated, then picked up her pencil. “Sure, next week is...fine. Is one to five in the afternoon okay?”
“Sounds great.”
She wrote his name and the time on the calendar. “And how about after that?”
“How far out would you like to schedule?”
Her stomach churned as her pencil hovered over the calendar. Were they really doing this? Had she just agreed to let Gage watch Connor as often as he wanted? “H-how about Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoons from one to five for now?”
“Perfect.” She heard the smile in his voice and dragged her gaze to meet his. She wasn’t at all prepared for the gratitude she’d find in those gold-flecked eyes.
“Thank you for giving me a chance to honor my word.” His voice was gritty, emotional this time. “I won’t let you down.”
“Good.” Uncertainty still weighed heavily as she quickly looked away and wrote his name on the dates they’d agreed on. A chance to honor his word? Yes. Not a permanent place in their lives, though. Sure, he’d looked super attractive holding Connor safely in his arms, but clearly it had muddled her thinking. No matter how much Gage’s attentiveness toward Connor tugged at her heartstrings, she had to maintain firm boundaries. Strong men like Gage only used their power to control women, and she wouldn’t allow herself to fall for him.
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