But she knew from firsthand experience that sometimes things happened. Sometimes mothers didn’t come back. Or fathers, either. Yearning for what could never be spasmed inside her, like a hunger that could never be satisfied.
“Come on, Rachel. Be realistic. There’s a story on the news almost every night about a baby abandoned, sometimes in a Dumpster.”
“Holly didn’t do that. She arranged for me to care for her baby until she comes back.”
“If she comes back.”
She would, Rachel thought. She was almost sure of it. “Holly didn’t just run off without a word. She was breastfeeding and waited to do this as long as she could—until the baby had received the benefits of breast milk.”
“If she’d stayed, Emma would still be receiving the benefits,” he said.
“I’m not saying it’s an ideal situation. But a lot of working mothers wean their infants because they have to return to work.”
Jake folded his arms over his chest. “Sugarcoat it all you want, Rachel. She’s irresponsible.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“And I’ve got another one. It’s weird for an attractive, single woman to turn her life upside down for a teenager’s baby.”
“So if I was an unattractive woman it would be okay?” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s not like I’m going to adopt Emma. This is just for a few weeks. So unless I hear differently, I intend to keep my promise. When Holly comes back, her baby will be here waiting for her.”
Something told Rachel that Jake would be waiting, too. He was Emma’s biological uncle and frustration seemed to be rolling off him in tangible waves. On the one hand, she understood Holly’s concerns about Jake’s tendency to take control. On the other, Rachel had to give him credit for getting involved. How many men would so aggressively seek out the burden of a newborn? She couldn’t decide if he was concerned, caring or just plain crazy.
But in this regard Jake was certainly different from the men she normally met. Rachel knew her fatal flaw was her inability to turn away from someone in need. She had no illusions. No good deed went unpunished.
“So we’re at an impasse,” he said.
“Unless you decide to muscle your way past me and forcibly take Emma.”
“I’m not in the habit of manhandling women.”
A discreet look at his broad chest made her wonder what he was in the habit of doing with women. That thought sent an unwilling shiver over her arms.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said.
“Well you won’t be glad to hear that I intend to stop your interference.”
“Why can’t you just relax and let Holly and Dan do this their way?”
“If you would give me the baby, I’d be happy to relax. But since you refuse, I’ll go to plan B.”
“That’s the one where you bulldoze everyone to get what you want.” She nodded. “I’ll consider myself warned. And you know the way out.”
He touched the brim of his hat in what was probably an automatic, ingrained polite gesture. Then he walked out of her apartment. After turning the deadbolt and fitting the chain lock securely across the door, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief.
Jake had voiced her worst fear—what if Holly didn’t come back? Rachel decided to be an optimist. No one knew better than she that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. But unless she had evidence to the contrary, she planned to keep the baby healthy and happy until she could put her back into her mother’s arms.
In a perfect world, Holly and Dan would decide to get married, make a home for their baby and live happily ever after. But life wasn’t a fairy tale. She shivered as the thought reminded her yet again of February 29 in New Orleans. They had joked about the scenario calling for three wishes, and they’d each had one.
If the situation she found herself in truly was a result of her birthday wish, she could only be grateful she hadn’t had two more of her very own. She could be in three times as much trouble.
She tiptoed down the hall to check on the sleeping baby. Rachel smiled tenderly as she looked in the crib. Somehow, even on her back Emma had scooched her way straight up into the corner, her head butted up against the bumper pad. Touching the downy head and tiny fist with one finger, Rachel’s heart contracted. Feelings as big as the wide open spaces of Texas expanded inside her.
“You’re not trouble, little one,” she whispered. “You’re nothing but a blessing. It’s your uncle who’s a pain in the posterior.”
And not only because he was going to throw his weight around.
Three days later, Jake walked into The Fast Lane, Sweet Spring’s bowling alley coffee shop, with the newspaper under his arm. He sat down in his usual booth, then stared at the tufted red Naugahyde seat across from him. It hit him suddenly that he’d never noticed the color or the tufting before. Because usually Dan sat across from him. They came here for dinner often.
Sally Jean Simmons sidled up to him, order pad and pencil in hand. “Hey, Jake. How’s it goin’?”
He looked up at the tall, pretty brunette. “Okay. How about you? How’s that boy of yours? He’s what now? Five? Six?”
“Seven,” she said smiling. “He’s doin’ great, thanks.” She glanced at the empty seat across from him. “Where’s Dan tonight?”
Jake felt the knot in his gut pull tighter. “He made other plans.”
And didn’t see fit to share them with me, he silently added. Every time he thought about his brother taking off without saying a word to him, he got mad all over again.
“Look on the bright side,” Sally said, studying him. “Table for one will ease the strain on your wallet. The way that boy can pack away food is scary. I’m not looking forward to footin’ the bills when my little guy takes a growth spurt like Dan has. What can I get you tonight?”
“Coffee for starters,” he said. “And a menu.”
“Since when do you need a menu?” she asked. “It hasn’t changed in the five years I’ve been working here and you know that sucker by heart.”
He shrugged. “Just thought looking at it might help me make up my mind.”
“Comin’ right up.” Her hips swayed as she walked away.
Jake noted her curvy figure covered in tight worn denim and an equally snug T-shirt with The Fast Lane printed on the back. A vision of spiky blond hair, big brown eyes and a body dressed in sunbeam yellow flashed into his mind. It had been several days since he’d seen Rachel Manning, but she was never far from his thoughts. Partly because she was a damned attractive woman. And partly because today Little Miss Muffet was probably sorry she’d gotten between him and his family.
Behind him, the bell over the door rang as it was opened, then dinged again when it shut. He moved his napkin-wrapped eating utensils aside, then unfolded his newspaper and spread it on the Formica table in front of him. A moment later he smelled perfume and sensed someone standing beside him.
“Jake, we need to talk.”
Rachel. He braced himself, but not enough. When he looked up, his gut pulled tight again, but not from anger, annoyance or regret. It was plain old-fashioned appreciation for a beautiful woman.
“Rachel,” he said.
She was wearing shorts that flared a bit at her thighs and a tank top made out of T-shirt material with skinny straps that curved over her tanned shoulders. Her hair was combed this time in a deliberately mussed style that looked like a man had just run his fingers through it. The circles beneath her eyes were deeper and