Lone Rider Bodyguard. Harper Allen
only one place you’re going to be able to see if it’s happening, a caustic voice inside his head said. Stop warming the bench and get into the game here.
Tye hunkered down at the side of the vehicle, and not a moment too soon, he immediately realized. Crowning meant he was the first human being to lay eyes on this new little person who was emerging into the world.
“Aahh!!”
The guttural cry sounded as if it was being wrenched from Susannah’s throat. She’d propped herself up on her elbows, her head thrown back and every tendon in her neck standing out in rigid relief. She cried again, and he could see the agony etched on her contorted features.
“You’re doing fine, Suze,” he rasped, knowing as he spoke how inadequate his words were. “You’re doing great. Keep pushing, honey.”
About to check on the baby’s progress again, out of the corner of his eye he saw a large, cream-colored blur speed by. Where did that come from? he thought in sharp alarm, flicking an automatic glance at the revolver on the floor. The Cadillac receded into the distance without slowing, and he frowned.
She’d been a woman alone on the road, in an unreliable vehicle and with a baby due any time. She might have glimpsed the same car at different gas stations along the way, and out of that concocted a fearful scenario that had grown bigger in her mind with each passing mile. When she’d been at her most vulnerable he’d come along—a jeans-and-leather-clad—
His heart stopped. It started up again, crashing so hard against his ribs it felt as if it was trying to escape.
“His head’s out, Suze,” he said hoarsely. Without conscious thought, he put a swift hand beneath the small skull to support it, just as he heard another incoherent cry issue from her throat.
When he’d been fifteen he’d broken his leg wiping out in a curve on a borrowed motorcycle without a license. During his year at the Double B Ranch he’d been thrown from Chorizo, a hammer-headed Appaloosa gelding Hawkins had expressly forbidden them to ride. Last year he’d taken a bullet in the ribs.
He’d figured he knew what endurance was. But he was a male. He had no idea what toughing it out meant, Tye realized now.
The baby was coming out on its side. Instinctively he lowered the fragile head a fraction, and an incredibly tiny shoulder popped into view. Again acting on instinct and hoping desperately that his instincts were right, he raised his supporting hands slightly.
The bottom shoulder emerged, so suddenly that for one frantic moment his cautious hold almost slipped.
“Turn—turn him on his back,” Susannah gasped. “Bag. Swabs. His nose—”
The little sucker was slippery, Tye thought disjointedly. This was like trying to hang on to a wet football in the rain, and one-handed it was even harder. Groping around in the bag by his feet, his fingers came into contact with a package.
“Cotton swabs,” he muttered. “Touchdown.”
There was some kind of gunk in the little guy’s nose and in the tiny mouth. Presumably the gunk had to come out.
“Of course, you could be a girl,” he said under his breath. He willed his hand to stop shaking, and swabbed at the minute, perfectly-formed nostrils, the goldfish lips. “If you are, no offense, okay? But until we know for sure I’m going to think of you as a—”
“Granny Lacey, help me!”
Even as he heard Susannah’s high-pitched plea to a woman who wasn’t there, Tye felt the small body slide completely into his hands, and frantically he adjusted his hold on—on him, he thought, feeling a grin spreading across his features. It was a boy. They’d had a boy!
“He looks just like me,” he said stupidly. “Just like me, Suze.” He met her pain-sheened gaze, unable to stop smiling despite the moisture he could feel prickling at the back of his eyes. “I mean he’s a boy,” he amended. “We—you’ve got a brand-new baby boy.”
“Is he breathing okay, Tye?” Concern overrode the fatigue in her tone. “Rub his back.”
Apparently it wasn’t like the movies. You didn’t introduce them to the world with a hearty slap on the rump. With infinite care he rubbed the little back and the crumpled lips pursed out, as if they were trying to blow a bubble. The miniscule eyelids squeezed even more tightly shut. A weak cry, more like the mew of a kitten than anything else, came from those crumpled lips.
In the space of a heartbeat—a skipped heartbeat, Tye thought shakily—the kitten-cry became an outraged squall that seemed far too big to have come from such a tiny body.
“Oh, Tye, let me hold him.”
Susannah was propped against the back of the car seat, her arms outstretched. Carefully he leaned forward and placed the small squirming body against her opened bodice before standing back and looking down at them.
Her hair hung in strands, her face was still red from her exertions and her bottom lip had either split slightly or she’d sunk her teeth in too deeply and bitten it at some time during the past hour. The cherry-strewn dress would never be presentable again.
She was so beautiful she took his breath away.
Those hazel-gold eyes were luminous with joy as she looked upon her new son for the first time. With no self-consciousness at all, tenderly she shifted the baby in her arms to her breast. As if a switch had been turned off, the crying stopped…and suddenly everything fell into place.
This was what it all came down to, Tye thought—a mother, a baby and a man watching over them. Why hadn’t he ever figured it out before?
“I got sterile thread to tie off the cord when the afterbirth comes out,” Susannah murmured, not taking her gaze from her son. “But Granny Lacey always said it was best to wait. Isn’t he perfect, Tye? Isn’t he just the most perfect baby you ever saw?”
“He’s better than perfect, Suze.”
When had he started calling her that and when had she started calling him Tye? he wondered, before dismissing the question. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that it seemed right. Despite the fact that they’d barely touched, he’d never felt closer to any woman in his life.
No ring on her finger doesn’t mean she’s not married.
A second ago he’d felt as if he’d just drunk a whole bottle of champagne. His euphoria came crashing down to earth.
He was a stranger who’d happened to be passing by, and the bond he’d thought he sensed between them was all in his imagination. This baby was some other man’s son.
“I’m going to name him Daniel, after my daddy.” Her voice was ragged with exhaustion. “I’d like his middle name to be Tyler, if that’s all right with you. I figure you’re a big part of why he’s here in my arms, safe and sound.”
For a moment Tye couldn’t say a word. Then he pulled himself together.
“His father had a bigger part, Susannah. I’m sure he wouldn’t want his son bearing a stranger’s name instead of his own.”
“His father’s dead. And since everything else he told me was a lie, I can’t even be sure the name I knew him by was real.”
She looked away, but not before he saw a shadow cross her features. “I didn’t shame myself with Frank Barrett,” she said softly. “We were married. But even if he’d lived, I know now he wasn’t the type to raise a child—maybe because inside he’d never really grown up himself. I want my son to be proud of the name he bears.”
She raised her eyes to his. “My daddy was a man,” she said simply. “He stood up for what he believed in, he would have given his life for the ones he loved and whenever he had to make a choice between taking the easy way out or doing what he thought was right, he went with his conscience. I think you’re the same kind. I’d take it as a honor if you let me name this little one Daniel Tyler