Anything For His Baby. Michelle Major

“Gonna eat that pickle?”

      Cole handed over the spear. He’d always hated pickles. Shep wondered how many people knew that about the sheriff.

      “Sienna isn’t happy with you,” Cole said after a moment. “She talked to Paige yesterday about The Bumblebee.”

      “The Bumblebee,” Shep repeated, racking his brain what that name should mean to him. “The dilapidated house I bought?”

      “It’s not exactly dilapidated,” Cole said, his tone back to brotherly chastising. “Paige Harper is Sienna’s best friend in Crimson. Paige is upset so now Sienna’s upset—”

      “Which makes you upset,” Shep interrupted then snorted. “Come on, Cole. How whipped are you? That house is nothing. It’s a vintage eyesore.”

      “It doesn’t work that way in small towns,” Cole said patiently. “Not in Crimson, anyway. People have strong ties here, Shep. You’re going to need to respect the town’s history and character as you move forward with your project. This isn’t California, and folks around here won’t take kindly to a stranger coming in and changing everything with no regard to what it means for the community.”

      Shep felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t want to hear this. His job was to make money for Trinity, not to pussyfoot around the emotional whims of the town. He was here to open the ski resort, earn another feather for his cap then move on to whatever came next. Rosie yawned in his arms then blinked awake, her eyes lighting at the sight of the macaroni and cheese. Hopefully, what came next involved a full-time nanny. “Yeah, whatever.”

      “You always did like to do things the hard way.” Cole pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table. “I’ve got to get back. Bring Rosie over this weekend. Jase and Emily are coming for dinner on Saturday with Davey.”

      “Great,” Shep said with fake enthusiasm. “Kids and babies. My favorite.”

      “You’re the expert.” Cole got up and leaned forward as if to kiss Rosie’s head, then seemed to think better of it when she whimpered and shot him a death glare. “Shep Bennett, Mr. Mom. I wasn’t sure about you moving to Crimson, but the truth is I love having a front-row seat for this.”

      “See ya, Uncle Cole.” Shep lifted Rosie’s chubby hand and waved it at his brother. “Don’t let the door hit you in the—” He stopped himself before swearing again then narrowed his eyes when Cole chuckled.

      “See you this weekend.”

      Shep’s phone rang and he checked the screen then stifled another curse when Rosie swatted at it, knocking the device from his hand. It clattered to the floor and a young man decked out in climbing gear at the table next to him bent to retrieve it.

      “Dude,” the guy breathed. “Your screen shattered. Bummer.”

      “Bummer,” Shep repeated, dragging in a deep breath. He wondered if he’d manage to make it to the weekend.

       Chapter Three

      Paige clicked off the television, her heart beating wildly as the knocking on the front door became more insistent.

      The Bumblebee Bed-and-Breakfast was situated at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, the property surrounded by trees and set two hundred yards back from the road. It bordered Forest Service land on one side and the ski mountain sat beyond the yard out back.

      Not that the remote location at the base of Crimson Mountain made her immune to trouble with her nearest neighbor. The Morrisons, who lived on the corner, lost their minds at the tiniest infraction of covenants or Crimson’s noise ordinance. Most recently, they’d called the cops when she and Sienna, who’d been the inn’s first and only guest so far, had a dance party one night after a pitcher of too-strong margaritas.

      Paige couldn’t imagine them having a complaint with her tonight. Even with the windows open to let in the cool night breeze, noise from the television wouldn’t have drifted to their house. She’d replaced her porch light last week and pulled in the trash and recycling cans after the garbage men emptied them earlier.

      There was nothing—

      Was that a baby crying?

      She stood, tossing aside the remote and heading for the front door. Before she started bingeing cop shows, back in the day when she missed almost an entire semester of high school because of chemo and radiation, she’d watched every movie of the week she could find on DVD. The abandoned baby, left on the doorstep...or dumpster...or near the bushes, was a classic trope in those flicks. It was difficult to imagine someone doing that now, but why else would she hear crying? It wasn’t the sound of a newborn, more of a child who was having a tantrum.

      Paige opened the door to reveal Shep standing under her porch light, his daughter wailing in his arms. Rosie paused for a moment to glance at Paige, took a shuddery, hiccuping breath and then let out another sob.

      “What’s wrong?” Paige asked, automatically stepping back to let the two of them into the house.

      Shep’s normally full mouth tightened at the corners. “Nothing as far as I can tell. She usually only cries like this for the sitters, but tonight she woke up about an hour after I put her to bed. She started crying and hasn’t stopped since.” He shrugged. “The people next door called the landlord to complain. They were trying to sleep but the noise carries through the shared wall in the apartment.”

      “Is she sick?” Paige asked, reaching out to press a hand to Rosie’s forehead. The girl screamed harder, if that was possible.

      Shep shook his head. “No fever. No symptoms. She’s just upset. I don’t know what else to do.”

      “So you came here?” Paige frowned. “Why?”

      “Because she reached for you,” he said helplessly, bouncing Rosie. “July Fourth at the festival. She liked you. She doesn’t like anybody, and definitely not any of the nannies I’ve tried to hire. But she seemed to like you.”

      “I don’t think she remembers,” Paige said mildly.

      Shep closed his eyes, looking pained. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll drive her around until she falls asleep. She can’t stay awake forever.” He laughed, sounding a little hysterical to Paige. “Right?”

      “Give her to me.” Paige held out her arms, belatedly remembering that she was wearing her rattiest flannel pajama bottoms, a thin T-shirt and no bra.

      Shep stared at her chest for several long beats. She should be offended but it had been years since a man had taken an interest in her body. Shep definitely looked interested, which was saying something since he held a crying baby in his arms.

      “Sorry,” he mumbled, his face coloring. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. It’s okay.”

      Paige reached forward and plucked Rosie out of his arms, settling the screaming toddler on her hip before smoothing a finger across the girl’s dimpled cheek. “What’s the fuss about?” she asked, turning away from Shep and heading toward the hallway.

      Rosie wailed, shoulders trembling as she drew in a shaky breath. “Your little throat is going to be raw with all that crying. Can you settle down for me?” Paige leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Rosie’s sweaty head. “Make me look good in front of your daddy, okay?”

      Rosie kept crying, although it was softer now. Paige didn’t look back at Shep but continued to the kitchen, where she pulled a box of graham crackers off a shelf in the pantry. “How about a snack and then we’ll rock for a bit?” She talked to the girl in hushed tones as she opened the box and broke off a piece of graham cracker. Rosie took it and shoved it in her mouth, sucking hard.

      Paige moved around the room, telling Rosie about her day—anything to distract the child—then pointing out architectural features of the house to the toddler and recounting