“You wouldn’t know it by the way he’s eating, but I promise we feed him on a regular basis. Or at least we try to.” Mrs. Tomlinson scraped her own bowl clean. “Maybe you’re our secret weapon, Gage.”
“I don’t know about that.” Gage speared a bite of meat with his fork. “He’s definitely got an appetite tonight.”
A few minutes later, Connor shoved the chunks of carrots aside and rubbed his eyes with his fist.
“Yikes.” Skye pushed back her chair. “I think he’s about to melt down. Let me get him cleaned up before he rubs food in his hair.”
“Is that usually what happens?” Gage asked.
“Sometimes.” Mrs. Tomlinson chuckled. “We’re not always great at figuring out when he’s had enough.”
Skye returned from the sink with a dishcloth in her hand. “I hadn’t planned on giving him a bath tonight.” She quickly wiped his fingers and his face while he did his best to squirm away.
Gage stifled a laugh. This kid had a strong will. Reminded him a lot of Ryan. The comparison felt like a gut punch, and his amusement vanished.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Tomlinson reached over and patted Gage’s arm. “You look sad all of a sudden.”
How much to share? He’d already told Skye he wanted to be involved in Connor’s life. Gage rubbed his fingertips along his jaw. “I hate that Ryan didn’t get a chance to meet his son, you know?”
Mrs. Tomlinson’s eyes filled with empathy. “We wish things were different, too. I’m sure Skye told you we don’t know if McKenna will return. Maybe God brought you into our lives for a reason.”
“Mom—” Skye shot her mother a warning glance.
“It’s true, whether you choose to believe it or not.” Mrs. Tomlinson frowned at her daughter. “We don’t know if she’ll come back. What if she doesn’t? Gage’s connection to Connor’s father isn’t a coincidence.”
Skye lowered Connor to the floor. He quickly crawled across the carpet to the toys he’d played with before dinner.
Gage tried to assess Skye’s reaction to her mother’s feelings. She seemed like she had a lot going on in her life. He didn’t dare ask, but did she really plan on caring for Connor on her own if his mother wasn’t willing or able to care for him?
“Like I said yesterday, I’m finishing my certification through the wind energy technician program at the community college. I’ll start the hands-on training soon, and until I’m placed in a full-time position, I have a flexible schedule.”
“See?” Mrs. Tomlinson beamed at her daughter. “A flexible schedule. That’s exactly what we need.”
Skye sank into her chair. Uncertainty was written all over her face. She sighed. “Can you come over tomorrow afternoon? From three to five thirty?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. I’ll leave a list of instructions for you. Mom will be here, too, just in case.”
Gage ducked his head and suppressed a smile. Her subtext was not lost on him. Just in case you’re a lousy babysitter.
“Now that we have that worked out, how about dessert?” Mrs. Tomlinson asked.
“I think I’ll pass.” Gage pushed back his chair and stood. “I still have some unpacking to do, and a test to study for.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mrs. Tomlinson frowned. “Would you like to take some brownies home? Or maybe the leftover stew?”
“No, thank you.” He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Skye’s body language indicated she wasn’t thrilled about what just happened, and he wanted to go before she changed her mind about tomorrow. “It was delicious, though.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Skye crossed to the front door, pausing to pick Connor up and wedge him on her hip. He immediately gave her a sleepy smile and grabbed a chunk of her ponytail in his chubby fist.
She gently extracted her hair from Connor’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Gage looked away and jammed his feet into his boots. So she wasn’t a total ice queen. Maybe she was too stressed and overwhelmed. Or just not a fan of him dropping into her life unannounced? She’d mentioned her concerns about someone calling social services. Did she think he was going to try to take Connor from her?
Something told him now was not the time to offer reassurances. He put on his jacket and paused, one hand on the doorknob, and dared to look at her one more time. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”
“Don’t let me down.”
Wow. Okay. “See you soon.”
“Good night.”
He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him. Staring up into the night sky, his breath puffing in little white clouds, he silently offered a prayer for guidance.
I’m off to a shaky start here, Lord.
When he set out to find McKenna and her baby, he never anticipated meeting Skye. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore his initial attraction to her. Not that it mattered. She was downright frigid tonight and clearly didn’t like strangers, no matter how honorable their intentions. She’d probably only asked for his help because her mom coaxed her and she was desperate. But he couldn’t let her attitude discourage him. He owed it to Ryan to keep his promise.
Please, please let this be the one.
Skye folded her hands behind her back and pasted on a polite smile. Her customers, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, circled the eight-piece dining room set in the furniture’s showroom for the third time, their brows furrowed.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Mr. Crawford clapped his hand on his wife’s shoulder, while he jangled his loose change with his hand in his other pocket. Skye held her breath, waiting for Mrs. Crawford to answer.
“I just can’t make up my mind. Do you think we can all fit around it for Easter? We’re hosting this year.”
Yes, of course. Skye dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from blurting out a response. She’d actually never visited the Crawfords’ home and had no idea how much space they had in their dining room, but the store’s dismal sales—almost nonexistent this month—could really use a boost.
“It might be a tight squeeze, especially with the credenza, too, but I’m sure we can make it work.” Mr. Crawford gave Skye a reassuring smile, the lines on his weathered face crinkling around his eyes.
She widened her smile, while the tension between her shoulders knotted tighter. Mrs. Crawford did not seem convinced.
“We really love the bedroom set we purchased from your daddy some years ago,” Mrs. Crawford said, running her hand over the oak tabletop. “Now that our son and his wife moved to Fort Collins and took our dining room table and chairs, I’d really like something that will accommodate him and his wife, and of course, any future grandchildren, if our daughter ever gets married...” She trailed off and stepped back as if to gain a better perspective.
“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your