The Lawman's Baby. Patricia Johns

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      “Why do you think I’m the only one who can handle it, Chief?” she asked.

      “You’re the best,” the chief replied.

      “I’m on stress leave,” she countered.

      “You’re still the best.” He met her gaze. “And your brother’s worried.”

      Paige’s brother, Nathan, was a cop, too, but he was stationed in a small town a couple of hours away. Serving the public was in the Stedler blood...except Paige didn’t seem to have what it took anymore.

      “You could ask pretty much anyone to help out with a baby,” Paige said.

      “This particular baby is pretty small, and he was born with cocaine in his system. He doesn’t seem to be going through any withdrawal, miraculously enough, but it’s still a touchy case,” he said. “And no one else is available. I did ask around, for the record. If not you, we’re moving on to some local grandmothers who might lend a hand, and I’d rather recommend someone who’s trained in social services. You have...more of the experience that we need, considering this infant’s shaky start.”

      “Oh.” Yes, that did make sense. Still...

      “Nathan’s not the only one who’s been worried about you,” the chief added with an apologetic shrug. “I know you pretty well, Paige, and I want to help you get back in the saddle. I’m guessing you want that, too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

      “Did you run this past Dana?” Paige asked with a teasing smile. Dana was Chief Simpson’s wife—twenty years his junior, short, slim, and with a mop of curly hair that set off a pair of sparkling eyes. She and Paige had always gotten along.

      “No,” he said, but he returned the wry smile. “She would have told me to mind my own business and let you deal with things your own way.”

      “So this baby care thing—this is for me,” she said.

      “Come see the situation,” Chief Simpson suggested quietly. “Meet the officer, the baby... And if you don’t want to help out, then no hard feelings and I’ll start talking to local grandmothers.”

      “And you can tell Nathan that you did your best,” she said.

      “Something like that. Unless you want me to tell him I tried but you’re not interested. I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

      From across the bull pen, the soft cry of a baby filtered toward them, and Paige’s heart softened. A new dad and a new baby...complications aside, she was curious.

      “Let’s go,” she said, and the chief shot her a grin.

      “Thanks for this, Paige.”

      Paige followed the chief through the bull pen. A couple of officers who stood by the coffeemaker nodded at her. Three others were working at their desks. She knew most of these cops from various cases she’d been called in to. The chief led her to his office, and gestured her in first, then followed, shutting the door behind him.

      A large, muscular man sat inside, a baby car seat cradled in his lap. He looked to be around thirty, with short-cropped brown hair. His attention was fixed on the car seat he was holding in his lap. He was rocking it—the entire car seat—and the baby seemed to be settled again. He looked up, his steely gray gaze drilling into her. Paige glanced between the men.

      “Hi,” she said feebly.

      “This is Officer Mike McMann,” Chief Simpson said. “He’s just transferred over from Denver.”

      “Pleasure.” Mike reached out to shake her hand, and she was struck by the sheer size of him. His arms were thick with muscle, but as his broad palm engulfed hers, that iron gaze of his melted, and she caught a flicker of emotion under his professional reserve. And he looked—scared?

      From the car seat, another little mewling cry arose, and she bent down to get a closer look. Inside was a tiny newborn baby who couldn’t have been much over five pounds. He was swimming in a blue newborn sleeper that had been rolled up at the sleeves, but the legs just flopped empty underneath him.

      “This is my, uh, nephew,” Mike said hesitantly. “His name is Benjie. Well, Benjamin Alexander McMann. It’s kind of long for a guy this small, though.”

      “Benjie...” Paige bent over the car seat, and the baby squirmed again and wrinkled up his tiny face in a cry. “Have you held him yet, Mike?”

      “Um. Once. I put him right back, though.”

      “Once!”

      “I didn’t want to hurt him,” Mike said, eyeing her.

      “You won’t. He’s not that fragile. Babies are meant to be held—it’s good for them. They need the contact. Do you mind if I pick him up?”

      “No, that’d be fine.”

      Paige unbuckled the straps and lifted the tiny infant from the restraints. “You’re supposed to hold him as much as possible,” she said. As she pulled the baby up to her shoulder, Benjie instinctively nuzzled into her neck, tucking up those little legs underneath him. There was just something about that milk-sweet scent and the tiny rump in her palm that slowed her heartbeat down. She leaned her cheek against his downy head.

      She needed the contact right now, it seemed, and when she looked down at the baby, he opened his mouth in a tiny yawn. She smoothed a hand over that little back. He was thin—which was natural when a baby was born a few weeks early. He didn’t have any of that healthy newborn chub.

      “I kind of knew that, but he’s pretty little, and I’m kind of—” He looked down at his hands. “I’m in over my head.”

      “He’s your nephew, you said?”

      “Yeah. I only found out about him at one this morning. That’s when the hospital tracked me down. He was born four days ago. It took them that long to find me and to be certain that he wasn’t born addicted. He, um, had cocaine in his system.”

      “Yes, the chief filled me about that,” she confirmed quietly.

      “My sister left him after he was born,” Mike went on. “I’m her only living relative, so he’s in my hands now. I’m obviously working full-time, and add to that, I have no idea how to take care of babies.”

      “So you need to learn how to care for a newborn,” she clarified.

      “That among other things, I guess. I just need...” He shrugged weakly. “Help.”

      Paige could see that much. Mike looked down at the car seat in his lap, and then placed it on the floor. His movements were carefully controlled—she could see the police training in him as he kept himself contained in the chair that was too small for his muscular frame. He rose to his feet and rolled his shoulders, then let his gray gaze move over Paige, finally settling on the baby in her arms.

      “Did Chief Simpson tell you that I’m on stress leave?” she asked.

      “He mentioned that you had some time off,” СКАЧАТЬ