Lone Star Baby (McCabe Multiples Book 5) (5 page)

His sister looked worried. “I’m not so sure. He hasn’t been the same since the accident.”

Gavin’s brow furrowed. “Medically?”

“Emotionally,” Bridgette corrected. “Swerving to avoid running over that deer changed him. He said he saw his life flash before his eyes. And he didn’t like what he saw. So far, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin chided.

“I don’t know. But I have this uneasy sense that he’s planning something.” Bridgette turned to Violet. “You have a lot of experience with young adult patients coming close to the brink, then recovering and trying to resume a normal life. Does that seem like a common reaction to you?”

Reluctantly, Violet admitted, “If something’s brewing in a person, yes, it usually erupts under the stress.” As it had with Sterling.

Gavin turned to her, his shoulder nudging hers in the process. “What should we do?”

What I didn’t
, Violet thought before she answered.

“Listen to whatever your brother has to say. And take Nicholas seriously—even if it seems like he’s coming out of left field.”

Gavin promised Bridgette, “I’ll give him a call later this evening...see if he’ll tell me what’s on his mind.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Bridgette said, standing.

The three of them said goodbye and Bridgette went back to work. Gavin and Violet left the staff lounge.

“So what now?” Gavin said as they walked toward the elevator.

Violet hated to admit just how at loose ends she was. After five years of residency, never having a moment to spare, this barely working at all would get old fast. Even if she was still trying to figure out what the next phase of her life held.

She punched the down button. “As far as work goes, I’m still waiting on the results of Carlson Willoughby’s tests, but otherwise I’m not on call today so—” Violet’s phone vibrated.

When she looked at the screen, there was an email from her sister. Reading it quickly, Violet groaned.

“Problem?” Gavin asked, rocking forward on his toes and hooking his thumbs through the denim loops on either side of his fly.

The elevator arrived and the door opened. It was a little crowded, so they had no choice but to squeeze together to avoid stepping on other passengers.

The warmth of his body sent a new flood of desire through her. “Poppy is going to set me up with a movable wardrobe system, but I’m going to have to drive to a store in San Angelo to pick up the components.”

The elevator opened up on the lobby. “Will you be able to fit it all in your SUV?”

Violet hesitated, unsure.

Gavin gestured gallantly. “My truck is available. As am I.”

Was he hitting on her? Or just being helpful? Hard to tell. “You’d really want to do that on your day off?”

His grin widened. “Sure. If you buy me lunch first.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I take it you have a place in mind.”

He fell into step beside her as they headed outside into the gloomy autumn day. “I do.”

To ensure they would be able to cart everything back to Laramie, they drove separately and ended up at a popular Mexican restaurant in San Angelo. Violet ordered the enchiladas supreme and he followed suit.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of enchiladas,” she teased as they dug in to their combination plate of chicken, cheese, beef and bean enchiladas, accompanied by a side of Mexican rice.

“I’m trying to expand my horizons.”

“Away from steak fajitas?” Which, she knew, from attending the same hospital staff luncheons for the past five years, happened to be his favorite. Not that she had been noticing or anything.

“In a lot of ways.”

His expression was both deadpan and mysterious. So why was she thinking about kissing him again? And why was he suddenly looking a tad uncomfortable, too?

“So, about those questionnaires we filled out last night...” He swallowed and took a long thirsty drink of iced tea. “Do you really think the age cutoff for applicants should be thirty-five instead of forty?”

Back to Ava and their joint responsibility, which was where their attention should be. Violet met his eyes, her mood suddenly introspective. “You think twenty-five to thirty-five is too narrow a range for prospective parents?”

“I don’t want to go any younger, but I don’t think it would hurt to go a little older. There’s something to be said for maturity.”

She nodded tensely.

His blue gaze roved her face. “You don’t look happy.”

Her appetite fading, Violet put her fork down. “It’s a big decision.”

“We’ll find the right family,” Gavin promised as an intimate silence descended between them.

“You sound so sure.”

He quirked a brow. “You doubt that?”

Violet sat back in her chair. “On an intellectual level I know that, statistically, given how many people there are in this county alone who are ready, willing and able to adopt a newborn child, it should be no problem to find a home for Ava.”

“But?” He finished his iced tea in a single draught.

“Knowing that doesn’t make the prospect of selecting parents for Ava any easier.” It was such an overwhelming responsibility! More so since she’d actually met the precious newborn and held her in her arms.

Gavin touched her hand.

Violet swallowed and pushed on around the sudden parched feeling in her throat. “What if we choose the wrong family? What if there are too many potential adoptive parents who fit the criteria perfectly? How will we choose just one set of parents without feeling like we are somehow being unfair to whoever didn’t get chosen?”

