The Colorado Kid. Vicki Lewis Thompson

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СКАЧАТЬ shook his head as he retrieved the instructions from the lamp table. “I can’t believe I’ve run across two women in the same evening who don’t know any baby basics. What’s this world coming to?”

      Matty stopped under the arch dividing the living room from the dining area and turned back to him. “Sebastian Daniels, that sounded pretty darned chauvinistic! I offered to help with this kid, but I’m sure as heck not going to take over the whole job. If you’re not planning to do at least half the work, then you’d better hire that nurse you were talking about.”

      “I’ll help, I’ll help! Don’t get excited, now. I didn’t mean it that way.”

      “Oh, I think you did. It’s very convenient being helpless at these things, isn’t it?”

      “Uh—”

      “Well, buster, I’m as baby-challenged as you are, so we’ll learn together. And this time, I’ll be in charge of reading the instructions. You can change the diaper.”

      He paled. “Me?”

      “You’ll be doing it soon, anyway.” She tried not to smile. “You might as well figure it out right at the beginning.”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “As my granny used to say, we might as well start as we mean to go on. And I mean for you to change at least half of the diapers.” She fixed him with a determined stare, hoping that she looked tough and uncompromising. Inside she was melting at the endearing uncertainty in his eyes, and the worried way he looked at his big hands, as if they weren’t adequate to deal with a tiny baby girl.

      He took a deep breath. “Okay.” He located the box with the diapers inside and tossed the instructions on top before picking up the entire box and carrying it toward the dining room. “Let’s do it.”

      She’d never felt more like hugging him. Then he set the box on the table and flicked on the overhead, and her good will evaporated. For his cozy little dinner with Charlotte he’d used candles, which she’d sort of expected. But she hadn’t pictured the vase of store-bought roses sitting in the middle of the table or the good china. And cloth napkins. Damn, he’d gone all out.

      “I’ll just clear some of this away.” Without looking at her, he hastily stacked dishes and carried them into the kitchen.

      For the first time, Matty registered that someone was missing from the household. The baby had distracted her, but now that the little tyke was dozing on her shoulder, she could take better stock of the situation. “Where’s Fleafarm?” she called into the kitchen.

      He came back into the dining room, still looking uncomfortable. “Down in the barn.”

      “Why?” She had a good idea, but she wanted to see if he’d admit it.

      He flushed, and instead of answering, he crossed to the table and grabbed the instructions from the top of the box. “Let’s see. She says something about a changing pad. This saddle-blanket thing must be a changing pad.” He flopped a quilted pad with ducks and chicks on it across the table’s gleaming mahogany surface.

      His banishment of his dog made her more indignant than the candles, the roses, the china or the napkins. “What’s the matter? Doesn’t Charlotte like dogs, either?”

      “She, uh, mentioned that a dog could sort of…ruin the mood.”

      “Go get Fleafarm.”

      He gestured toward the box. “I thought you wanted me to—”

      “I do. You can be back in two minutes. But it’s cold in that barn, and Fleafarm is getting on in years. I can’t believe you put that poor dog in the barn so that you and Charlotte could play house.”

      “We didn’t do a blasted thing, okay? The baby showed up! And I didn’t just drop Fleafarm off at the barn. I made her a real nice bed, with lots of blankets.”

      So they hadn’t had time for the planned hanky-panky. In gratitude Matty cuddled the baby a little closer. “I don’t care if you gave that dog twenty blankets. She should be up here at the house. She’s a member of the family, dammit. She probably thinks she did something wrong to make you put her out there.”

      “It’s not that all-fired cold.” Muttering under his breath, Sebastian stomped back into the kitchen. He crammed his Stetson on his head and went out the back door. But as if to prove his point about the weather, he didn’t bother with the sheepskin jacket hanging on a hook by the door.

      Matty sighed. “Men.” She nuzzled the drowsy baby in her arms. “I can teach you a lot of things, Elizabeth. I can show you how to ride like the wind without falling off, how to quiet a spooky herd of cattle and how to swing the sweetest rope in this valley. But when it comes to men, I don’t have a single bit of advice to give you.”

      Shifting the baby’s weight awkwardly so she could pull out a dining room chair, she sat down to wait for that idiot man who was going to freeze his butt to prove a point.

      THE NIGHT AIR bit right through Sebastian’s shirt and jeans as he hurried down to the barn. Seeing things through Matty’s eyes, he felt like a damn fool for making Fleafarm bunk down in the barn. But hell, he hadn’t had a date in fourteen years and the process had intimidated him into doing stupid things.

      Maybe he should give up on women entirely. Except he didn’t really have that option now, not if Elizabeth was his. He had to find Jessica and discover the truth. If he was Elizabeth’s father, then he’d talk Jessica into marrying him. He’d had to grow up without both parents around, but he’d be damned if his kid would go through the same thing.

      He slid back the bolt and opened the heavy barn door. Instead of turning on a light and getting the horses agitated, he whistled softly for Fleafarm in the darkness.

      Tags jingling, she trotted toward him and shoved her wet muzzle in his hand.

      “Come on, girl. You’ve been sprung.” He held the door open for the dog, then closed it securely after her. Fleafarm was of mixed ancestry. She had the rusty coat of a setter, four white socks and a temperament that hinted of a Border collie lurking somewhere in her background, and the body composition of a retriever.

      Sebastian had found her wandering on the road, bedraggled and pregnant, eight years ago. Barbara’s impulsive nickname had stuck, but Sebastian often wished he’d insisted on a more flattering handle for the animal. Fleafarm was one great dog.

      She glanced back at him as if asking for permission to go into the house. With a stab of guilt, he realized Matty had been right. The dog had thought she was being punished.

      “Go on. It’s okay.”

      With a little whine of delight, Fleafarm bounded up to the back door and stood there wagging her plume of a tail, her breath making clouds in the cold air. Sebastian felt like a total heel.

      And he felt damned cold, too. The warmth of the house wrapped around him like an embrace when he went into the kitchen with Fleafarm. He rubbed his hands together and blew into them.

      From the dining room came the sound of Elizabeth fretting. She wasn’t crying, thank God, just fussing. Fleafarm stopped dead in her tracks and lifted her floppy ears.

      “It’s СКАЧАТЬ