Gavin, sitting beside the incubator, a blanket-wrapped baby Ava cuddled gently in his arms. The tiny infant had a pink cap on her head, a nasal cannula still assisting her breathing, monitors that measured her heartbeat and breathing visible beneath the soft white blanket that surrounded her.
Her eyes were shut and she appeared to be sleeping.
Violet could hardly blame her.
To be held against that strong, warm chest, cradled so tenderly by those brawny arms...
Violet grabbed a sterile gown, put it on over her clothes and slipped into the small, dimly lit visiting room behind the glass window.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Gavin looked up at her. “The nurses wanted me to hold her for a little bit.”
She ambled closer. “I can see that.”
The tenderness in his expression made him all the more handsome. “I have to admit, I never really understood why the parents of premature infants were so loath to leave the nursery and head home to rest.”
She nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. “But you get it now.”
He shot her a knowing grin. “You should give it a try.”
“I don’t want to interrupt...”
He stood and gestured toward the comfortable recliner-rocker he’d been sitting in.
Unable to summon a reason why she shouldn’t start fulfilling her duties as temporary guardian, too, Violet took his place in the seat that still held his warmth. And the enticing soap-and-man scent of his skin.
Gently, he transferred Ava to her arms.
The preemie was incredibly light and fragile, at just a little more than four pounds. As Violet looked down at Ava, a wave of tenderness unlike anything she had ever felt swept through her.
Gavin pulled another chair up to sit beside Violet. Together, they watched the sleeping baby. Neither speaking. Barely moving. Yet united just the same.
Who knew how long they would have stayed that way had Bridgette, the nurse on duty, not come in to reluctantly interrupt. “It’s time to put Ava back in the warmer. But if you’d like to come back later this evening to help us try to get her started on drinking formula from a bottle, that would be great.”
Gavin and Violet exchanged looks. “I’ll be here,” Violet said.
To her surprise Gavin said gruffly, “So will I.”
Bridgette nodded, accepting the news with the same equanimity she accepted the infant. Bridgette looked at her big brother. “Would you mind hanging around for a moment? I really need to talk to you about Nicholas. And, Violet, if you’ve got a moment, I’d like your opinion, too.”
* * *
AS SOON AS Ava was settled, Bridgette told her coworkers she was taking her break.
The three of them headed for the staff lounge, which was blissfully empty. Although not sure what she might have to contribute in what seemed to be a Monroe family matter, Violet was glad to be of assistance in any way that she could.
Violet and Gavin both got coffee, while Bridgette grabbed a bottle of water. “Nicholas rented a car and went back to Austin this morning,” she said.
“That’s good,” Gavin said.
Bridgette took a seat on the sofa. Violet settled opposite her, and Gavin sank down beside her, close enough she was aware of his steady male presence but not close enough to be touching.
His sister looked worried. “I’m not so sure. He hasn’t been the same since the accident.”
Gavin’s brow furrowed. “Medically?”
“Emotionally,” Bridgette corrected. “Swerving to avoid running over that deer changed him. He said he saw his life flash before his eyes. And he didn’t like what he saw. So far, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin chided.
“I don’t know. But I have this uneasy sense that he’s planning something.” Bridgette turned to Violet. “You have a lot of experience with young adult patients coming close to the brink, then recovering and trying to resume a normal life. Does that seem like a common reaction to you?”
Reluctantly, Violet admitted, “If something’s brewing in a person, yes, it usually erupts under the stress.” As it had with Sterling.
Gavin turned to her, his shoulder nudging hers in the process. “What should we do?”
What I didn’t, Violet thought before she answered.
“Listen to whatever your brother has to say. And take Nicholas seriously—even if it seems like he’s coming out of left field.”
Gavin promised Bridgette, “I’ll give him a call later this evening...see if he’ll tell me what’s on his mind.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Bridgette said, standing.
The three of them said goodbye and Bridgette went back to work. Gavin and Violet left the staff lounge.
“So what now?” Gavin said as they walked toward the elevator.
Violet hated to admit just how at loose ends she was. After five years of residency, never having a moment to spare, this barely working at all would get old fast. Even if she was still trying to figure out what the next phase of her life held.
She punched the down button. “As far as work goes, I’m still waiting on the results of Carlson Willoughby’s tests, but otherwise I’m not on call today so—” Violet’s phone vibrated.
When she looked at the screen, there was an email from her sister. Reading it quickly, Violet groaned.
“Problem?” Gavin asked, rocking forward on his toes and hooking his thumbs through the denim loops on either side of his fly.
The elevator arrived and the door opened. It was a little crowded, so they had no choice but to squeeze together to avoid stepping on other passengers.
The warmth of his body sent a new flood of desire through her. “Poppy is going to set me up with a movable wardrobe system, but I’m going to have to drive to a store in San Angelo to pick up the components.”
The elevator opened up on the lobby. “Will you be able to fit it all in your SUV?”
Violet hesitated, unsure.
Gavin gestured gallantly. “My truck is available. As am I.”
Was he hitting on her? Or just being helpful? Hard to tell. “You’d really want to do that on your day off?”
His grin widened. “Sure. If you buy me lunch first.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I take it you have a place in mind.”
He fell into step beside her as they headed outside into the gloomy autumn day. “I do.”
To ensure they would be able to cart everything back to Laramie, they drove separately and ended up at a popular Mexican restaurant in San Angelo. Violet ordered the enchiladas supreme and he followed suit.
“I didn’t know you were a fan of enchiladas,” she teased as they dug in to their combination plate of chicken, cheese, beef and bean enchiladas, accompanied by a side of Mexican rice.
“I’m trying to expand my horizons.”
“Away from steak fajitas?” Which, she knew, from attending the same hospital staff luncheons for the past five years, happened to be