The Rancher's Miracle Baby. April Arrington

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      Safe. Tammy pulled in a strong breath and held Brody tighter as she made her way inside. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Not a single corner of the world felt safe anymore, and she never stayed in one place long enough to find out if it was.

      “We should probably get him out of those wet clothes.” Alex gestured toward the dark hallway and turned to close the door behind them.

      The door frame had been damaged by the storm, and he kicked the corner of it with his boot repeatedly until it shut. Tammy walked slowly down the hall, feeling her way with a hand on the wall as they drifted out of reach of the lantern’s light and arrived at the first door on the left. She fumbled around to find the doorknob, then twisted, but it was locked.

      “Not there,” he bit out.

      She jumped and glanced over her shoulder. Brody lifted his head from her chest and started crying again.

      Alex winced and looked down, cursing softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, easing awkwardly around them and moving farther down the hall. “I don’t use that room. And the windows are blown out in the guest room.” He opened a door at the end of the hall and motioned for her to precede him inside. “But you’re welcome to this one.”

      She took a few steps, then hesitated at the threshold, an uneasy feeling knotting in her stomach as she scrutinized his expression. He’d sheltered her during intense events, and she truly believed she’d seen him at one of his weakest moments back at the demolished home. But...he was still a stranger. One who obviously cared for Brody but refused to hold the boy. And she’d learned a long time ago that a kind face could mask a multitude of evils.

      Alex slowly reached out and rubbed his hand over Brody’s back. “I’m sorry,” he repeated gently. “From the looks of your truck, you’re not going to be able to drive it tonight. Power’s out. Landlines and cell service are down, so we can’t make any calls, either. I did mean what I said. You’re welcome to use this room tonight.”

      His expression softened, and his tempting mouth curved up at the corners in what she suspected was supposed to be a smile. But it fell flat, as though he rarely used it, and he turned away.

      Broken. Tammy swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. His body was agile, solid and strong. But his smile was broken.

      She straightened and followed him into the room, trying to shake off the strange thought—and the unfamiliar urge to touch him. To comfort a man. They both arose from the intensity of the day’s events. And the loss he and Brody had suffered was enough to evoke sympathy from even the hardest of hearts.

      “I pull from a well, so there’s no running water.” Alex crossed the room and riffled through the closet. Hangers clacked, and clothing rustled. “I have some bottled water on hand that I can put in the bathroom for you.” He held up a couple of shirts and a pair of jogging pants. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to put on some dry clothes, too. These will swallow you both whole, but they’ll at least keep you comfortable while the others dry out.”

      Tammy looked down and plucked at her soggy T-shirt and jeans. Brody squirmed against her, squinting against the light Alex held.

      “I’ll wait in the kitchen,” Alex said. “If you don’t mind seeing to Brody?”

      At her nod, he placed the clothes and lantern on a dresser, then left, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll take the wet clothes when you’re done and lay ’em out to dry.”

      “Thank you,” she said.

      But he was gone.

      The white light glowing from the lantern lit up half of what seemed to be the master bedroom, and the dresser cast a long shadow over an open door on the other side of the bed. The room definitely belonged to Alex. If the absence of feminine decor hadn’t hinted strongly enough, the light scent of sandalwood and man—the same one that had enveloped her as Alex had covered her in the hallway—affirmed it.

      Brody made a sound of frustration and rubbed his face against the base of her throat.

      “Guess it’s just you and me for now.” She cradled him closer, closed the door, then grabbed the lantern from the dresser. “Let’s get cleaned up, okay?”

      It took several minutes to gather what she needed from the bathroom and strip the wet clothes from Brody. He grew fussy, wriggling and batting at her hands as he lay on a soft towel on the bed.

      “Mama.” He twisted away from her touch and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Mama.”

      “I know, baby,” Tammy said, scooting closer across the mattress. “I’m so sorry.” She strained to keep her voice steady and forced herself to continue. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

      She hummed a soft tune while she worked, hesitating briefly after removing the diaper and cleaning his bottom, then grabbed one of the T-shirts Alex had provided.

      “This will have to do for now,” she said, folding the cotton shirt into a makeshift diaper around him and tying knots at the corners. “I’ll get something better soon.”

      He rubbed his eyes with a fist, and his thumb drifted toward his mouth. Tammy caught it before it could slip between his lips, then wiped it clean with a damp washcloth. His face scrunched up, and he fussed until she released it.

      “There,” she whispered, bending close and placing her palm to the soft skin of his chest. His heart pulsated beneath her fingertips. “Does that feel a little better?”

      Brody blinked slowly, his eyes growing heavy as they wandered over her face. He returned his thumb to his mouth, and his free hand reached up, his fingers tangling in her hair, rubbing the damp strands. He grew quiet, drifted off, and his hand slipped from her hair to drop back to the mattress.

      A heavy ache settled over Tammy and lodged in her bones. Being careful not to wake him, she stood and gathered several towels from the bathroom. She rolled each one and arranged them on the bed around him as a barrier.

      Keeping a close eye on him, she changed out of her wet clothes and into the dry ones Alex had provided. Her mouth quirked as she held the jogging pants to her middle to keep them from falling. Alex had been right. The pants were at least three sizes too big, but she folded the waistband over several times and tied a knot in the bottom of the T-shirt to take up some of the slack in both.

      When she was finished, she pulled her cell phone from the soggy pocket of her jeans and tried calling Jen. But there was no service, just as Alex had said. Sighing, she turned it off, gathered up the wet clothes and lantern, then made her way down the hall, drawing to an abrupt halt in the kitchen.

      Alex stood by the sink, tossing back a shot glass and drinking deeply. He stilled as the light bathed his face and the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

      A trickle of dread crept across the flesh of her back and sent a chill up her neck. The sight was nothing new. Her father had adopted the same pose every morning and every night. For him, each day began and ended with a bottle, and she imagined it was still that way, though she hadn’t laid eyes on him in eight years.

      The desire to run was strong. It spiked up her legs and throbbed in her muscles, urging her to drop everything and take off. Even if it meant walking twenty miles in the dark to the nearest town.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