He raised his eyebrows. ‘Watch it. According to her, her family were amongst the original Dutch settlers. And I don’t think she’s quite six hundred years old. She’s as sharp as a stick, and she hasn’t aged in the past twenty-five years.’ He gave her a wink as he switched off the burner. ‘Maybe you should ask her what cream she uses.’
Carrie picked up an unopened packet of pacifiers and tossed them at his head. They bounced off the wall behind him.
‘Careful, careful, we’ve got a baby in the apartment. We don’t want anything to hit him.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘On second thought, it’s getting kind of late. Maybe it’s too late to go knocking on Mrs Van Dyke’s door.’ His gaze was still fixed on the baby, lying on the floor, grizzling impatiently for his milk.
Carrie folded her arms as she stood next to him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Mrs Van Dyke is up watching TV until four a.m. most nights. And I take it she’s getting a little deaf, because I can’t get to sleep in my apartment because of the Diagnosis Murder or Murder, She Wrote reruns that I hear booming across the hall. Seriously, the woman needs a hearing aid.’
‘And seriously? She’ll be far too proud to get one.’
There was something nice about that. The fact that he knew his elderly neighbour so well that he could tell exactly why she didn’t have a hearing aid. ‘So what was wrong with me, then?’ She couldn’t help it. The words just spilled out.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You obviously know your other neighbours well, but it was too much trouble to even say hello to me in the foyer.’
The colour flooded into his cheeks. Unflappable Dan was finally flapping. He could deal with a tonne of snow falling from a roof, he could deal with a baby dumped on his doorstep, but this? This was making him avert his eyes and struggle to find some words.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just assumed you were staying for only a few days. Most of the others seemed like ships that pass in the night.’
‘I’ve been here two months, Dan. Eight long weeks—’ she let out a little sigh ‘—and to be honest, this isn’t the friendliest place I’ve ever stayed.’
He cringed. ‘I can hear my grandmother shouting in my ear right now. Shaming me on my bad manners. I did see you—but you always looked like you had a hundred and one things on your mind. You never really looked in the mood to talk.’
This time Carrie felt like cringing. There was a reason Dan was a cop. He was good at reading people. Good at getting to the heart of the matter. And she had only herself to blame for this, because it was she who’d called him on his behaviour.
She gave a little shrug, trying to brush it off. ‘Maybe a cheery good morning would have been enough.’
She walked over and lifted the pot, tipping the boiling water into the sink.
He appeared at her back, his chin practically resting on her shoulder, as he lifted the plastic bottles and teats out onto the worktop with a clean dish towel. ‘You’re right, Carrie. You’re absolutely right. I should have said hello. I should have said good morning.’
She turned her head slightly. He wasn’t quite touching her, but she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She wanted to step away, to jerk backwards, but her body wasn’t letting her.
Her lips were curving into a smile—even though she was telling them not to—as she stared into those brown eyes again. It was nice. Being up close to someone again. His lips were only inches from hers. She wondered if he was having the same kind of thoughts she was. The kind of thoughts that made her forget there was a baby in the room...until he let out an angry wail from the floor.
They jumped back, both at the same time. She reached for one of the cartons. ‘Do you have a pair of scissors?’
He opened a drawer, pulled out the scissors, snipped the edge of the carton and upended the contents into one of the cooled bottles. Carrie picked up one of the teats by the edge of its rim and placed it on the bottle, screwing it in place with the retaining ring.
The bottle sat on the middle of the counter and they stared at each other for a few seconds.
‘Don’t we need to heat the milk up now?’
She shook her head. ‘According to the internet, room temperature is fine.’
‘Oh, okay.’
Silence. And some deep breathing, followed by a whole host of screams from the floor. It was like a Mexican stand-off.
‘So, who is going to do this?’
‘You. Definitely you.’
‘But what if I do it wrong?’
‘What if I do it wrong? Don’t you dare suggest that I can do it better because I’m a girl.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, I’d never refer to you as a girl.’
‘Stop it. He’s mad. Just feed him.’ She opened one of the kitchen drawers and handed him a dish towel. ‘Here, put this over you.’
‘What do I need that for?’
‘In case he pukes on you.’
‘Ewww...’
Dan picked up the bottle, holding it between his hands as if it were a medical specimen. He squinted at the markings on the side of the bottle. ‘How much do I give him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, look it up on the internet while I start.’
Relief. Instant relief. She wasn’t going to be left to feed the baby. She could sit on the other side of the room and do a search on the computer.
Dan picked up the baby from the floor and settled him on his lap, resting him in the crook of his arm that had his cast in place. He held the bottle with his other hand and brushed the teat against the baby’s cheek.
There were some angry noises, and some whimpering, before finally the baby managed to latch on to the teat and suck—furiously.
Carrie was holding her breath on the other side of the room, watching with a fist clenched around her heart. A baby’s first feed.
One of those little moments. The little moments that a parent should share with a child.
Daniel seemed equally transfixed. He glanced over at her. ‘Wow. Just wow. Look at him go. He’s starving.’
And he was. His little cheeks showed he was sucking furiously. But it was Dan who had her attention. The rapt look on his face, and the way the little body seemed to fit so easily, so snugly against his frame.
Her mouth was dry and the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck. Worse than that, she could feel the tears pooling around her eyes again.
What was wrong with her? This had nothing to do with her. Nothing to do with her situation. She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She shouldn’t
