Page 22 of 40 and Flirting (with Disaster)
“My son,” Jamie told Iris, a hint of pride in his voice. Iris’s look said she heard it and understood. They exited the car at the same time.
Michael was breathing heavy as he met them at the front of the car. “I think something’s wrong.”
“What?” Laura called as she slammed her truck door closed. Without pause she hurried to the back to grab her equipment.
Jamie listened, fear rising, as Michael described what was going on. Normally Baby’s labor progressed within a couple of hours, but Michael had been watching her for almost that long, and other than restlessly lying down and getting up repeatedly, she did not appear to be advancing. Excessive sweating, restlessness, obvious distress.
“Any sign of the foal?” Jamie asked.
“No presentation, and her water hasn’t broken, but no red bag,” Michael confirmed.
Iris made a small sound as if confused. “It’s a sign of premature placental abruption,” Jamie explained. He hadn’t realized his hands were fisted at his sides until Iris gathered one between hers, her gentle strokes along his forearm and the back of his hand expressing compassion without words.
Laura joined them, equipment in hand. “Let’s go.”
Michael tossed a set of keys to Jamie, taking a second pair in his hand. They jogged toward the ATVs at the head of the lane down to the barn. Jamie glanced back at Iris, sudden concern hitting him. Taking in her white pants and heels, he said, “You’re not really dressed for this.”
“You’ve got time,” Laura yelled over her shoulder as she hopped onto Michael’s ATV. “I need to examine her and get the lay of the land.”
Torn between taking care of his two girls, Jamie hesitated.
“It’s okay, Jamie. I’ll be fine.”
But Iris wouldn’t be fine, not if Baby required longer than expected to deliver. Taking a firm hold on his emotions, he turned back and took her elbow, guiding her toward the house. “We have a few minutes. Let’s get you taken care of.”
The trip through the house was a blur. He hoped at some point that Iris became intimately familiar with his home—especially his bedroom—but right now wasn’t the time. He led her into the primary at the far end of the house, crossed to the night stand, and flipped on a lamp. He’d always hated overhead lights shining in his eyes, and his room was set up mostly with lamplight. Moving toward the closet, he threw over his shoulder, “Let me grab you something to change into.”
Iris was sputtering excuses behind him, but he ignored her. As he rummaged through his dresser, he found some thin cotton sweatpants and a T-shirt that, while they would definitely be big on her, would work for the time being. He carried them over to her. “Trust me?”
A tiny smile played over her lips despite the concern in her eyes. “Of course I do.”
He handed her the clothes. “You don’t want to get your clothes dirty in the barn. I should’ve thought of that before inviting you, but…”
Iris stared intently up at him. “But what?”
“But I wanted you here too much to think about anything else.”
Her face softened, and for the very first time, she reached for him instead of the other way around. Her warm hand landed on his chest, pressed firmly against his heart. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” Though he wanted to keep her touching him forever, he urged her toward the en suite. “Just change so I know you’ll be more comfortable while we wait.”
While Iris was in the bathroom, he grabbed some jeans and a shirt and changed in the walk-in closet, then retrieved a couple pairs of sports socks from his top drawer. The bathroom door opened a minute after he returned to the bedroom—obviously Iris wasn’t one to make a fuss about wearing his clothes. Although he had to say, seeing his favorite T-shirt on her did funny things to his gut. He handed over a pair of socks. “I think Marilyn, my housekeeper, has some rain boots in the mudroom that should fit you.”
Iris looked over his change of clothes, her gaze appreciative, took the socks without complaint, and followed him back to the kitchen. When they’d both donned socks and boots, he led her out to the ATV. They were at the barn no more than ten minutes after Laura and Michael.
“What’s happening?” he asked as Michael turned at his approach. His son stood at the half door to the birthing stall, one arm resting on top. The fluorescent lights above the generously spaced stall highlighted the copper tones of his hair and the unease darkening his eyes.
“Not sure yet.” The words were tense—Michael held almost as much affection for Baby as Jamie did. Still his gaze swept behind Jamie toward Iris, and a tinge of amusement lightened his voice. “Your mare?” he asked under his breath.
Jamie gave Michael a warning look. Turning to Iris, he gathered her closer to him. “Iris, this is my son, Michael. Michael, this is Iris Daniels.”
The two shook hands while Iris smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Michael. I only wish it were under less concerning circumstances.”
“Thank you.” Michael’s words were sincere, as was the appreciation in his eyes.
The three of them turned when Laura approached.
“How is she, Doc?” Jamie asked.
