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For the past two nights he’d gotten almost no sleep. And then this morning he’d gotten up early to head into Dawson for a few necessities. The baby in his arms had insisted on the supplies.
The problem was, he didn’t know what things a baby required. She cried, that’s about all he knew. And he knew in baby talk, crying meant something. Either she was hungry, needed changing or something else was wrong. At about two in the morning he started to think the last choice might be the correct one. After he gave her the last bottle he had, he was at a loss. A few hours later he found himself here, hiding from Sophie Cooper before he could ask the store’s proprietor for baby advice.
“Hey, Sophie, what has you out so early in the morning?” Trish Cramer leaned over the counter at the front of the store. She and her husband, Jimmy, had owned Convenience Counts for as long as Keeton could remember. And they’d always liked to keep tabs on what was happening in Dawson, Oklahoma.
There wasn’t a local paper, but the folks in Dawson had Jimmy and Trish.
“I’m just here to grab some breakfast.” Sophie grinned at them. She had a smile that could knock a guy to the ground.
She’d always been beautiful. The woman was even better than the girl she’d been years ago. If things had been different, she would have married his brother, been his sister-in-law. If everything hadn’t changed on a June night sixteen years ago, that is. But it had changed. Nothing could undo that night.
Keeton sighed and moved around the corner of the shelves he’d been standing in front of, out of the line of sight so that he wouldn’t be the first thing Sophie saw when she turned his way.
He peeked, though. Like a thirteen-year-old kid spying on cheerleaders when they’d stopped for a diet cola after practice. Yeah, he’d been that kid. And Trish had given him the eye then, the way she was now.
“You’re working on a Saturday?” Trish looked over the tops of her glasses.
“Do you need gas pumped?” Jimmy came around the corner of the counter, wiping his hands on a rag.
“No, I filled up last night. I just need to grab breakfast and go.” She stopped in front of the warming tray and eyed food that had been sitting under a heat lamp probably since the place opened an hour ago.
Breakfast pizza and a few egg sandwiches. He’d grab something for himself, once he figured out what a three-month-old baby ate for breakfast. He looked down at the mysterious creature cuddled up against him. For once the baby wasn’t crying.
He had to stop thinking of her as “the baby.” She was his baby. Lucy. She cuddled into him, trusting, even after just a couple of days of knowing him. His baby. He shook his head, the way he’d been doing since his ex-wife had dropped Lucy with him. A baby hadn’t been on his list of things to get.
But he had her, and he couldn’t imagine not having her. Although he could imagine getting a little more rest. He hoped sleep didn’t turn out to be a thing of the past.
“Honey, you’re always in a hurry.” Trish had moved closer to Sophie. “When are you going to settle down?”
“No time for settling down, Trish. Work keeps me busy.”
Trish laughed at that. “Well, that isn’t going to keep you warm when the winters are long. You need a husband.”
Keeton nearly groaned because when Trish said “husband” she shot him a look over Sophie’s right shoulder. He shushed the baby and repositioned her. Babies were heavy. He hadn’t realized how heavy a twelve-pound bit of fluff and spit-up could be until he’d spent a full day hauling one around.
“I think I’ll be fine. I’ve got a good furnace.” Sophie answered Trish on the husband issue. “I’ll just grab something off the shelf.”
“All of this hurrying isn’t good for your digestion,” Trish called out, the all-knowing voice of reason and common sense.
“Then I’ll take a pack of those antacids you have behind the counter to go with whatever I buy.”
Keeton pulled his hat down low and grinned at the comeback. One thing about Sophie Cooper, she wasn’t a wallflower. She’d slapped him once, years ago. He shook his head and reached for a jar of baby food because maybe Lucy needed more than bottles. When he got to the register, he’d ask Trish.
Click click of heels. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sophie hurried in his direction. With a single step he moved back to the end of the aisle. She stopped in front of the few breakfast items on the shelves, frowning as she surveyed the options.
The baby in his arms whimpered. He bounced her a little, hoping to quiet her down. It had worked last night. He’d spent about an hour swaying back and forth in his living room, wishing he had real furniture and maybe the smarts to tackle his situation a little differently.
Smart would have been not marrying Becka Janson because he felt sorry for her. She’d played him good. She’d found out his winnings, his earnings and how much he’d invested in Jeremy Hightree’s custom motorcycle business and she’d latched on quick. At least he’d been smart enough for a prenup.
The baby in his arms wiggled, squirmed and let out a real cry. Sophie Cooper turned, her hazel eyes widened as she zeroed in on him and the baby. A smile trembled on her lips and her gaze shifted from the baby to him.
He tipped his hat and grinned, knowing charm and good looks weren’t going to mean a thing to the woman standing in front of him. Her attention wasn’t on him anyway. She looked at the baby, the coolness in her eyes softening, warming.
Man, she hadn’t changed much at all. She could still stop a guy in his tracks and make him forget what he wanted to say.
“Keeton West.” Her voice shook a little. “And a baby.”
He held the baby with one arm and cupped the two jars of food in his free hand. He knew his shirt had spit-up smeared on the shoulder and he hadn’t shaved in three days. He couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous.
“Me and a baby.” Stupid. Pre-Lucy he would have winked and said something like “It’s been a long time.” Or, “Sophie, you’re as beautiful as ever.”
Instead he jabbered like the infant in his arms and echoed her like a fifteen-year-old with his first crush. Actually, he knew fifteen-year-old boys who would have done better.
If he’d had any sense at all he would have stayed in Broken Arrow. He had a nice little place on the edge of the city. But wanting his family land back—that had been his driving force for as long as he could remember. He needed to remember that was his reason for being here.
One thing stood between him and the biggest portion of that land. Sophie Cooper. She’d bought one hundred acres of land that used to be his family farm.
She smiled at the baby, not at him. “She’s beautiful.”
* * *
Next time Sophie would listen to that little voice that told her to run in and get a breakfast sandwich from the Mad Cow. But no, she’d been in a hurry and thought the local convenience store would be quicker.
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