Page 91 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

Ginty, her dad, Margot…they were all racing over, but it was clear no one was going to get there in time. And then, seconds before Stevie hit the dirt, Booker threw himself on the ground, arms outstretched, and caught her in his hand like a baseball in a mitt.

The barn went silent for one second before Stevie’s mouth opened wide, and she let out a shriek. Tears streamed down her rosy cheeks, and she held her arms out for her mom.

Lorelei grabbed her and held her close, one hand on top of her head. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Mr. Hayes caught you. You’re okay.” She was saying it more to reassure herself, but she was so damn grateful her daughter hadn’t hit the floor.

“You all right, baby doll?” her dad asked.

Stevie looked to her mom for confirmation.

“Does anything hurt?” Lorelei pushed her daughter’s hair off her face, but it was clear she’d only been shaken by the fall. As she soothed her little girl, she saw Colt with shame-stained cheeks and his dad kneeling, talking to him.

“Can you believe that save?” Ginty laughed, patting Booker’s shoulder. “He was a first-round draft pick at eighteen, and he’s still got it.”

Her baby daddy wiped the dust off his jeans, his eyes on the little girl. While everyone chatted excitedly about what happened, his gaze narrowed.

Her pulse accelerated. Perspiration broke out on her hairline.

Because he was figuring it out. He looked from Stevie to Lorelei and back again, clearly processing. Finally, his gaze settled on Lorelei, the hardness of it giving her a jolt.

Instinctively, she tightened her hold on her daughter.

He started toward her. So intense. God, she remembered that intensity. In the cabin, it had thrilled her. Now, it rattled her bones.

It was all going to come out. Here and now.

He stood before her. “How old is she?”

ChapterNineteen

“One year and ten months,”Lorelei said.

He exhaled so heavily his shoulders slumped. He lowered his head.

She’d been specific for a reason, to get him over the finish line, and it had obviously worked.

“She’s mine.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Okay, Mommy?” Stevie patted her cheek.

“Yeah, baby. I’m okay.”What do I do? I can’t talk about this in front of her.

I don’t even know if he wants to be her father. He might fly back to New York and never talk to me again.

He’s done it before.

Her brother approached, his son at his side. “You okay, sweet pea?”

“I falled.” Stevie pointed at Booker. “But Mister saved me.”

“He sure did.” To dispel the tension—presumably for Stevie’s sake—her brother stayed upbeat. “Good catch. You play baseball?”

But Booker didn’t smile. His expression remained stern, his posture stiff.

“Hey, Stevie.” Her brother positioned his son in front of him. “Colt has something to say to you.”

The little boy gazed up with a sincere expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run with you in the wagon.”

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