He shrugged, let go of her hand and sat back, too. “How about we cross that bridge when we get to it?”

“You’re right. I know that.” She sighed as the waitress delivered their check.

And, as promised, Violet paid it.

Luckily, they now had things to do to keep them busy.

The wardrobe components, which were supposed to be ready for her, had not yet been pulled off the shelf. So she and Gavin went around the store with a flatbed-style cart, selecting the appropriate shelving and hardware.

“How many clothes do you have?” he asked with a bemused smile.

Aware she’d gotten everything she needed, Violet took a place in one of the checkout lines. Gavin stood behind her. “You saw them last night. All those suitcases, plastic storage containers and duffel bags around my bed.”

He stacked the heavy boxes containing the movable closet onto the end of the conveyer belt. “Ah, yes, the feminine mess of it all.”

Violet set the accessories on top, then turned to him as they waited for the customer in front of them to finish. She propped her hands on her waist. “Excuse me?”

He waggled his brows, teasing, “I’ve got three sisters. I know what it looks like when they have a wardrobe crisis.”

Guilty as charged, unfortunately.

Flushing, Violet added more accessories to the conveyer belt. “I wasn’t having one,” she fibbed, unwilling to admit how the crisis she was having had spread to all areas of her life. “I just lugged the stuff up there so I could lay it all out on my bed and sort through it. Which I started to do this morning—”

“Meaning it’s even more cluttered now than it was last night?”

The young male clerk grinned as he finished ringing them up.

Violet gave an indignant sniff. “I couldn’t find what I wanted to wear to the hospital this morning. And I was in a hurry to get there.” She handed over her credit card, then stepped up to sign.

Finished, she took the receipt, smiled and thanked the clerk, then followed Gavin out the automatic doors to the parking lot.

Aware how cozy and right this was all beginning to feel, she stopped at the tail ends of their vehicles and picked up the threads of the conversation as she opened her SUV. “Although I would have rushed even more had I known I was going to have the opportunity to hold Ava for the first time this morning.”

He paused in lowering his tailgate and turned to her, an expression of unbearable tenderness on his handsome face. “It was a moment,” he admitted with surprising reverence.

Violet wasn’t surprised to hear Gavin admit that. He was compassionate, as well as practical and forthright, down to his very soul.

She
was
surprised, however, to see him look so personally affected. He’d never been one to lust after having kids, the way some guys his age did. Yet in this particular instant, she could almost swear he’d started to want a family as much as she once had with Sterling.

Only, that part of her relationship with him hadn’t worked out, either, she thought as her cell phone vibrated.

She looked at the screen and frowned.

“Problem?”

“I need to go back to the hospital. Carlson Willoughby and his wife are asking to speak to me.”

* * *

“W
E
NEED
MORE
information before we’ll be able to say for certain what’s going on,” Violet told the senior couple forty-five minutes later when she joined them in Carlson’s hospital room.

“But some of the results are in, aren’t they?” Wanda asked, wringing her hands. Today’s tracksuit was a daffodil yellow, with white racing stripes running up the sides of the pants and sleeves. “I heard some of the nurses talking...”

Violet glanced over at her patient. He looked tired and washed-out. The stress of the tests had definitely taken a toll on the eighty-two-year-old. “We’re still waiting for the radiologist’s report on the X-rays that were done today, but we do have the blood work.”

“And?” Wanda asked.

Violet consulted the chart. “Some of the numbers—white count and calcium, for instance—are up.”

“So the cancer is back.” Wanda fretted, adjusting the shoulder of her husband’s hospital gown.

Violet lifted a hand. “Not necessarily. There could be a lot of other reasons for that, and for the intermittent pain Carlson has been having. But I do want to cover all the bases and have an MRI and a PET scan done first thing tomorrow morning.”

Carlson struggled to find the remote control for his hospital bed. “So.” He plucked it out from beneath the blankets, squinted. “Then can I go home?”

“Tomorrow, after we get that done,” Violet promised.

Her patient pushed the buttons—clearly trying to sit up. Instead, the back of the bed went down. He frowned in surprise as his head hit the pillow. “Why not now?”

“Because you’re still feeling a little woozy from the medicines you were given during the upper and lower GI tests, and I don’t want you falling or fainting again.”

“Thank goodness.” Wanda sighed in relief. “I can’t handle him when he’s not thinking clearly.”

Carlson pushed the button repeatedly, obviously not understanding why he wasn’t sitting up, as he clearly wished to do. “I’m thinking just fine!” he said.

