Page 4 of White Collar Rancher

Her feelings shamed her. He was the one who needed the support. And like all the other times, she had to be the responsible one. The strong one. Always the smarty-pants who knew what to do.

She got out of her head long enough to hear the faint squalling of a baby. Powerful lungs for a little guy. “What’s wrong?”

His words rushed over the phone like the wind blowing outside her window. “He’s not sleeping. And he cries all the time. The last two nights, it’s like the clock hits eight and a switch flips. He cries for hours. Screams. What am I doing wrong? Is he sick? Is he—”

“Relax, Justin. Where is he now?” She had zero worries about Isaiah’s safety in his dad’s care, unlike the lingering doubts she’d harbored about the boy’s mom.

“Up in his crib so I could call and hear you. Mom and Dad left last week and I— Fuck. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The urge to chuckle was strong, but she bit her lip. Now wasn’t the time. He was a dad going out of his mind with worry, and this situation was so normal. But it was only refreshing for her. “Most first-time parents feel that way.” Her father had gotten these panicked calls when she was a kid. “Is he still eating okay and dirtying diapers throughout the day?”

“The kid shits more than any ranch animal I’ve been around.” A heavy sigh floated over the phone. He was calming down.

“Then my unofficial observation would be colic. He’s in the timeline for when it starts.”

“What the fuck is colic? Hold on, I should check on him. No, I can’t keep you on the line. I— Dammit. I don’t know what to do.”

Cool, collected Justin was harried and unsure of himself. This was a side of him she’d never seen. Most of her high school years had been spent being the third wheel with him and Maisy.

“Want me to come over?” The offer slipped out before she could think too hard about it. She had work in the morning and she wouldn’t do this for a patient. Too many lines crossed. But he was a friend. And he’d turned to her when she felt less than worthy.

A couple of heartbeats went by. “Could you?” The hopefulness and yearning in his voice clinched her decision.

“I’ll be right there.”

“God, thank you.”

She clicked off and looked down at herself. It wouldn’t make sense to change into nice clothes to go rock a baby. Unless she was in scrubs for surgery, no one saw her this casual. Ever. Especially not Justin. She combed out her hair and changed into a pair of knit leggings and a cowl-neck sweater.

Her parents were in bed but probably not asleep. She sent them a message telling them she was meeting a friend. They wouldn’t ask questions. They never did about her personal life. School, yes. Residency, yes. But not boyfriends or how she was doing after Emmett had dropped her after residency. They hadn’t even asked why.

But that was for the best. Priya relived the breakup often enough; at least she didn’t have to share it.

The night was dark and chilly. Fresh lake scents surrounded her, the fishy tang of middle summer gone. A crisp wind promised the plummeting temperatures of approaching winter. The smell of earth and pine trees floating on the air was one of her favorite things about living by the lake. The mosquitoes during the summer almost ruined the fun, but the city sprayed heavily. Probably because the city commissioners and other influencers lived in this neighborhood, too.

She parked outside. Her parents had a four-car garage, but aside from their normal vehicles, Dad’s sports car took up the third stall. The fourth stall was slotted with their biking gear. Not motorcycles, but bicycles that cost as much as motorcycles and ranged from sturdy mountain bikes to sleek road bikes.

Dad had offered to move them, but since Priya was staying rent-free, she insisted on parking outside. When the temps dipped to twenty below zero in the winter, she might think twice.

She knew the way to Justin’s, though she hadn’t been there often. In high school, she’d gotten the feeling that Maisy wasn’t allowed at his place. Whether that had been a limit Justin set or his mom, Priya didn’t know. But it’d been for the best.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, she concentrated on maneuvering out of the lakeside neighborhood where she’d been born and raised. The houses reflected the size of their neighbors’ bank accounts, but if they were like her parents, they worked hard for it. Overtime, on-call, and long shifts were her past, present, and future.

But this was going to be her only home visit.

Chapter 3

Justin’s ears rang, and he was to the point where the screaming had blended into a drone. Isaiah cried and cried. Justin had done the bicycling the legs business that he’d read about when he was still coherent enough to make out words and what they meant. Baby massage had been next. Whatever he did, he’d better not stick a fucking bottle in the kid’s mouth. That made him scream harder.

This was the third night since his parents had gone back to Arizona. He hadn’t registered more than four total hours of sleep, and if he got a two-hour stretch at one time, it was a damn miracle.

That sleep-when-your-baby-sleeps business was bullshit. Whoever concocted that advice hadn’t been a single parent with dishes to wash, laundry, checkups, and a functioning ranch.

Ranchers didn’t get maternity leave.

Thank God his sister had moved back to town. Sure, he was happy that Brigit had married his best friend, was blissfully in love, and was happier than he’d ever seen her. But he was selfishly glad that she’d taken over the majority of the sheep-ranching duties until he could come up for air.

When that would be, he had no clue.

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