The Detective's 8 Lb, 10 Oz Surprise. Meg Maxwell

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СКАЧАТЬ was glaring at her, she realized.

      Oh God. Because he thought the baby was someone else’s.

      “Nick, I need to explain to you about the morning after—”

      “I don’t need to hear it,” he said. “In fact, I’m pretty busy right now and would appreciate it if you left. I need to call Social Services.”

      Social Services. Back in Houston, Georgia had an acquaintance who worked for Child Protective Services. She knew the good work they did, how devoted her friend was. And she also knew how babies and children could slip through the cracks. “Do you?” she asked. “Doesn’t the note say that she’s leaving the baby with you—for a week? That she isn’t abandoning him? That she can trust you? Sounds like someone you know. And she’s very specific in the note.”

      As the baby fussed, Nick began pacing back and forth, trying to comfort the little guy. “Someone who didn’t sign her name. I have no idea whose baby this is. I can’t think of anyone who had a baby boy recently and named him Timothy—Timmy. Anyway, I can’t take responsibility for him—I have active cases.”

      Georgia’s heart sank. She wanted the police to be superheroes. But they were flesh-and-blood men and women restricted by the law, by regulations. That she knew all too well.

      “If you could hold him and get him to stop fussing while I make that call, I’d appreciate it,” Nick said.

      “Of course,” she said, reaching out her arms.

      He transferred the baby to her, and the sweet weight of him almost made her knees buckle. How heavenly he felt. And a bit scary. Would she know what to do?

      The baby squirmed and cried a bit, so she gently rocked him, and he quirked his mouth, then settled down.

      Huh. Maybe she could learn on the go. In the field. She could take care of this baby for Nick for the week.

      He stood watching her, his phone against his ear. She listened to him report the baby being left on his desk, about the note. “The mother left the baby in my care, so that means I’m his temporary guardian, right?”

      Georgia’s heart lifted. He wasn’t asking Social Services to take the baby and give him to foster care. He was following protocol, but planning to take responsibility for the infant.

      “Yes, if she’s not back after a week I will call you back,” he said, then clicked off the phone. “Good God. I’ve got exactly a week to track down the baby’s mother or Social Services will take him into custody and arrange for foster placement if the mother doesn’t return for him by noon next Saturday. And depending on the circumstances of why the mother left the baby with me, the safe haven law won’t apply because even though the baby appears to be under sixty days old, he wasn’t left at a hospital, an EMS or a child-welfare agency.”

      Georgia bit her lip. The baby could be taken away from his mother, who was only trying to protect him from someone—something. Her youngest sister, Clementine, had been a foster child, adopted by the Hurleys when she was eight years old. Georgia knew there were wonderful foster families—like her parents. But there were also bad ones. She couldn’t bear the thought of this baby in her arms being placed with strangers.

      “How am I going to take care of a baby, do my job and find Timmy’s mother all at the same time?” Nick said, and Georgia realized he was more thinking out loud than asking a question.

      “I’ll care for him for the week,” Georgia blurted out. “I’m back now. Home for good in Blue Gulch. And unemployed.” And without a cent to my name. Not that she planned to get into all that right now. “And I could use the on-the-job training,” she added, touching a hand to her stomach.

      He was staring at her belly. “How far along are you?”

      “I conceived in April. April twentieth to be exact.” The night you changed my life, made me believe in possibilities again, made me determined to find a way out. She held his gaze and saw the flicker of mistrust in his eyes when he understood what she was saying.

      His lower lip dropped slightly. “And yet on April twenty-first, when your rich boyfriend showed up, you acted like we’d just run into each other outside your condo. How are you so sure when you conceived? Or that I’m the father?”

      She owed him an explanation. She’d come here to tell him everything. And though the thought of rehashing it, reliving it for the telling made her feel sick to her stomach, she had to do it.

      She could still remember the first time she’d seen Nick, her surprise that someone from Blue Gulch was standing on the porch of her condo in Houston, the immediate pull of attraction to him on all levels, the inability to look away from his face.

      Oh, how the sight of him had comforted her. He was from home. He was the police. But she’d been too afraid to tell him anything—about why her sister Annabel had clearly felt the need to have a policeman check up on her. Why Georgia hadn’t come home to Blue Gulch when her gram fell ill and Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen was failing. Why the “fancy city businesswoman” had let down her family and stayed put in Houston. Why she hadn’t simply sent home a check to pull Hurley’s from the brink of bankruptcy.

      She’d invited Nick in and they’d talked about Blue Gulch. They’d talked a little about their families—but Georgia realized she’d done most of the talking, needing to feel connected to the Hurleys even if she couldn’t be with them. And a glass of wine had led to another, and a kiss had led to Georgia allowing herself the evening with this man. Knowing there wouldn’t be a next day or a next time. She’d given herself to the fantasy of it, of him, of what her life might be like if only—

      She pushed the thought away. She wouldn’t, couldn’t think of the past anymore. It was over, finally over. She was safe. She was free. And she was finally home. She’d bring it up only to explain herself to Nick and her grandmother and her sisters. Then she’d lock it up tight. She was going to be a mother and had to focus on that. Not on mistakes, on regrets, on what had been out of her control.

      Easier said than done, but Georgia was going to try.

      “I’m sure,” she said. “I’m pregnant with your child, Nick. Listen, I—”

      “I need to get some air,” he interrupted, taking the baby back from her.

      She nodded. He’d been streamrolled twice in the same half hour.

      He closed his eyes for a moment, then started pacing, the baby seeming to like the quick movements. “I need to get some things for Timmy. I’ll be taking the rest of the day off.”

      “Did you hear what I said?” she whispered.

      “I heard you. I’ll be in touch.”

      Dismissed, she thought.

      She watched him settle Timothy into the baby carrier, taking a frustrated few moments to figure out the five-point harness straps. Then he picked up the carrier and walked out of the station and down the steps without looking back.

       Chapter Three

      Timmy was fast asleep in the little bassinet Nick had bought at Baby Center. Nick watched the baby’s chest СКАЧАТЬ