Their Unexpected Christmas Gift

If he asked her how to do either of those things, she wouldn’t have an answer either. So she changed the subject. “So what are you making me for dinner, Chef Nick?”

“Braised chicken with cherry tomatoes and artichokes.” He kept on swaying with Ellie.

“That sounds amazing. You made the eggs benedict we had this morning, right? Those were incredible. Most of the time I’m eating popcorn or a sandwich grabbed on the run.”

“That’s no way to live. I think food is one of the greatest pleasures in life.”

The way he said that made her a little weak in the knees. Which was insane. Vivian was a practical woman, not one of those who swooned or got caught up in romantic notions. No, that was Sammie, who was the believer in fairy tales and Prince Charmings, no matter how many times she got burned by guys who were more frog than prince—unemployed scam artists who wanted a free ride and a few bedroom benefits.

“Oh my God. Ellie’s asleep,” Vivian whispered. “How did you do that so easily?”

“I don’t know. I just went with my instincts.”

Maybe Vivian was lacking the necessary strands of DNA because she had no instincts for babies. Not so much as a blip of an idea when it came to making Ellie happy. Late last night, after Sammie and Ellie had fallen asleep, Vivian had stayed up ordering from some baby website, shipping everything from the “new mom gift suggestions” list she’d found there straight to Sammie’s apartment. Baby outfits, blankets and a stroller that cost more than a small bus—because buying things was the only way Vivian could handle being an aunt.

Nick headed toward the kitchen table. Ellie stirred and let out a whimper. “Damn. I have to put her down to cook, but I’m afraid of waking her up.”

“We can put the basket in the living room, so the noise from cooking doesn’t bother her. She’ll sleep better there.”

“I don’t know if we should leave her alone, though.” Nick kept on swaying. He glanced at the chicken on the counter, then the basket, then his gaze swiveled back to Vivian. Damn, he had nice eyes. And a nice smile. “I’m good with having her in the living room, but I think you should stay with her. Just in case.”

That would give Vivian some time to check her phone, go over some emails and maybe kick off her shoes for a second. Then, after dinner, she could call a car seat–equipped Uber, get on the road with Ellie, and come up with a plan.

Because standing in this handsome man’s kitchen, mesmerized by the way he calmed a baby to sleep, was sending her mind down an entirely wrong path.

Chapter Three (#ufbb9c6d9-e3f2-54fc-9457-436bbc1364d1)

Nick was not a softie. Nope. Not one bit. And the sight of Vivian curled against a pillow, asleep, did not affect him one bit.

She was a beautiful woman, with dark hair that had partly escaped the tight, complicated knot at the base of her neck, big blue eyes that reminded him of the Atlantic Ocean a few miles away, and legs that went on for days. Her black heels sat on the floor, twin soldiers nestled against each other. The basket with the baby was on the carpet below where Vivian’s head rested, Ellie snoring lightly in the dim room, and one of Vivian’s hands resting protectively on the top of the basket.

If the circumstances had been different, this would have been his image of a perfect family. Mom asleep on the sofa, baby nearby, dinner simmering on the stove. But all of this was an illusion—a very temporary one at that. They weren’t his family. They weren’t his anything. After the meal, she’d be gone, and so would the baby.

He wasn’t going to lie. The thought disappointed him a little. Maybe it was all those years of growing up in a house as sterile and emotionless as a roll of paper towels. Or maybe it was the holiday season nipping at his emotions, with the added bit of sentimentality being back in Stone Gap with his grandmother’s house and all its memories a couple miles away. But a part of him wanted this moment to last.

Vivian stirred, blinked, then jerked upright. A detailed list and pile of neatly labeled folders slid from her lap. He could see a planner open and marked with a dozen checkmarks and color-coded tasks. Earlier, he’d heard her making calls, each one devoid of small talk and focused only on whatever document or information she was requesting. It was only when she’d fallen asleep that he’d seen the vulnerable, soft side of the driven attorney. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s no big deal. You had a hell of a day. All three of us did.” The kid was still asleep, tiny and angelic in the white basket. As far as kids went, he kind of liked this one. She was easy to hold, easy to care for and easy to fall for. “I didn’t want to wake you, but Mac’s going to be here in a minute.”

“Oh, yes, good.” She got to her feet, smoothed her skirt, then pressed a hand to her hair.

“That bun thing is pretty much done.” Nick grinned. “Beyond repair.”

Vivian pulled out the pins that held the remains of the complicated-looking knot in place, sending her hair tumbling past her shoulders. Holy hell. Letting her hair down gave Vivian an unfettered quality.