Violet winked at Wanda. She walked over to the buttons on the side of the bed and helped move the older gentleman upright. “How about I order you something to eat and drink?”

He considered. “Chocolate cake?”

Wanda scolded, “That’s not very nutritious. Especially for someone who hasn’t had anything to eat or drink all day.”

Carlson shrugged and grinned mischievously. “If I’m going to be stuck here, I may as well enjoy it.” He patted the mattress beside him, lifted the arm that held the IV aside and sent his wife an openly lascivious look. “Why don’t you come up here and join me and we’ll have another anniversary—of sorts?”

Wanda gasped at her husband’s ribald humor.

Violet chuckled and shook her head, aware it was almost dinnertime. “Let me go see what I can do.” By the time she reached the hall, she heard Wanda laughing at something Carlson had said.

Violet made sure his dinner—and dessert—was on the way, then went on upstairs to the nursery. Somehow, she was not surprised to see Gavin in the recliner-rocker, little Ava in his arms.

A more natural daddy had never been made.

“Notice anything different?” he said when she approached.

Besides the fact the sight of the two of you like this takes my breath away?

Violet forced herself to be cautious. “No nasal cannula?”

“Bingo.” Gavin grinned. “She’s breathing just fine on her own now. Bridgette says she has been all afternoon.”

“Wow.” That
was
a milestone.

Bridgette appeared with a gently warmed bottle of formula and a burping cloth. “Ready to give this a try?” she asked them both.

Another milestone? Already?

Gavin stood and motioned for Violet to take his place in the chair.

As soon as she had, he handed baby Ava over.

“Violet is.”

Chapter Five

Violet had never seen Gavin opt out of any medical procedure. But it was clear, from the look on his handsome face, that he was excusing himself from this.

Telling herself it came with the temporary guardianship, Violet took the bottle of gently warmed formula and pressed it against Ava’s lips. The newborn’s mouth turned out in a pouty frown.

“Come on now, sweetheart,” Violet whispered, trying again. “You have to eat.” Otherwise it would be back to taking her nutrition through a tube that went straight to her stomach via gavage feeding.

Eyes still shut, Ava pushed the bottle away with a thrust of her lower lip and replaced it with her thumb.

Violet gently eased the tiny finger out and replaced it with the nipple. Seeming not to realize it wasn’t her thumb she had in her mouth, Ava sucked on the tip with just enough pressure to cause a bubble to appear in the milky liquid. Her tiny brow furrowed as she got her first taste of nutrient-rich formula. The infant paused, as if thinking about it, then suckled again, just as cautiously.

Violet and Gavin grinned. “Congratulations,” Bridgette said with a wink of approval. “You win a Mommy Gold Star.”

Mommy, Violet thought a little wistfully.

Aware that for the first time since Sterling had died—and all her romantic dreams along with him—she could envision herself one day becoming a mother. When the time and the man, if there ever was another man able to take Sterling’s place in her heart, was right, that was.

“It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?” Gavin murmured, watching Ava continue to feed. “And such a responsibility.”

Realizing the future well-being of the child in her arms rested on her and Gavin, Violet nodded. “I just hope we’re able to do right by her,” she whispered.

“We will,” Gavin said firmly, confident as ever.

Looking into his eyes, Violet could believe it.

She and Gavin might not know a lot about taking care of a newborn infant, but they were both dependable adults and quick studies.

Together, she imagined that they could handle whatever came up, until the time came when they bundled Ava off to her permanent home.

In the meantime, they had a mission to accomplish.

A wave of affection pouring through her, Violet watched the baby’s little bow-shaped lips work. Then she looked back at Gavin’s sister. “How much should she take before I stop to burp her?”

“An ounce would be good,” Bridgette said with the authority of a pediatric nurse before moving off to tend to another patient.

“I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” Gavin murmured, pulling up a chair. He watched, entranced, and Violet shared his fascination. She imagined this was how most new parents felt—completely besotted, even as they were also a bit overwhelmed with the sheer responsibility of it all.

She smiled back at him, amazed at how close she felt to him, too, in this moment. “Give a baby a bottle? Sure I’ve done that. But never to a child this young. And I’ve never given any infant their
very first
bottle-feeding.”

Gavin leaned closer, his jaw brushing Violet’s shoulder. He took Ava’s free hand in his, her palm looking impossibly small and delicate resting against his. Grinning, he let Ava wrap her fist around his little finger and hold on tight. “She seems to like it,” he observed as Ava’s other hand came up to explore the bottle.

“She does at that,” she said softly.

