Page 6 of White Collar Rancher

The corner of his mouth hitched up, and he shuffled to a short hallway that must house the door to his bedroom. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Formula and bottles are by the sink. We have rural water, but it tastes weird without being filtered. There’s a water jug next to the can of formula.”

She nodded, uncertainty trickling in. How would she know if Isaiah was hungry? Her training came back to her. Rooting. Right. But in the throws of colic, he probably wasn’t going to eat anything.

“Where’s the nursery?” she asked before he disappeared completely.

“Upstairs.”

Perfect. The distance would muffle the cries. If she were more comfortable driving through the county in the dark, she’d load Isaiah’s car seat and go for a long drive. Maybe next time.

She paused and looked up the stairs. Who said there’d be a next time?

But come on. The guy was alone with a baby with colic. Last year, she’d had a mom break down with sobs that shook her body. She’d cried so hard, Priya had worried she’d upset her C-section healing even after six weeks. The poor thing had been facing the end of her maternity leave and her baby had been like Isaiah since week three.

Okay, so there’d be a next time. And she’d bring earplugs. The nursery was quiet and—

Wow. Not the nursery she’d expected, but then Justin hadn’t planned on being allowed much access to his own kid.

The decor was done in earth tones, complete with framed artwork of various countryside views. The carpet was whitish, but she didn’t dare flip on the light to check. The less she stimulated Isaiah the better.

A crib was on one side of the room. The wall above it was bare. She smiled. The fear of a heavy picture dropping into the crib must’ve chased the decoration away.

Smart move.

Next to the crib was a changing table. Diapers spilled from a box next to the table, and across from those was a dresser. Tiny little clothes were probably folded inside.

She scanned the mess of diapers, the wipes package that was hanging open, the pile of unopened baby gifts nestled under the window.

The clothes may not be neatly folded inside.

Was Justin the type to be bothered by the clutter? She didn’t know.

She was the type to be bothered by the clutter. Arranging Isaiah in a cradle hold, she squatted and neatly piled the diapers. Then she closed the wipes. Her fingers itched to open the drawers, but now wasn’t the time.

A red light from the baby monitor shone next to the changing table.

She leaned down to murmur into it. “Get some rest, Justin.” Clicking the monitor off, she lowered herself into the plush rocking chair and kicked her feet up.

“All right, baby. Give your daddy a break.” She sighed and settled in the rocking chair with Isaiah still in the crook of her arm. If she cradled him against her chest, he tried to throw himself around. A strong kid already.

Isaiah.

In her office, Justin had commented that he and Maisy hadn’t settled on a name. Priya had known exactly what Maisy was going to name her son, but she’d also known that if she mentioned it, Maisy would find another doctor and cut Priya out of her life.

By then, Priya hadn’t considered herself close to Maisy anymore. Like Justin, she’d just been in it for the baby. Unlike Justin, she hadn’t been able to discuss many of her concerns with him. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Maisy’s actions had been questionable even before pregnancy, but she hadn’t weathered the hormones well.

Isaiah Martin Walker.

Maisy’s parents probably hadn’t liked losing the last name. Or maybe they hadn’t cared. She hadn’t braved a visit with them. If she had a hard time not blaming herself, what did they think? She was afraid to know. In school, they’d loved her and Maisy as friends. It was like they’d hoped her deep sense of responsibility would rub off on Maisy. Did they think she’d failed their daughter as an adult?

It wasn’t time for her pain. Justin was a stand-up guy and the father, and she couldn’t see them pointing the finger at him.

How much had they worried about Maisy’s mental health? Or had they thought that since Maisy was hanging with Priya again, she’d take care of it?

Her musings had a muting effect on the crying. She gazed down at her bundle. Isaiah’s wails were pretty steady. His little hands in fists, his mouth open. Cute guy. Loud.

There wasn’t much else to do but rock him. She dug her phone out of her pocket and looked at her emails, social medias sites, and ugh, the time. She had to work in the morning.

But tomorrow wasn’t a surgery day. She wasn’t on call. And she had extra scrubs in the office. Her coworkers might wonder at her wearing scrubs in the clinic, but she doubted anyone would question her.

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