Nate’s response came out quickly, nearly sparking with enthusiasm. Then, as if catching himself, he added, “That is, if you want to.”
Actually, she should let him do it so she could observe his interaction with the baby, but it was too late to backpedal now. “Of course.”
Nate reached into the black canvas tote he used as a diaper bag and whipped out a small plastic bottle with premeasured dry formula. Next he withdrew a container of water.
While he unscrewed the lids and mixed the two together, Anna removed Jessie from the carrier and cuddled her in her arms. She felt warm and soft—so sweet and vulnerable. Her baby powder scent triggered a protective streak, something Anna hadn’t felt with the other infants on her caseload. Sympathy, she supposed, for a child who didn’t have a mother.
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