For several more minutes they watched as Violet worked to get Ava her nutrition in this new and important way. Eventually, though, the progress ceased.

Noting the infant had slowed her feeding, Violet set the bottle aside and gently shifted Ava to an upright position over her shoulder. She rubbed Ava’s back until a ladylike burp escaped her parted lips. The baby sighed. Gavin and Violet both chuckled.

Noting Ava had taken only half an ounce, Violet settled her back in her arms and offered the bottle again. Ava sighed sleepily, shook her head. Violet tried again. With a yawn, Ava accepted the nipple but refused to wake enough to suckle.

Several more minutes passed.

Nothing changed.

Gavin signaled they needed assistance.

“I couldn’t get her to take any more formula,” Violet told Meg when she came over to help.

The nursing supervisor made a note on Ava’s chart of the food consumed, then transferred the baby back to her warming bed. “This was good for the first time,” she told them.

“What’s the goal?” Gavin asked.

Being careful not to disturb the monitor wires taped to Ava’s chest, Meg changed Ava’s diaper. “We want to get her to the point she’s taking in two ounces of formula by bottle every two hours, and gaining an ounce a day.”

Not sure whether she was in physician or mom mode, Violet typed the info into her phone. “What’s she doing now?”

“She’s been gaining half an ounce a day since she arrived at LCH. When she was first born, it was more like a quarter of an ounce. So she has a ways to go before she can be released. In the meantime,” Meg advised with the experience of a mother of four and grandparent to a dozen more, “you two should head home and get as much rest as you can in anticipation of the very busy days and nights ahead.”

* * *

V
IOLET
AND
G
AVIN
walked out of the hospital together. They paused in front of his pickup. The bed of the truck was still covered with the tarp he had draped over their purchases in San Angelo. The backseat and cargo compartment of Violet’s SUV were similarly filled with bulky bags and boxes.

“Want me to drive this stuff out to McCabe House now?” he asked.

Abruptly looking a little skittish, as if she were wondering if he intended to put the moves on her again, she hesitated. “Sure you don’t want to just do it tomorrow?”

He lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug, his need to claim her as his growing by leaps and bounds. “Why put off tomorrow what can be done today?”

She tilted her head, studying him closely from beneath her dark lashes. “You haven’t had dinner.”

How did she know he was hungry again? For her and food. “Neither have you,” he pointed out, stepping closer.

Amusement glimmered in her eyes. “I’m not cooking for you.”

“Good.” He tried not to think about all the things he wanted to do to make her go weak in the knees. “’Cause I’m not cooking for you, either.” He tapped her playfully on the nose. “I will stop and get a pizza for both of us en route, however.”

She radiated an indifference he hoped she didn’t really feel. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“It’s only fair.” Especially if it eventually meant another chance to hold her in his arms. Maybe get in another kiss, or two, or three... “Since you paid for lunch, I’ll spring for dinner.”

“Okay, if you insist.” She unlocked her SUV, climbed behind the wheel with a shake of her head and waited for him to close the door. When he did, she put down the window and leaned out to add, “But I can’t help but think you’re getting the short end of the stick here, cowboy.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Not to worry. I’ll figure out a way to collect.”

* * *

V
IOLET
KNEW
G
AVIN
was only teasing, that the only way anything amorous would ever happen between them was if she wanted it to happen. Still, her mind was filled with tantalizing thoughts as she drove to McCabe House.

It was nearly seven when she arrived. The crew was gone. The container of construction debris was full. And the stable-house and landscape of the ranch was dark as could be.

Reminding herself to get some of the outdoor lights set on timer, Violet left her headlamps on, got out, opened up the stable-house and turned on the interior and exterior lights.

It felt only slightly less lonely. She went back to turn off her SUV and begin the process of unloading her purchases.

Gavin pulled up a short time later. He carried in a pizza box, a plastic container of salad and a six-pack of Texas beer. “You didn’t tell me what kind of pizza to get, so I had to guess.”

She cleared the wrought-iron table to make way for the food. “The suspense is killing me.”

He opened the box with a flourish. “The Tex-Mex special, of course.”

Made with red enchilada sauce, jack-cheddar cheese, chorizo, peppers and onions, it was indeed her absolute favorite. “Gold star for you,” she murmured.

“Is the way to a woman’s, ah...”

She guessed where he was going. “Heart or bed?”

He lifted his hand as if about to take the witness stand. “I’m taking the Fifth on that.”

“I figured. And if you want to know the truth,
neither
.”

“Really?”

She spread her napkin across her lap. “It’s men who can be enticed with a good meal.”

“Exactly why you’re
not
going to cook for me?”