Sexy. Tempting.

She twisted the hair, then tucked it back into the bun and pinned it in place again. Nick tried not to let his disappointment show.

This woman had efficiency down to a science. He suspected if he told her you can’t do that, she’d say hold my martini and watch me. If she even let loose enough to drink a martini. She was as locked up—literally—as a summer cottage in the winter.

Vivian had said she was a corporate lawyer. He should have guessed that, from the severe suit and the practical heels and the references to a briefcase. If there was any kind of woman he didn’t want in his life, it was a lawyer. Didn’t matter what she looked like with her hair down.

His parents thought their law degrees gave them license to argue everything to death, put their careers ahead of their children time and time again. They had been there for their firm more than for anyone who’d ever needed them. Their marriage had been strained, and even at its best, they’d acted more like roommates than lovers. If that was life with a lawyer, he didn’t want any part of it.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Nick hesitated for a second, still caught in the thoughts of Vivian with her hair down, then jerked himself back to the present and opened the door. Mac stepped inside, followed by Savannah. Their baby was nestled in a thing that looked like a backpack, affixed to Savannah’s chest.

Mac and Savannah had been married for a couple of years, but they were the kind of couple that still held hands in public and gave each other secret smiles. Nick had to admit that their tendency for PDA had grown on him.

“Oh my. Is that her? I just want a peek at your cutie, Nick,” Savannah said as she hurried past him and beelined to the kid.

He raised his hands and backed up. “Her name’s Ellie. And she’s not my baby.”

Savannah had already reached Ellie. She smiled at the sleeping baby, then looked at Nick, then Vivian. “Your daughter is lovely.”

“Oh, she’s not mine either,” Vivian said.

Mac chuckled. “Don’t tell me you stole a baby, Nick.”

“It’s complicated,” he said. Explaining it would sound crazy, for sure. Woman leaves baby on kitchen table, her irate sister shows up and stays for dinner. “Did you bring the stuff?”

God, it sounded like he was making a drug deal, not a baby supplies pickup.

“Yep.” Mac swung a padded bag off his shoulder and left it on the hall table. Bright yellow giraffes and zebras cavorted on the outside of the vinyl bag. “Savannah and I got an extra diaper bag thing at her shower, so we filled it up with stuff you might need. Diapers, wipes, rash cream, formula, bottles—”

“Whoa, whoa. We’re not invading Normandy here. I just have the kid for a few hours.”

Savannah shot her husband a confused look. “Are you babysitting? Why don’t you have any stuff?”

“It’s a long story,” Vivian and Nick said at the same time.

“Okaaaayyy,” Mac said. “Well, we have a Mommy and Me thing to get to. And yes, I have become that dad.” Mac glanced at his wife, then his baby, with such obvious love it almost hurt Nick to see the emotion. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

Mac and Savannah said goodbye, then headed back out the door. Nick supposed he should have invited them to stay for dinner, but considering his dinner for one had already morphed into dinner for two, he wasn’t sure he had enough food.

Though there was something to be said for having a full house. Nick had been in a decidedly deep self-pity slump ever since the thing with his ex-girlfriend, and having people here—not just inn guests that he dodged, but people he actually interacted with—was…nice. Nicer than he’d expected.

Maybe he should do what his grandmother asked and go see his father. Bring him that box that Ida Mae had left for her son. It’ll do you good to work things out with your father,his grandmother had written. And for him to realize what’s important before it’s too late.

Nick hadn’t even gone to the house to find the box, never mind picked up the phone. His father had made a fast, almost silent appearance at the funeral, exchanging maybe a dozen words with Nick’s brothers, and none with Nick. Which was par for the course for the last ten years. Ever since the day he realized Nick had blown half his law school tuition on cooking school. He could still see his father walking away in disgust. Why you would try to make a living out of something as foolish as cooking, I’ll never know. You’re a disappointment to me.

He turned away from the door, and pushed the thoughts of the past from his head. It might have taken him ten years, but he was finally making a living at his dream job. Albeit, not the kind of money he’d made working with Carson, but not chump change, either. And he was happy.

Wasn’t he?

“What is all this stuff?” Vivian peered inside the bag. With just her and the sleeping baby in the house, the inn had never felt so intimate before. “It’s just a baby, right? Aren’t they supposed to be easy?”

Nick chuckled. “I may not know anything about kids, but one thing I’m sure of, is that babies are complicated. Not as complicated as women but close.”