Jingle-Bell Baby. Линда Гуднайт
He allowed himself to breathe, as well, aware that he hadn’t quite believed the child would be alive.
The little mama saw the direction of his gaze and looked down at her baby with an expression that punched Dax in the gut. Mother love radiated from her. The kind Gavin had never known.
His admiration for the girl-woman, whatever she was, went up another notch. She loved her baby. She’d be a good mama.
He shifted, heard the scratchy sound of his boots against tile. What now? He’d seen what he came for. Could he just turn around and walk out?
“Would you like to see her?”
The words startled him, breaking through his thoughts of escape. Crushing the brim of his hat between tense fingers, he stepped closer to the bed and cleared the lump out of his throat. “She okay?”
“Perfect, thanks to you.” The doe eyes looked up at him, again with that expression of trust.
“What about you?”
Roses bloomed on her cheeks. “Very well. Again thanks to you.”
He’d embarrassed her, made her recall the liberties he’d taken with her body. He wanted to apologize, but he never seemed to know the right things to say to women.
“Would you like to hold her?” The little mama stretched the bundle in his direction. The blanket fell away from the baby’s face and Dax went all mushy inside. He remembered how Gavin had looked those first few days. All squished and out of shape but so innocent Dax had fallen in instant, overpowering love.
Dax stepped away from the bed. “No.”
He’d been to the feed store earlier. He couldn’t be clean enough to hold a baby.
“Oh.” The little mama’s face fell. He felt like a jerk, but didn’t figure it mattered. Once he was out of here, he’d never see her again.
“Sophie and I are grateful for everything you did.”
“Sophie? Pretty.”
“I thought so. Sophie Joy.”
Feeling oversize, out of place and like a complete idiot, Dax nodded. “I gotta get back to the ranch. Just wanted to check on you.”
“I appreciate it.” She reached out a slender hand and touched his arm. Even through the longsleeved jacket, Dax imagined the heat and pressure of her fingers seeping into his bloodstream. His mind went to the softness of the skin on her bare feet. She was probably silky all over.
Something inside him reacted like a wild stallion. He jerked away. What the devil business did he have feeling attracted to a new mother, a woman young enough to be his.. .well, his niece or something. She was a kid. A kid. And he was a dirty old man.
Without another word, he spun away and hurried out the door, down the hall and out into the gray November where the Texas wind could slap some sense into him.
CHAPTER THREE
STUNNED, JENNA STARED as the cowboy retreated, turning his trim, anvil-shaped back toward her before charging out of the room as if a pack of dogs was after him.
“I don’t think he likes us, Sophie,” she murmured. Though she couldn’t imagine why. He’d behaved the same way in the car yesterday, as though she’d angered him. Yet he’d helped her. And he’d come to visit her in the hospital.
“What a strange man.”
He’d left so fast, the scent of a very masculine cologne lingered in the room like a contrail. Were all Texas cowboys so…reticent? Well, it didn’t matter. She would likely never see the man again, and the truth was, Dax Coleman had saved her, saved Sophie, and she would be forever grateful.
Before she had time to ponder further, a woman entered the room. Dressed in a black pantsuit and white, round earbobs of the 1960s, the woman carried a clipboard and a stack of papers.
“I’m Alice Pernisky from the business office.” She rolled an over-the-bed table in front of Jenna. “Let’s put the baby in the bassinet while we take care of the paperwork.”
Her no-nonsense style brooked no argument, so Jenna did as she said. She was worried enough about completing these forms.
“Let’s take care of the birth certificate first.” The woman pushed a paper under her nose. “The doctor has filled in the basics, but we’ll need your complete information, your name, the father’s name, and of course—” she allowed a thin smile “—the name you’ve chosen for your baby.”
Heart thudding crazily, Jenna stared down at the form and wondered if falsifying a birth certificate was illegal. Ink pen hovering over the sheet, she considered long and hard.
After a few seconds, Alice Pernisky said, “My dear, if you don’t want to put the father’s name, that’s fine. Just take care of the rest. We see more of that kind of thing than we used to.”
Heat flushed from her toes to her head. They thought she was an unwed mother who had no idea who Sophie’s father was.
“My husband died,” she said, which was true, though Derek had been out of her life long before the car crash that killed him.
“I’m sorry,” Alice said automatically, although Jenna did not think the woman believed her.
Would people always assume the worst if she didn’t put Derek’s name on the birth certificate?
Of course they would. This document would follow Sophie all the days of her life. And Jenna would not do that to her daughter.
Taking a deep breath, Jenna bent to the form and began to write. After the divorce, her parents had insisted she return to Carrington and she’d gladly done so. Derek had humiliated her enough. But now, his name might be the one thing that could keep her and Sophie from being discovered.
If she was going to start her life anew with Sophie, she would do it correctly. She would lie only if she had to, and pray her family wouldn’t be able to trace her through hospital documents bearing only her married name.
As she handed over the form, another form appeared beneath. “Those are your release forms, your instructions on self-care, and of course your hospital bill. Do you have insurance we can file?”
Jenna gulped. Lie number one. “No.”
“How do you plan to take of this? We take check or credit card, of course, and if need be, we can set up a payment plan.”
“Cash. I’ll pay cash.”
The woman pulled back, startled. “Cash?”
“Yes.” Accessing her bank accounts or using her credit cards would be too easy to trace. Until she and Sophie were established and on their own, she would not even consider such a thing. Maybe never. Cash was the only way.
Jenna reached for her handbag, aware of how out-of-place the designer crocodile looked in the hands of a woman without health insurance. As she withdrew the funds from her wallet, she had the absurd thought that Alice might think she’d stolen the bag, along with the money. What if she called the police?
Jenna’s hand trembled as she counted out the correct amount and handed it over. She could feel the woman’s curious stare and almost hear the wheels turning in her head.
When the last paper was signed and the woman left the room, Jenna felt light-headed with relief. Before putting her purse aside so she could hold Sophie again, she counted the remaining bills in her wallet. A quiver of worry drew her brows together. Never in her life had she needed to consider money. A Carrington simply grew up knowing there was plenty. Discussing personal finance was considered vulgar.
But she was no longer a Carrington. She was no longer one of Pennsylvania’s old money debutantes with an endless supply of cash and credit cards. She was a single mother alone,