Page 10 of The Cowboy's Christmas Baby
It was. It so was. He had no idea. Babies probably didn’t eat hotdogs.
“Not at all. I love babies,” she replied, all enthusiasm, even though she had no idea how she felt about them, because she’d never actually interacted with one before. A brief stint as an elf was as close as she’d gotten.
This one was cute, though. She had a tuft of brown hair that looked like a worn, patchy carpet, chubby little legs that couldn’t possibly support her body weight, and a pink romper adorned with red hearts. The booties on her tiny feet were cute, too, but Tate doubted very much if they were meant for hiking. They looked more like mittens for toes.
The innocent smile was what did it for Tate. The tiny tot had inherited her own brand of charisma from her larger-than-life dad. She rolled to a sitting position on her puffy behind and grinned. An open expression full of self-confidence proclaimed,the world loves me and you’ll love me, too.
Oh, sweetheart. If you only knew what a cold, hard, cruel place the real world can be.
This little darling needed someone to protect her from a world filled with ranches, rodeos, and cowboys, and that someone was Tate. She had tons of that kind of experience.
So how did she fake childcare experience, of which she had none?
“What a doll!” She scurried past Miles and homed in on the tot, her brief flare of panic forgotten.Work with me, kid.She scooped the baby up by the armpits, which seemed to go over well, and perched the diaper-clad bottom on her hip. She stroked a plump cheek with one fingertip. They regarded each other with mutual suspicion, but Tate persevered. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Iris,” Miles supplied, sounding as dazed as his young daughter appeared.
“Well, Iris,” Tate gushed, even though, with those green eyes, the baby was grossly misnamed.Fernwould have been a much better choice if they were intent on a botanical theme. “You and I are about to become buddies. How old is she?” She fired the question at Miles.
“Eight months tomorrow.”
“A party is in order, then.”Oh, the fun.Tate had lost track of her high school friends—other than Maybe—but knew of at least five who’d gotten married. Surely one of them had kids by now. She tried to recall if Maybe’s married sisters had any babies Iris’s age.
“I’m less interested in your party-planning skills than I am in whether or not you can change a diaper,” Miles said, interrupting her thoughts. Alarm replaced the stunned look in his eyes and warned her she was trying too hard.
“It’s been a while,” she said, dialing her enthusiasm back to something less weird.
“Why don’t we find out how good your memory is?”
“Okay, it’s been never,” she was forced to confess. There was no reason for Iris to suffer all because she hadn’t known there’d be a test. “But I’m willing to learn. Changing diapers won’t be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Fair enough. I’ll walk you through it the first time and we’ll see how you do. Follow me.”
She carried Iris, who arched her back and stiffened her legs as if she knew what was coming and had already decided it wasn’t for her. Miles led them to one of the public restrooms close to the main door. It had a big plastic change station attached to one wall.
Tate held Iris at arm’s length and examined her pink romper, which had holes for her arms, legs, and head, but no exit that she could determine. He’d offered to walk her through it, but she hadn’t intended to ask for his help quite this fast. Now, if she were saddling a horse…
But she wasn’t. “How do I get her out of this thing?”
Miles leaned against the bathroom door. He lifted one eyebrow. “How do women get in and out of a teddy?”
Tate blinked. “Do women even wear teddies, anymore?”
“Yeah,” Miles said, the curve of his lips and faraway look in his eyes giving up way too much information as to how he could be so sure.
“I think my grandma might have owned one,” Tate replied, because really. There were some things about Miles Decker, Rodeo Star, that she did not need to know, and how he’d spent his nights on the circuit was at the top of her list. She liked to cling to her preconceived notions.
He shrugged and folded his arms. Chest muscles rippled under his long-sleeved, navy T. “You could call her to ask how they work. Or, you could give it your best shot and figure it out on your own.”
So much for walking her through it. He wasn’t trying to be any real help at all. Tate took a closer look at Iris’s outfit. She spotted a flash of shiny metal. “Well, I’ll be darned. It snaps at the crotch.”
Miles shook his head in purse-lipped despair. “This is not going well.”
Not really, no. “Give me a minute. I’m not done.”
She now had nothing to lose. Iris was as wriggly as a fish on a hook, but Tate managed to get her romper unfastened without her flipping off the change station and onto the floor. She inspected the waistband of the diaper, searching for clues. “These tabs peel off, right?”
“Yes. Here’s a tip. You can lift her up by the heels—but only enough to slide the dirty diaper from under her and a fresh one into place.”
