“Is she your baby, or have you adopted her?”
That question brought Abby up short. Then again she supposed she shouldn’t be startled to learn that he thought she might be Cara’s birth mother. She could have had several children in the years since they’d parted.
So could he.
But she didn’t think that was the case. In fact, if he were to confess to becoming a father during those same years, she knew it would amaze her every bit as much as his statement that he hadn’t missed being able to fly.
No, she was the one who had taken on the role of parent. Or, rather, fate had given it to her.
“Cara is the only child of a couple I considered two of my best friends,” Abby explained. “I met Elena, Cara’s mother, in college. Elena had huge dark eyes, mounds of curly black hair, and more than her share of ambition. She moved to the Phoenix area after we graduated and made her mark in the business world before marrying. Like Elena, her husband was a product of the foster-care system and had to overcome some real challenges in order to succeed in life. After I moved to Phoenix myself several years ago, I saw them on a regular basis, and they asked if they could name me as Cara’s guardian in the event anything happened to them. I agreed, although none of us expected anything to happen, not as young as they were. But it did.” Abby’s sigh was long and heartfelt. “They lost their lives in a boating accident on Lake Pleasant when Cara was nine months old.”
“That’s tough,” Ryan said soberly.
“Yes,” she agreed, her voice quiet. “Since then I’ve started formal adoption proceedings, which should go smoothly, given that her parents offered me that choice in their wills.”
Abby got up and rinsed her cup in the sink, then turned back to the man still seated at the table. A man who looked entirely too good with his shirt hanging open and his bare feet sticking out from the table. A man who had always looked too good for his own good. And hers.
“So you and the kid are going back to Phoenix?” Ryan said, echoing the casual tone she’d aimed for earlier. Something made her wonder if it was as bogus as hers had been.
“At the end of the month,” she replied.
“I suppose you have a job there?”
“I did until recently.” Abby leaned against the counter. “I was an assistant manager at a major resort hotel, but that didn’t leave enough time or energy to deal with my new responsibilities, and I decided Cara came first.”
He lifted his beer for another swallow. “So you plan on being a full-time mother?”
“For the moment. I can work part-time in a less demanding job when she’s a little older and I’m sure she’s settled.” Abby’s lips curved gently. “We had some hurdles to cross during our first months together, but we both came through fine.”
“Well, that baby may have me mixed up with somebody’s granddaddy, but she looks healthy enough,” Ryan allowed. “Maybe you should get her eyesight checked, though.”
Abby swallowed a laugh. “I think her eyes are fine. And as for the rest of her, she has a handsome pediatrician who plans to make sure she stays healthy.”
As if he’d sensed something in that last comment, Ryan slowly straightened in his chair. “Dedicated man?” he asked, lifting a brow.
“Definitely.”
Abby pushed away from the counter and started for the door to the hall. She knew she didn’t need to expand on that, knew it was none of Ryan Larabee’s business what she planned on doing with her life, knew she’d probably be better off just going back to bed and leaving him without another word. None of that stopped her from halting in the doorway and aiming a look over her shoulder. She simply couldn’t resist.
“Not only dedicated,” she added with determined good cheer, “but excellent father material. That’s why I had to seriously consider his offer when he asked me to marry him.”
Ryan stilled completely. His gaze locked with hers. “What,” he asked softly, “did you tell him?”
“I said yes.”
WELL, SO WHAT if she planned on marrying a baby doctor? It was none of his concern, Ryan reminded himself as he made his way back to the kitchen the following morning. He had plenty of his own concerns, the chief one being the need for something to jump-start his system before he did a round of the daily exercises the physical therapist had recommended.
Another damned doctor type.
Ryan passed the dining room, currently empty except for the gracefully aging furniture taking up most of it, and found Everyone’s Favorite Grandmother in the kitchen, wearing another ruffled apron and humming what sounded like a classic rock-and-roll tune as she stood at the stove. Rock and roll? Nah, he decided as he stopped in the doorway. “I know it’s not quite breakfast time, but do you think I could beg a cup of coffee?”
Ethel turned and beamed a smile his way. “Well, of course, Ryan. Have a seat and I’ll pour it for you.”
“I can get it,” he said, pleased to note that the coffeemaker on the counter had already done its job. “Just point me in the direction of the cups.”
Ethel did, and he soon found himself seated at the kitchen table for the second time in a matter of hours. Unfortunately, Ryan thought, he hadn’t managed to get much sleep after his ex-wife had waltzed out and left him with her cheerful announcement ringing in the air.
I said yes.
“Are you hungry?”
He blinked. “What?”
“I just put some buttermilk biscuits in the oven,” Ethel told him. “How about a couple of farm-fresh eggs and homemade sausage to go with them?”
His stomach answered with a growl. Food had been the last thing on his mind, but the smells drifting his way from the stove had apparently changed things. “Sounds good,” he had to admit.
“I do love to cook for a man with a hearty appetite.”
His stomach rumbled one more time. “As it happens, Ethel, I think I can oblige you.”
He was forking up a helping of eggs scrambled to perfection when Abby walked in and came to a dead halt at the sight of him. The baby she held immediately flung a sturdy little arm covered by stretchy pink terry cloth in his direction.
“Pap!”
Ryan managed not to wince, barely. “Definitely need to get those eyes checked out,” he muttered under his breath.
“I think she has a crush on you,” Ethel teased.
“I think she has to eat her cereal,” Abby tossed in even as she resisted the urge to sigh, thinking that this man still looked entirely too good, even with his shirt buttoned and a full night’s growth of beard shading his jaw. She was thankful she had traded her nightgown and robe for a sage camp shirt and khaki slacks—not exactly business attire, but, nevertheless, far from intimate.
Right now, she didn’t need intimate.
“The little darling’s appetite is as hearty as our guest’s.” That was Ethel’s contention.
Abby could hardly disagree, since food was undeniably one of Cara’s priorities. With that in mind, it didn’t take her long to seat herself at the table with the baby in her lap. Then she settled into the job of feeding the small bundle of curiosity who, dark eyes wide with wonder, divided her attention between a quickly diminishing bowl of cereal and the man tackling his own meal with obvious enthusiasm.
Not that it was strictly routine for a visitor to be enjoying his breakfast in the kitchen, Abby reflected. Ordinarily guests were welcome to serve themselves in the dining room, where Ethel kept a lengthy oak sideboard well stocked with a variety of hot and cold dishes along