Page 8 of White Collar Rancher

They stared at each other for a heartbeat before he spoke. “The roads might be crap. I don’t want you to have to rush.”

Her forehead furrowed as she tried to wake up. “Work. Right.” Her voice was sleep-roughened; husky. He shouldn’t have noticed, shouldn’t be hoping she’d keep talking, but he hadn’t been with a woman since Maisy had gotten pregnant.

Did bachelors celebrate one-year abstinence anniversaries?

Ones who had been so epically screwed by women did.

He rose and kept his voice low. “I know you have a full day of patients.”

Her expression flickered so fast he couldn’t read it. Then she tipped her head toward the crib. “I fed him at three. He seems to be ready to sleep the day away.”

She’d been doing that, covering his feedings after the witching hours passed. Her generosity granted him an extra few hours of uninterrupted, deep sleep. With her efforts, he could make it through the day without feeling like he was losing his mind. He even tossed a load of clothes in the wash or did dishes instead of collapsing in a chair with a baby on his chest.

She got up and stretched.

Don’t look. Don’t look. He couldn’t watch those curvy legs of hers go taut. And the way she gripped her sleeves in her palms as she reached her arms above her head was too fucking adorable.

This was Priya. He didn’t get lewd thoughts about her. She’d been his girlfriend’s friend; now she was his. It hadn’t been allowed even before he’d cut himself off from dating.

He snuck out of the nursery first, not trusting himself to avoid checking out her ass. Those thick sweaters she wore weren’t enough to hide the sway of her hips.

Once they hit the bottom of the stairs, she leaned in and he automatically drifted toward her. “Are you going to try it? The baby sling,” she whispered.

Oh. That.

When she’d arrived last night and lifted that gauzy fabric from her tote, his mind had defaulted to wicked thoughts and images. And questions. Like was her skin as soft as it looked? And if she were encased by the dark blue material and nothing else, would it make her complexion glow, or chafe? He didn’t like the idea of the material marring her in any way.

When she’d wrapped it around her back and shoulders, he’d almost choked on the surge of lust that slammed into him. Then she’d started saying thing like “wearing” and “baby” in the same sentence and reality had smacked him upside the head.

She thought it’d be a good idea for him to cocoon Isaiah in that thing and wander around like one of his ewes with a suckling lamb.

Fuck. No.

His face must’ve revealed the answer. He didn’t plan on touching the wrap.

“Well there’s a brochure if you’re interested,” she said, shrugging into a puffy white coat that swallowed her whole. “My nurse, Krista, teaches workshops on baby wearing so if you have any questions, I can ask her.”

“Did you have to buy that thing?” It looked like a death trap. How would Isaiah not drop out the bottom? Pop out the top? What if he bent to pick something up and the baby spilled out? He had enough stress without dropping babies on their heads.

But Priya had helped him so much the last couple of weeks, he couldn’t ignore her gesture. He’d asked for her help because he trusted her with Isaiah. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to…wear his baby?

Her lips twitched at his tone. He jerked his gaze away before she could catch him staring at her mouth. He’d just been waiting for her full smile, but… Though he’d pulled himself off the market long ago, he wasn’t prepared for the hard work of ignoring his body’s demand.

All he had to do was remember why he’d moved home in the first place. His gaze strayed to the pile of fabric on the edge of the couch. If he wanted to get laid, he’d probably have to wait until his son went off to college.

Wiping all thoughts of sex out of his mind, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his flannel sweatpants. Sex should be the farthest thing from his mind. The last few weeks, he’d smelled of baby powder and sour milk. The diaper bin was noxious, and he hadn’t shaved in almost two months.

Real man candy. But the last thing he wanted to do was scare off Priya. He wasn’t going to be the guy who went after his dead ex-girlfriend’s best friend. Being with Priya would be poor taste under other circumstances, but the tragic baggage made it worse.

Besides, even if she’d ever be interested in this lifetime, how would it look if he made a move on his late ex’s best friend? What would Priya think of him? He couldn’t risk his friendship with her, or the trust he had in her abilities. That trust didn’t extend to relationships.

Krista sidled up next to her and leaned against the counter. She plopped a white Styrofoam cup of green tea next to Priya’s work laptop. “So. Was he open to the idea?”

The “he” in question flashed through Priya’s mind. She’d woken up to him crouched in front of her, all angles and shadows, his warm and comforting presence blending into the soothing ambiance of the nursery. The room had a different feel than the rest of the house. Time stalled when she walked in. Her worries were left outside the doorway and all she had to worry about was Isaiah, not how his mommy would never see him smile or grow up. Or her conflicting feelings about his daddy. Just a crying baby who settled down after a few hours, slept, and took a bottle like a champ.

As for Krista’s question… Her lips twitched as she recalled Justin’s furrowed brow and dubious expression while she unraveled the baby wrap. “I think necessity might dictate how open he is.”

Krista snickered. “Once he discovers how freeing it is, he’ll think marsupials are geniuses. I still get a lot of resistance from mommies, but I’ve taught several dads baby wearing.”

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