Heart squeezing, but glad that this conversation was taking place, even though it wasn’t exactly how she and Ann had planned it out, Kate slipped through the back door, closed it, and hung up the blanket.
Then she walked down the hall, intending to help her mom with dinner.
Instead, when she strode into the kitchen and saw what was happening inside, every cell went to rigid attention, her breath caught, and her feet slid to a stop.
Because Jaime was in the kitchen.
Holding Lacy.
Swaying side to side as he rocked her gently, his big hand cradled over the back her head, his palm on her back, rubbing circles.
She’d felt those circles, had that palm on her back.
Which was why this time it wasn’t just her ovaries that exploded, but her heart as well.
Nine
Jaime
“You’re good with her,” Kate’s mom said as she bustled around the kitchen.
“I’m the oldest of four,” he told her, patting little Lacy’s back when she began fussing again. “I did my fair share of babysitting.”
Marabelle crossed by him, pulling out a carton of herbs from the fridge and pausing to pat his cheek. “You’re a good boy.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, “but I do my best.”
She smiled and shook her head but didn’t argue with him.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Besides hold the baby?” She slanted a look over at him. “No, honey, you just keep working your Lacy magic. I swear, she hasn’t been this content since she was born.”
He lifted Lacy up, smiling at the adorable little munchkin. Chubby cheeks, big eyes, a rosebud mouth, she was a beautiful baby. “Have you been giving your parents the run around?” Her face screwed up, and he wasn’t sure if it was his question or because he’d dared switched positions. Quickly, he put her back against his shoulder, began rubbing circles on her back. Glancing up, he met Marabelle’s amused eyes. “I guess that answers my question.”
She laughed then turned her focus back to the sauce she was stirring.
“Where are your parents now?” she asked as he kept walking and rocking, gaze periodically going to the hall. He’d been able to catch a glimpse of Kate’s bright red hair through the glass door on the back of the house. She and her sister had appeared to be in serious conversation.
So serious, in fact, that Dave, her sister’s husband, had taken one glance at the sisters, wrapped in a blanket with their arms around each other, and had hustled down the hall, with hardly a look at the strange man who held his daughter.
“They’re in Utah,” he answered. “Most of my siblings are there, too. I came out for vet school at Davis, fell in love with the Bay Area, and never went home.” Lacy cooed, drooling against his shoulder, and he smiled down at the tiny infant. Feisty, but also needing lots of love and care.
Kind of like her aunt.
But the good thing was that Jaime had plenty of love and care to give.
“Well, for my Katie’s sake, I’m glad you stayed—oh, hi, honey. Everything okay with your sister?”
Jaime turned, saw that Kate had come back inside.
Her expression was soft, a swathe of pink across her cheeks, but it was her eyes that struck in him right in the heart.
Longing.
He was holding a baby, and she had longing in her eyes.
Their stares locked, held, and suddenly he was in the future.
In the same kitchen, with the same women, but holding a child that belonged to him, to them.
Lacy squawked, breaking the moment, knocking the vision from his mind even as he shifted her. But this time no amount of rocking or circles would calm her.
Kate moved over to a brightly printed diaper bag. “I’ll just see if there’s a bottle in here.”
“It’s in the fridge, honey,” her mom said. “Bottle warmer is on the counter and set to go.”
Kate nodded. “Got it.”
Thirty seconds later, she’d retrieved the bottle, had it in and out of the warmer, and was testing the milk’s temperature. “Gosh,” she murmured, coming toward him. “I haven’t done this since my babysitting days.”
He grinned. “Me neither. None of my siblings have kids yet, much to my mom’s chagrin.” He bounced Lacy gently. “Though, as far as babysitting goes, I guess that’s not entirely true—I spent a few days last spring bottle-feeding a litter of kittens.” A shrug. “I guess that’s a form of babysitting.”
“Please, tell me you’re kidding me,” she said.
“No,” he said. “Is this going to bring about more of your animal obsession?”
“They’re kittens.”
Jake came into the kitchen, headed for the fridge. “That’s a yes, in case you were wondering.”
“Kittens,” Kate repeated, eyes bright. Then she smiled, that big grin that he felt like an actual caress across his skin, the one that made his heart swell and feel more than it had in years, and screwed the cap on the bottle, handing it to him. “Unless, you need a break?” she asked as he accepted it.
“I’m good,” he said. “This involves significantly less of a need for octopus arms.”
She laughed, Marabelle’s chuckle following. “How many kittens were there?”
“Eight.” A beat. “And they all wanted to eat at once.”
“Naturally.” Eyes dancing as she tapped a finger tapped against her bottom lip. “So, a true need for octopus arms.”
He started giving Lacy the bottle, glad when she stopped fussing and began chugging the milk down like a champ. “Yup.” A sly look. “Or an assistant with an obsession with all things furry. Know anyone who might be interested if the opportunity presents itself?”
She kissed his cheek. “No wedding unless you pick me.”
Jaime turned his head, whispered in her ear. “Sold.”
She blinked, lips parting, but then Jake laughed and punched his sister on the shoulder. “You might need to get a bigger yard, sis. If Jaime is in close proximity to animals at regular intervals, I think you’re going to run out of space in that little garden of yours.”
Kate swallowed, her gaze hot, but when she spoke, her tone was light. “He takes care of a rooster named Barry, who walks on a leash.” As if that was the only evidence she needed to win any argument.
Jake glanced over at him, smirked. “I stand by my statement. You need a bigger yard.”
Jaime smiled. “If Kate wants a rooster, she can have a rooster.”
Marabelle beamed.
Jake sighed. “Dude, you’ve got to set the expectations low. You can’t give them everything they want, or you’ll never have negotiating power.”
“I’m telling Steph you said that.”
A narrowed look. “You wouldn’t.”
Kate danced away. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my womanly duty to inform her of the underhanded tactics her husband uses.”
“Plus,” Marabelle said, “all she has to do is blink those pretty blue eyes and—”
A female voice intruded. “Are we talking about my pretty blue eyes?”