Baby, Oh Baby!

Jake felt the knot in his gut pull tighter. “He made other plans.”

And didn’t see fit to share them with me, he silently added. Every time he thought about his brother taking off without saying a word to him, he got mad all over again.

“Look on the bright side,” Sally said, studying him. “Table for one will ease the strain on your wallet. The way that boy can pack away food is scary. I’m not looking forward to footin’ the bills when my little guy takes a growth spurt like Dan has. What can I get you tonight?”

“Coffee for starters,” he said. “And a menu.”

“Since when do you need a menu?” she asked. “It hasn’t changed in the five years I’ve been working here and you know that sucker by heart.”

He shrugged. “Just thought looking at it might help me make up my mind.”

“Comin’ right up.” Her hips swayed as she walked away.

Jake noted her curvy figure covered in tight worn denim and an equally snug T-shirt with The Fast Lane printed on the back. A vision of spiky blond hair, big brown eyes and a body dressed in sunbeam yellow flashed into his mind. It had been several days since he’d seen Rachel Manning, but she was never far from his thoughts. Partly because she was a damned attractive woman. And partly because today Little Miss Muffet was probably sorry she’d gotten between him and his family.

Behind him, the bell over the door rang as it was opened, then dinged again when it shut. He moved his napkin-wrapped eating utensils aside, then unfolded his newspaper and spread it on the Formica table in front of him. A moment later he smelled perfume and sensed someone standing beside him.

“Jake, we need to talk.”

Rachel. He braced himself, but not enough. When he looked up, his gut pulled tight again, but not from anger, annoyance or regret. It was plain old-fashioned appreciation for a beautiful woman.

“Rachel,” he said.

She was wearing shorts that flared a bit at her thighs and a tank top made out of T-shirt material with skinny straps that curved over her tanned shoulders. Her hair was combed this time in a deliberately mussed style that looked like a man had just run his fingers through it. The circles beneath her eyes were deeper and darker than they’d been a few days before. That awareness stirred the annoying protective streak he’d first noticed that morning in her apartment. Hardening himself against the feeling, he turned his attention to the baby carrier she held. Emma was supposed to be the primary focus of this newly discovered protective streak.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating the place across from him.

“This isn’t a social call.”

“Didn’t think it was, but you can still sit.”

She shifted the carrier to her other hand, then flexed her fingers as if the combined weight of Emma and the contraption had taken a toll. He reached over and took the infant seat from her, then set it on the table.

His heart contracted at the sight of the sleeping baby. Her little mouth was puckered up and moving as if she sucked an imaginary bottle in her sleep. Long, dark lashes curved above cheeks just beginning to show signs of getting chubby. Jake didn’t know the first thing about babies, but this one was a stunner in his book.

“How’s she doin’?”

“Great.”

It was just one word, but there was a softness in Rachel’s voice that made him look up. Her expression as she stared at the baby held a tenderness he wouldn’t have expected from a woman so tenacious and hard-headed.

“Everything all right?” he asked, glancing at the little girl sleeping in the seat.

“She’s perfect,” Rachel answered, placing a hand on the carrier.

Just then Sally Jean returned. “Here you go, Jake. Coffee and a menu.” She glanced at Rachel. “Need another one?”

“No,” Rachel said.

“Yes,” he answered at the same time.

“I’m not staying for dinner.”

“Have you already eaten?” he asked.

“No, but that’s not why I’m—”

“On second thought,” he told Sally Jean. “We’ll have two orders of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy.”

“I’m not hungry,” Rachel said.

“It comes with a salad or soup,” Sally Jean said.

Jake studied Rachel and figured she was a greens kind of gal. “We’ll have salad with thousand island dressing.”

“Biscuits, French rolls, or garlic toast?”

“Garlic toast,” he answered, deciding there was no way the two of them would be kissing.

“Comin’ right up,” the waitress said, then moved away.

“I came to talk to you, not to eat dinner,” Rachel informed him.

“You can kill two birds.” And in that vein, he figured buying her dinner could feather his own nest. If he was nice to her, maybe he could soften her up and talk her into bowing out gracefully.

Rachel stared at him and before she could respond, two old ladies, one with gray hair, the other bright red, slid out of the booth behind her. Jake spent a lot of time on the ranch and didn’t recognize the two women. When they started past, Gray Hair stopped by Emma’s car seat and peeked in.

“Congratulations,” she said, looking from Rachel to him. “What a beautiful baby.”

“Isn’t she?” Rachel said to them. “Cora Edens, Janie Compton, I’d like you to meet Jake Fletcher.”

“Hello,” gray-haired Cora said.

“Nice to meet you.” Flame-haired Janie stuck out her hand and Jake shook it.

“Rachel, dear,” Cora said. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“Oh, it’s not what—”

“Or pregnant,” Janie said, looking at the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Emma,” Rachel answered.

“She’s a beauty.” Cora glanced at Jake. “She’s got the same indentation in her chin as her father. I think she’ll have your coloring, too. Can’t tell much from that fuzz all over her head, but my guess is her hair will be dark.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, unsure what response to make, but knowing one was required. He could have said they weren’t married and Emma wasn’t theirs, but that was a can of worms he didn’t particularly want to open.

“Cora, Janie,” Rachel said, “Jake and I aren’t married. This isn’t what you think—”