come with you. Beth’s starting to fuss.” She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over the seat to check the child. Sure enough, the baby wailed again as if she wanted something.
“What do you do for that?”
“Change her, feed her, talk to her.”
She made it sound simple, but Jared had a good idea that keeping a baby happy wasn’t so easy. He’d nursed enough calves and foals back to health to know that babies of any species were demanding creatures.
Before he could offer help, Melanie opened the door and hopped out, then fiddled with the lever to move the seat forward so she could climb in back with the baby. A blast of cold air burst into the truck, but Jared got out and made sure both doors were shut so the baby wouldn’t catch cold.
“Holler when you’re done,” he told her, and stood by the door, his back to the wind, and waited for Melanie to finish wrapping up the child. Jared shivered but didn’t bother to zip his down jacket. Babies and winter didn’t go together. Cows at least waited until spring to drop their calves, even though “spring” in Montana was a loose interpretation of the season.
He turned when he heard the woman fumble at the door, and he found himself taking the baby from her so she could climb down unimpeded. The child’s face was covered with a pink fuzzy blanket and once again she was wrapped up in a thick bundle. “Are you sure she can breathe in there?”
“I need to keep the wind out of her face.” Melanie reached for her child, but Jared—who had a good grip on the kid—hurried toward the door of the restaurant. He was in no mood to stand outside a second more than necessary, and besides, he didn’t want to drop the baby while handing her over to her mother.
“Breakfast 24 Hours” read a blinking neon sign beside the door, which made Jared think of pancakes and eggs and an extra side order of bacon. He pushed open the glass door and they were soon inside the stuffy warmth of a large bright room filled with orange booths, metal chairs and Formica-topped tables. A row of black stools lined the counter and a tired-looking waitress said, “Sit anywhere you like, folks.”
He turned to Melanie, who reached out to take the flap of blanket away from the baby’s face. The baby’s blue eyes stared up at him as if she’d never seen a rancher before. Then she screwed up her face and let out a scream of dismay that caused a couple of truckers to look up from their steak and eggs.
“Here, give her to me,” Melanie said, and this time Jared was happy to do just that. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like being wet.”
“Oh.” He watched as Melanie unwrapped the wad of blankets with gentle hands, then cooed at the little girl.
“You’ll feel much better in a minute, sweetheart, I promise.”
“I’ll get a booth,” Jared said, backing up a step.
“Can you take these? I’ll be right back.” She handed Jared the blankets and put the screaming child against her shoulder. She headed toward the ladies’ room, leaving Jared standing at the edge of the room while three older men at a nearby table gave him pitying looks. He shrugged, tossed the blankets over his shoulder and headed toward a corner booth.
“Coffee?” The waitress was right behind him with a half-full carafe.
“Please.” He slid into the booth and dumped the blankets next to him against the wall.
“What about your wife?”
“She’s not—never mind. You can pour her some, too.”
“Just wave when you want me to take your order,” she said, after filling the second mug. She pulled a handful of plastic cream containers from her apron pocket and set them on the table.
“Thanks.” He took a sip of coffee and thought about having a piece of pie to go along with it. He was starving and there was still another hour and a half to go before they arrived at the ranch. But he’d wait for Melanie, he decided. Once she joined him at the booth and they were facing each other, maybe he could find out what was going on between her and Will.
He’d finished two-thirds of his coffee before she appeared. Her red jacket was over her arm, the baby against her shoulder, the diaper bag banging her hip as she walked. He saw she wore a brown turtleneck a shade darker than her hair and slim blue jeans that belied the fact she’d had a baby a few months ago. A lock of her hair was damp, as if she’d splashed water on her face. She wore no makeup, and didn’t need any. Not in his opinion, anyway. She managed to ease into the booth while holding the child against her.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said, moving the straps of her purse and diaper bag from her shoulder.
“That’s your coffee,” he said. “If you want tea instead I’ll have—”
“Coffee’s fine. Thanks.” The baby fussed, pulling its little feet up against Melanie’s breasts. She moved the child to the crook of her arm. The baby’s face was red, its mouth turned down as she looked up at her mother.
“Can I have one of those blankets?” Her cheeks grew pink. “There wasn’t room to feed her in the washroom. I hope you’re not the type to go running out into the parking lot.”
Jared handed over the pink fluffy blanket. He had no idea what she was talking about, not until she draped the blanket carefully around the baby, covering most of the child and, he assumed, her own left breast. No, he wasn’t going to run out into the night, but he sure as hell didn’t know where he was supposed to look while this woman breast-fed her child. The baby’s smacking noises didn’t help ease his embarrassment level, either. Melanie, obviously right-handed, took a careful sip of her coffee.
“I can sit at the counter and give you some privacy,” he offered, figuring he was the “type,” as she put it, to take the easy way out.
“If you’d be more comfortable,” she said, her voice soft. “But it doesn’t bother me—or Beth. I’m really sorry you have to go through all of this. You don’t know me and yet here we are, and there you are, and you weren’t expecting any of this, only to pick up your brother’s friend at the train station.”
It was the most he’d heard her say since they’d met. He kept his gaze fixed firmly above her neck, not that there was anything to see. Melanie had lifted her sweater and engineered the blanket so that no one farther away than arm’s length would know what was going on. He prayed the covering would stay in place, that the baby wouldn’t get rowdy, that nothing would…drip. “Do you want anything to eat?” was all he could manage to say.
“Are you having anything?”
“Yes. You can’t beat the pie here.” He handed her one of the thick plastic-coated menus propped against a ketchup bottle and watched as her face lit up. She was hungry, he realized, noting that she managed to hold the menu with one hand. “We’ve got at least an hour and a half before we get home,” he added.
She set the menu on the table and smiled. “I would love a chocolate milkshake, some toast and a large glass of ice water.”
He turned to catch the waitress’s attention and, when she came to their booth, gave the order. She showed no sign of noticing that Melanie was feeding her child, so maybe this wasn’t such a strange occurrence after all.
“Will
