But she could maintain an emotional distance. She remembered motorcycle man and the flaming leather jacket. Any involvement with Cole would lead inevitably to that same conclusion.
She straightened her shoulders. I can control myself. I will control my emotions.
She opened the door and entered the front room. Cole was still sitting in the rocking chair. Without looking up, he said, “I think Goldie’s had enough milk.”
“How many ounces are left in the bottle?”
He held it up to look through the clear plastic. “Just a little bit at the bottom.”
“Did you burp her?”
“I do that by putting her on my shoulder, right?”
“Give me the baby,” she said.
When he transferred the swaddled infant to her, their hands touched. An electric thrill raced up her arm, and she tensed her muscles to cancel the effect.
He took a step back. His baggy gray sweatsuit didn’t hide the breadth of his shoulders, his slim torso or long legs. His gaze assessed her as though deciding how to proceed. Instead of speaking, he went to the front window and peered through the gap in the green-and-blue plaid curtains. “It’s still snowing hard.”
“This morning they predicted at least a foot of new snow.” A weather report wasn’t really what was on her mind.
“It’s mesmerizing. I didn’t actually see snow falling from the sky until I was nine years old.”
“Not so pretty when you’re caught in a blizzard.” She did a bouncy walk as she patted Goldie on the back.
“I never want to do that again.”
“Tomorrow morning, we shouldn’t have to walk too far. All we need to find is a working telephone.”
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