Violet blushed despite herself. “I think I’ll take the Fifth on that.”

They both grinned.

Violet moved the conversation to more neutral territory. When they finished eating, she thanked him again for dinner as they cleared away the mess. Adding facetiously, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get on my good side.”

Gavin carried the trash outside to the cans. “That would imply you have a bad side.”

Violet lingered in the doorway, admiring the silhouette he cast. Broad shoulders, trim waist, cute butt, long muscular legs beneath the jeans. What was not to like?

“You don’t.” He removed the tarp from the back of his truck.

Violet had been put in the Angel category once. Not again. “Sure I do,” she vowed, matter-of-fact.

Together they carried in the boxes, then went back for more.

He slanted her a skeptical glance. “You have flaws?”

With a pensive sigh, she stacked shelving poles in the corner, out of the way. “Plenty of them.”

He followed suit, dusted off his hands. “List ’em.”

Trying not to notice how he towered over her whenever they stood side by side, she led the way up the steps to the Conestoga wagon. Throwing back the flap, she pointed to the stacks of clothes on her bed. “I’m hopelessly messy.”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard of worse things.”

Deciding she might as well carry some of the discarded clothing down to the sofa, she grabbed an armload. Looking not the least bit put off, Gavin followed suit.

“I really can’t cook all that well,” Violet continued affably. And that was something she intended to remedy now that she had a few months off ahead of her.

Another shrug. “Join the club.”

She picked up two suitcases and brought those down the stairs, too. “I’m hopelessly idealistic.”

Eyes narrowing, Gavin continued giving her a hand. “Yeah. I can see where that would be a problem,” he allowed, more seriously now.

“Because you’re cynical to a fault.”

He followed her back up to her bedroom, looking casually at home once again. “Practical,” he corrected, “and it’s a virtue.”

Violet plucked several pairs of shoes from the floor and tossed them through the opening onto the floor below. “Not if you never even
hope
for anything to work out exactly the way you wish.”

He was so tall he had to bend his head to keep from hitting the canvas wagon top. Folding his arms in front of him, he theorized. “Maybe I’ve just learned to settle for whatever I can get and be happy with that.”

“How come?” she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Part of it probably goes back to my parents dying in that accident when I was about to start medical school.”

That tragedy had reverberated throughout Laramie County and she studied the lingering sadness in his expression. “And the rest?”

“No one gets it all, Violet,” he said, his tone low and rough.

“My parents have. They have a love that’s endured. Six daughters. Four sons-in-law and grandchildren. Extended family. Thriving careers. A nice home.” She sighed wistfully. “Four of my sisters are pretty happy now, too. And Poppy will be, once she and Trace get the family they want.”

Gavin caught her hand in his, held her when she would have run. “Whereas you...?”

Tipping her head back, she took a deep breath. “Lost—”
and let down
“—the only man I ever loved.”

He was silent, considering.

Gently, he stroked his thumb across the back of the hand he held. His eyes probed hers. “So you don’t think you could ever love again?”

Could? It was more a question of
would
. Violet bit her lip. Not sure she wanted to risk that kind of heartache. Not sure she could go on indefinitely without romantic love, either. And still have any kind of real happiness, anyway. “I’m not sure I
want
to love again,” she said finally.

Clearly not the answer the man in front of her was looking for. Leveraging his grip on her hand, Gavin pulled her against him. “Then how about just having an affair?” he asked huskily.

* * *

A
N
AFFAIR
WAS
NOT
what Gavin wanted from Violet. It was also the surest way to bring her back to life. To make her admit that she was still a flesh-and-blood woman who had her whole life ahead of her. If she would only allow herself to want more.

“Gavin...” A low sound escaped her throat as his head lowered to hers.

He’d half expected her to offer some resistance, even if it was only token. And she did, going completely still at first, then slowly, inevitably lifting her arms to wreathe his shoulders and sinking against him.

“Tell me you don’t enjoy kissing me.” Appreciating the sweet, hot, tempting taste of her mouth, he ran a hand down her spine, bringing her so close she could feel his hardness pressing against her. Lifting his lips from hers, he strung kisses along her jaw, her ear, the nape of her neck, and felt her quiver in response. “Tell me you don’t enjoy this.”

She moaned at the onslaught of pleasure inundating them both. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him with a wildness beyond his most erotic dreams. “I’m human.”

“Exactly.” Satisfaction roaring through him, he savored the taste and feel of her. “I am, too.” He pulled her closer still and went back to kissing her. Slowly and evocatively now. Until she went up on tiptoe and rocked against him, her hands sliding over his shoulders, down his back. Pressing lower, lower still.