En route to the hospital, he hadn’t said much. But he’d glared at her and Sophie in the rearview mirror every few minutes until Jenna became convinced she’d somehow angered him. At the time, she’d been too tired and shaky to wonder about her roadside rescuer. Now she did.
“You were lucky he came along,” Nurse Wolf said. “Out here you can drive forever and not see a soul.”
She almost had.
“Yes, I owe him a debt of gratitude,” Jenna muttered, absently rubbing the side of her finger over Sophie’s delicate cheek. She’d never been indebted to anyone before, ever. People were indebted to the Carringtons, not the other way around, but the cowboy, a total stranger, had been there for her and her baby when they’d had no one else. She wasn’t likely to forget that.
“I’ll be back in a few,” the nurse said and started out the door.
“Nurse?”
The woman did an about-face. “It’s Crystal. Please.”
“Crystal,” Jenna said, oddly pleased at the simple request. “Would you mind bringing me a newspaper or two?”
“Nothing newsworthy ever happens around here except church dinners and baby showers and school sports, but I’ll bring you a paper.”
The simple activities sounded like heaven to Jenna who’d never experienced a single one of them. “Thank you.”
With a hand wave, Crystal sashayed out of the room, only to lean back into the room with a twinkle in her eye.
“Prepare yourself. A certain delicious cowboy is headed your way.”
Jenna was sure her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”
But Crystal had already disappeared, leaving the door open.
Dax kicked himself all the way down the hall. He had no idea what he was doing here. He’d done the right thing already. He’d played the good Samaritan. He should be on the south side of the ranch right now fixing a water gap before snow or rain made the work miserable. But here he was at Saddleback Hospital in the maternity ward, feeling as uncomfortable as if he’d stumbled into one of those ladies’ lingerie stores.
But he was here. Might as well get this over with.
Stetson in hand, he used the opposite hand to tap on the open door, doing his level best not to look inside until he was invited.
“Come in,” a feminine voice said. He remembered that voice. Soft and educated and worried. He’d dreamed about it last night. Imagine that. Dreaming about a woman’s voice. And her bare feet. And the way she’d gazed at him with trust.
Blast it. That’s why he was here. She’d haunted his dreams and he’d not been able to get a thing done this morning until he was certain she and her baby were in good shape.
According to the desk nurse the baby he’d delivered was doing well. Thank God. That should have been enough. He should have turned tail and headed for his truck.
But no. He had to see for himself that the brave young woman with the fancy voice was okay.
With a final inward kick, he stepped into the room.
His eyes went straight to the bed. Fluffed up in white sheets, the little mama looked small and flushed. But good. Real good.
Her dark blond hair, sweaty and uncombed yesterday, was clean and neatly brushed and lay across her shoulders in a soft wave. She was prettier than he’d thought. Her thin face was blessed with long doe-shaped eyes the color of pancake syrup and a mouth that tipped up at the corners.
The thing that really drew his attention was the bundle nestled against her breast. A small eggshaped head covered with a pink stocking cap protruded from a matching pink blanket. He could see the curve of the baby’s cheek, the tiny button nose, the rise and fall of her body as she breathed. Thank God she was breathing smooth and even now.
He allowed himself to breathe, as well, aware that he hadn’t quite believed the child would be alive.
The little mama saw the direction of his gaze and looked down at her baby with an expression that punched Dax in the gut. Mother love radiated from her. The kind Gavin had never known.
His admiration for the girl-woman, whatever she was, went up another notch. She loved her baby. She’d be a good mama.
He shifted, heard the scratchy sound of his boots against tile. What now? He’d seen what he came for. Could he just turn around and walk out?
“Would you like to see her?”
The words startled him, breaking through his thoughts of escape. Crushing the brim of his hat between tense fingers, he stepped closer to the bed and cleared the lump out of his throat. “She okay?”
“Perfect, thanks to you.” The doe eyes looked up at him, again with that expression of trust.
“What about you?”
Roses bloomed on her cheeks. “Very well. Again thanks to you.”
He’d embarrassed her, made her recall the liberties he’d taken with her body. He wanted to apologize, but he never seemed to know the right things to say to women.
“Would you like to hold her?” The little mama stretched the bundle in his direction. The blanket fell away from the baby’s face and Dax went all mushy inside. He remembered how Gavin had looked those first few days. All squished and out of shape but so innocent Dax had fallen in instant, overpowering love.
Dax stepped away from the bed. “No.”
He’d been to the feed store earlier. He couldn’t be clean enough to hold a baby.
“Oh.” The little mama’s face fell. He felt like a jerk, but didn’t figure it mattered. Once he was out of here, he’d never see her again.
“Sophie and I are grateful for everything you did.”
“Sophie? Pretty.”
“I thought so. Sophie Joy.”
Feeling oversize, out of place and like a complete idiot, Dax nodded. “I gotta get back to the ranch. Just wanted to check on you.”
“I appreciate it.” She reached out a slender hand and touched his arm. Even through the longsleeved jacket, Dax imagined the heat and pressure of her fingers seeping into his bloodstream. His mind went to the softness of the skin on her bare feet. She was probably silky all over.
Something inside him reacted like a wild stallion. He jerked away. What the devil business did he have feeling attracted to a new mother, a woman young enough to be his.. .well, his niece or something. She was a kid. A kid. And he was a dirty old man.
Without another word, he spun away and hurried out the door, down the hall and out into the gray November where the Texas wind could slap some sense into him.
CHAPTER THREE
