“You put a moose head on the nursery wall?” Sarah asked, her tone aghast. Katie Devlin looked pretty appalled too.
Hannah spoke up. “It’s a forest theme. They’re stuffed animals. It’s adorable, I promise. He saw it on Pinterest.”
Jared Devlin smirked. “You don’t strike me as the Pinterest type.”
“I had a baby on the way. Needs must.”
Sarah’s voice grew insistent. “Boone. I need your attention. I need you to answer my question. Do you care that she’s a girl and not a boy? Do you want a daughter?”
His hold tightened protectively around the bundle in his arms. “I want her! I want to be a father—her father—her daddy. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I don’t go back on decisions. You know that about me, Sarah. Did you really think I’d change my mind just because she’s a girl instead of a boy?”
“No, I didn’t.” She lifted her chin, and sincerity blazed in her eyes. “I absolutely didn’t.”
“I might be a little mush-minded right now because this is a big moment in my life, but I’m very well aware that more is going on than meets the eye. I do want an explanation, because I know you too, Sarah. You had a reason for the subterfuge. However, all that can wait. Right now, I’m getting to know my little girl.”
He returned his gaze to the baby, sleeping peacefully in his arms. “We have lots of things to figure out, don’t we? Need to figure out what direction we want to go with the nursery so we get my designer working on it. You and I might need a Pinterest date. What do you say? Most important, though, Trace Parker McBride isn’t going to do. You need a name. To paraphrase the great Jimmy Buffett, tell me…” Boone softly sang, “Little Miss Magic, who you gonna be?”
* * *
Hannah was a great big glob of goo.
Boone might not have been blindsided by the fact that this baby was a girl, but Hannah darned sure was. A girl? She’d committed to taking care of a girl?
She couldn’t do it. That wasn’t the deal. It was a step too freaking far. Her heart was healing—emphasis on the ing. Not healed. She wasn’t there yet. She was a long way from being there yet.
A girl. What the heck was going on here? How could anyone have made such a basic mistake? Nobody. Somebody misled Boone on purpose. Why?
She watched him drink in the sight of the infant in arms, and her heart gave an extra-vicious twist. She couldn’t help but think of the moment she and Andrew had learned they were expecting a second daughter. Andrew had been sorely disappointed and cranky about it.
His reaction had hurt. Hannah would have welcomed a boy, but she had been happy that Sophia would have a sister. All she truly cared about was that the baby be born healthy.
Yeah, well. “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Stones was her theme song, wasn’t it?
Her mind drifted into the past, and tears stung her eyes. Her heart was hurting. She turned away, and that’s when something attracted her attention to the teenager half hidden by a hedge. Perhaps it was the tear trailing down her cheek. Maybe it was the intensity of the stare the girl had leveled on Boone and the baby.
Probably it was the naked pain etched across her face.
Hannah knew grief when she saw it.
Vaguely, she heard Boone talking to the baby about Pinterest and nursery design.
The teenager covered her mouth with her hands and shut her eyes. That’s when Hannah figured it out. This was that baby’s mother.
Hannah studied the girl. No, the young woman. Older than fifteen, less than nineteen, would be her guess. A little taller than Hannah’s five foot six. She had long brown hair, big brown mournful eyes, and she dressed in yoga pants, sneakers, and an oversized T-shirt.
When Boone sang to the baby, the girl turned away. She began walking away. Fast. Hannah glanced at Boone. He remained focused on the baby.
She followed the teen, who exited the restaurant’s patio through a gate and headed toward a parking lot. Even as she pursued the girl, Hannah second-guessed herself. Maybe everyone would be better off if she just let this go. Nevertheless, she got close enough to call, “Rachel? Rachel Davis? Please, may I speak with you a minute?”
The girl stopped and whirled around. “What do you want? Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“My name is Hannah. I’m a friend of Boone’s. I’ll be helping with the baby during the trip back to Colorado. He’s told me about you.”
“What did he say about me?”
Uncertain whether Boone’s explanation to her had breached any professional privacy rules, Hannah chose her words carefully. “He told me he guessed that you were the baby’s mother.”
“Are you his girlfriend?” Rachel swiped the tear tracks from her cheeks.
“No. I’m his tenant. I’m renting a place to stay from him, and I have experience with children, so he asked for my help.” She paused a moment and added, “Can we talk?”
“Why? What is there to talk about? If I’d wanted to talk to Boone, I’d have been there.”
You were there. “So don’t talk to him. Talk to me. Tell me why you chose Boone to be your baby’s father.”
“The kid needed someone.” Shrugging, she glanced back over her shoulder toward the restaurant patio. “I knew Boone could afford a kid. Look, I gotta go. My bus will be here soon.”
Obviously, there was much more to this story than the fact that Boone had money. Hannah wanted to hear it. She knew Boone would too. “Tell you what.” She gestured toward the Italian restaurant across the street. “Why don’t we go inside where it’s cool, order something to drink—and eat if you haven’t had dinner—and when we’re done, I’ll order an Uber for you. My treat.”
When she saw the refusal forming on the teen’s face, she quickly added, “Boone should know. It will help him be a better father.”
Rachel pursed her lips and considered. When a moment later, she nodded, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, they were seated inside the welcome air-conditioning of the dining room. While Rachel perused the menu, Hannah sent Boone a text. Something came up. Will meet you back at the hotel later.
She ordered a dessert she didn’t want so that Rachel wouldn’t have to eat alone and waited until their drinks were served to say, “Rachel, here’s the deal. I would love to hear your story, as much as you feel comfortable sharing. I’ll also promise to keep your confidence. If there is something you don’t want Boone to know, I’ll keep my lips zipped. You have my word. I just, well, from one mother to another, I know that sometimes it really helps to have a sympathetic, nonjudgmental ear.”
The teen dumped the contents of a sugar packet into her iced tea and stirred it with her straw. In Hannah’s purse, her phone pinged with an incoming text. She ignored it.
“I don’t know where to start,” Rachel said.
“Well, you could start at the beginning. Want to tell me how you met Boone?”
She shrugged. “When I was a kid, I had this thing happen, and I met him ’cause of that. He was nice to me. I was in the hospital for a while, and he came to visit me. A lot. He’d come and sit and talk to me. No one had ever talked to me like that. He told me about his parents and his sisters and his ranch and his granddad’s lake house and his cousins. He told me when I got better, he would help me learn how to ride a horse and a wakeboard. It sounded like, well, heaven.”