The Texas Cowboy's Baby Rescue. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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CULLEN WOULD HAVE figured the social worker would be happy to hear that, since it meant her job here was done. Instead, Mitzy Martin looked as stressed as Bridgett Monroe had when he’d arrived at the hospital to confront her.
She leaned forward. “Are you sure, Bridgett? Up to now you’ve adamantly refused to consider fostering any child not available for adoption because you have a hard enough time saying goodbye to the babies in N-ICU and didn’t think you could do it in your personal life, too.” She reached over to take her friend’s hand. “And I get that. We all do.”
So, Bridgett Monroe had a heart as soft as her fair skin and bare pink lips. Cullen couldn’t say he was surprised. Any more than he was surprised about his reaction to her. Stubborn, feisty women always turned him on.
“This is different,” Bridgett said, color flooding her face.
“How?” Cullen asked, an answering heat welling up deep inside him.
“I know it sounds crazy...but I think I was meant to find these two.”
It was all Cullen could do not to groan. The last thing he needed was another overly sentimental woman in his life. Even on the periphery. Yes, she was graceful and feminine. Pretty in that girl-next-door way, with her glossy, rich brown hair, delicate features and long-lashed pine-green eyes. She wore a long-sleeved white T-shirt beneath the blue hospital scrubs that seemed to emphasize, rather than hide, her svelte curves and long legs.
But she was also an emotional firebrand—at least, when it came to him. Jumping to conclusions. Pulling him in. Then shutting him out, just as quick.
He did not need those kinds of ups and downs.
Especially not now.
Mitzy and Dan exchanged a wary glance.
“Unfortunately, Bridgett,” the social worker put in gently, “even if what you say is true, that this was all destined to happen the way it did, it doesn’t mean your chances of fostering then adopting a baby on your own have changed. At least, as far as the department goes.”
Cullen watched as disappointment glimmered in Bridgett’s eyes.
Gently, Mitzy continued. “The district supervisor and the local family court judge who hears these cases want infants who are in search of permanent placement in a stable, two-parent home.”
“But for every rule or policy there’s always an exception that can be made, especially in special circumstances like these,” Bridgett persisted resolutely.
“Yes.” Mitzy chose her words carefully. “But I wouldn’t count on that happening, long term.”
Except Bridgett was, Cullen noted in concern.
With a sigh, Mitzy continued, “They’re willing to make an allowance for Robby temporarily because you’re a nurse and Robby is just a few days old with health issues that may or may not crop up, but—”
“Whoa,” Cullen put in. “If there is any kind of risk, why not keep the baby in the hospital?”
Bridgett swung around, her elbow nudging his rib in the process. “Because the few problems he had upon admission have been treated. Hence, there’s no reason to keep him here.”
“So—” Mitzy looked at Dan “—unless there has been any further news on the law enforcement front...?”
Dan shook his head. “Sadly, not yet. But the Laramie County sheriff’s department has sent information requests to all the hospitals, clinics and urgent care facilities in the state.”
Cullen’s gut tightened at the thought of all the people who would hear his name tied to this heartbreaking situation. The assumptions they would make about his character, and by default, the McCabe family, could be catastrophic.
He couldn’t believe he was doing it again, bringing shame upon those closest to him.
“Is this going to be on the news?” he asked tensely.
“No,” Mitzy said. “We don’t want to scare off the birth mother if she does change her mind in the next few days and wants to come forward and reclaim her child.”
Looking as shocked and horrified as Cullen felt, just considering the possibility. Bridgett cut in, “Would the Department of Child and Family Services really allow that to happen?”
Mitzy paused. “It’s hard to say. There could be mitigating circumstances behind the mother’s actions.”
“Like what?” Cullen bit out, not surprised to find himself siding with Bridgett on this.
“Like she’s suffering from postpartum depression and isn’t thinking clearly,” Mitzy suggested.
“The note she left with the baby seemed pretty clear-cut to me,” Cullen said.
“In any case, we’re all aware there has to be much more to this story than we know thus far,” Mitzy explained. “So law enforcement and the medical community are all on alert for a woman coming in, having just given birth but without a baby to show for it. If anything the least bit suspicious occurs, we’ll hear about it, pronto. And go from there.”
Bridgett sat back in her chair, looking dejected again.
Cullen could imagine how the dedicated N-ICU nurse felt.
She’d found the abandoned infant and puppy, and the idea of giving Riot and Robby back to someone who had been unhappy or unbalanced enough to leave a baby alone in a cardboard box with only a puppy to guard it had to rankle.
It sure as hell did him.
“So, if you’re sure this is what you want, Bridgett, even knowing it’s only temporary...” Mitzy began.
Bridgett’s expression turned fierce. “I am.”
“And what about you?” Mitzy turned to Cullen.
Not sure what the social worker was asking, Cullen shrugged. “I just told Bridgett. There’s no way on earth that Robby is my baby.”
To his frustration, Mitzy looked as skeptical of that as Bridgett and his younger brother had. “Can you tell us who might want to assign paternity to you, then?” Mitzy asked.
Suddenly, all eyes were upon him once again. Cullen thought a long moment, then, unable to come up with anything, shook his head.
Mitzy pulled a pen from her bag, perfectly calm. Matter-of-fact. “So you’re formally surrendering all claim to this infant, then?” She brought out another piece of paper.
Was he?
Cullen hadn’t expected to do anything except come to the hospital, straighten out the situation and leave. However, seeing the newborn infant, reading the note, changed things. Made him feel that he just might be involved here.
How,