An ear-splitting squeal emerged from her open, smiling mouth. A collection of sharp-looking teeth made a sporadic appearance, while two pudgy hands clapped repeatedly. Sometimes they only connected by two fingers, sometimes the hands missed each other entirely. Aaron couldn’t begin to guess the rules of the strange game, but the child seemed to like it.
Then her smile faded.
Her hands stopped moving.
Those green eyes slid into a wrinkled squint.
A thin whimper replaced the giggling squeals.
What was happening? What was she going to do? If she made a sudden movement, would she topple to the stone pavers? He tightened his grip to ensure she didn’t fall.
Apparently, he tightened it a little too much. A new noise erupted, but not from the girl’s mouth. A soggy wail even louder and sharper than her earlier giggles followed. Aaron tried to curve his body into a protective cage to ensure his now-clammy hands didn’t suddenly lose their grip. Frantically, he searched the veranda for assistance. Hadn’t the nanny said she’d only be gone a moment?
He jiggled his leg up and down. Riding a horse gave him comfort. Maybe something similar would help the baby.
It didn’t.
He tried cooing at her like he’d seen Trent do. He shifted the way he was holding her. He even tried to scare the crying out of her. Everything he did only made things worse.
Much like his life at the moment.
Trent laughed as he climbed the wide steps to the veranda, scooped the girl from Aaron’s lap, and cuddled her against his chest. She screamed even louder, making Aaron feel a little less like a failure. How did such a loud sound come from such a tiny person? Her focus stayed on Aaron as huge tears dripped onto her father’s shoulder.
Murmuring in a low voice and patting the child on the back, Trent disappeared into the house, presumably to find the nanny, although Aaron didn’t care much what he did as long as the screaming went with him.
“Makes you want to have one of your own, doesn’t it?” Oliver watched the door Trent and Caroline had disappeared through with a dazed expression on his face.
Hudson gave a short laugh. “I believe I’ll focus on getting married first.”
“Well. Yes. That first.” Oliver grinned down at Aaron. “It will be fun to see if you panic like that when it’s your daughter screaming.”
“Since Aaron has no intention of entering into matrimony, I doubt we’ll find out,” Hudson said, having no idea that he’d just revealed a secret Aaron had never intended to tell Oliver.
He’d never intended to tell anyone. A moment of weakness and the desire to keep his new friend from doing something foolish had led him to make the confession to Hudson a few weeks ago. He’d never informed the man it was a secret, so he couldn’t be angry at him for repeating it among friends.
“Unless a certain lady jockey has recently changed that thought?” Hudson crossed his arms and lifted his eyebrows above a glare that pinned Aaron to his chair.
Now Aaron could be angry at his friend.
It was safer, though, to keep the discussion on children. If he thought too much about green eyes, red hair, and a small, stubborn chin, he might find himself blushing. Then he’d truly never hear the end of it.
He rose and walked toward the abandoned dandy horse. If the heat from his neck decided to spread up to his ears, it would be harder to see if he was in motion. “I believe there will be plenty of small humans among the rest of you for me to play uncle to.”
Given that he couldn’t see any of his friends relegating their children to the nursery and schoolroom until they were fully formed and ready to disappoint their parents, there would probably be many more instances of children being shoved into his arms in the future. Eventually he would be comfortable with it. He’d be able to dote upon them and not feel the loss in the slightest.
“You’ve been quiet this evening,” Hudson said as he poured himself a glass of lemonade.
“As if one could get a word in with the way you three talk,” Aaron grumbled, working to sound far more put out than he truly was. He certainly didn’t want to admit he’d been comparing a child’s eye color to that of a lady.
Oliver laughed and took a drink from his own glass. “More likely, he’s been contemplating this jockey debacle.”
“Hmm, yes,” Hudson said. “I’d like to know more about that myself.”
“It’s entirely Oliver’s fault,” Aaron said, keeping his face carefully turned toward the contraption and away from the other men. The seat on wheels was even more ludicrous up close, but scrutinizing it was better than discussing Miss Fitzroy. He held on to the seat and rolled it back and forth. He wasn’t quite desperate enough to mount the thing. Yet.
Oliver chuckled and dropped into the chair Aaron had vacated. “I’m not the person who signed a contract with a circus performer without meeting him.” He chuckled again. “Or her, in this case.”
Hudson stepped down to the bottom stair and leaned against the stone pillar. “That must have been quite the performance.”
His voice was hard enough to let Aaron know all had not yet been forgiven. Aaron didn’t want to discuss Rigsby in front of Oliver, but hopefully a discussion tomorrow would soften Hudson’s opinion.
Since he had to say something, he said, “It was an impressive performance. The horses were knowledgeably trained and well cared for. I hired the trainer.”
Seeing her ride today, he’d had to grudgingly admit she was as good as she’d claimed. Instead of simply hanging on and yelling for the horse to go faster, she’d adjusted her seat, experimented with the horse’s response to tapping her crop in different places, and not only implemented every correction Aaron or Mr. Barley gave but also enhanced it.
She’d earned his admiration and ignited his curiosity, but he wasn’t in a position to do anything about either one. If he complimented her, she’d think he wanted her to stay. If he asked her about the work she’d done, she’d think he wanted to get to know her.
And while he might feel a burden of responsibility toward her, that didn’t mean he wanted to keep her in his life. Once she was better situated, he could—would—forget about her. He couldn’t allow her to start feeling at home in his stable.
He certainly couldn’t allow himself to enjoy seeing her there.
“Is he always this quiet?” Hudson turned to Oliver. “You’ve known him far longer than I. Does it mean anything? Perhaps remorse for not thinking through the ramifications of this choice?”
Obviously Aaron had been right to attempt to limit his friendships. Hudson and Oliver wouldn’t have met if it hadn’t been for Aaron. Even Trent wouldn’t have become connected if Aaron hadn’t started working at Hudson’s stable and brought the business connection along.
Was he getting lazy about keeping the parts of his life separate, or were people simply hammering their way in?
For so long, his only personal connections had been to Graham and Oliver. Then Oliver’s sister had needed help, and Aaron had extended his care to her.
Then Graham had gotten married, and Aaron could hardly ignore his closest friend’s wife. Said wife had friends and issues of her own, and somehow Aaron had found himself stepping in there as well.
And that was the crack that had started it all. It wasn’t very gentlemanly to blame a woman, but Aaron needed this whole debacle to be someone’s fault, and Graham’s wife, Kit, wasn’t here to protest.