Page 6 of Wild Runaway
When I don’t say anything, her eyes scrunch up and her mouth opens.
“Hey,” I say quickly. I guess my voice is lower and gruffer than what she’s used to, because she stares at me again.
Her little hand reaches out and grabs my beard. She looks surprised at the texture, and her brow furrows in an adorable frown.
I don’t know what to say to a baby, so I smile and introduce myself.
“I’m Joseph. Some people call me Lone Star.”
Her face squeezes up, and just when I think I’m winning her over, she lets out a howl that would scare the bears from the woods.
Trish comes over and takes her off me, and it’s a relief to hand her over. I can coax a wild deer our of a trap, but I’ve got no idea how to calm a human baby.
“Let’s get you changed while your milk’s warming.”
She looks around the cabin, and I wonder how it looks through the eyes of a mom. There’s an open fireplace with a deerskin rug on the wooden floor and a sharp-edged coffee table. On one wall is my gun rack, and on the other are floor to ceiling windows, clear glass that looks straight into the depths of the dark forest.
Nope, it’s not designed for babies, and I have a pang of regret. When I built this place, it was with myself in mind. Now I wonder what it would be like to have Trish and the baby around for good.
I shake the thought out of my head. It would be noisy and stinky if the last few minutes are anything to go by.
“Is there somewhere I can change her?”
I stare at her blankly until I realize she’s talking about changing the diaper.
“The bedroom? Or the floor or the kitchen table?”
I don’t know what she needs. I’ve never had a baby in my cabin before.
“Any flat surface will do.” She slings her bag over her shoulder. “But probably not the kitchen table.” Her nose crinkles up in an adorable way, and she smiles.
“You can use the bed.”
She throws her bag over her shoulder and follows me into the bedroom. “I don’t have a changing mat. Do you have an old towel or something I can throw down, just in case?”
I don’t want to know what the just in case is. I grab a towel from the hallway closet and put it on my bed.
Trish lays the baby down, and I avert my eyes before I see something that can’t be unseen.
“The bathroom’s through there.” I indicate the closed door as I shuffle out of the room, trying not to see the unwrapping of the diaper. “There’s a bath if you want to bathe her. Or yourself.”
An image of Trish naked and in my bath fills me head, and I practically run out of the bedroom. This woman’s got me thinking about things I thought I was done with in my life.
I grip the kitchen counter and breathe hard, trying to control the storm of emotions inside me. How can one woman and one tiny baby make me feel so out of control?
“Get it together,” I mutter to myself. She needs shelter, not a man ogling her and imagining her naked.
There’s a stack of wood by the fire, and I get the fire going to warm the place up.
Trish comes out a few moments later and tests the milk, then settles with the baby on the couch to feed.
With a dry diaper and milk in her belly, the crying finally stops. A content silence settles on the cabin. It’s a lovely sight, Trish feeding the baby in front of the fire, the only sounds the crackle of the flames and the baby suckling.
The silence is golden, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Do they always cry that much?”
Trish glances up. “It’s been a long day. Her routine is out of whack.”
