His Baby Dilemma. Catherine Lanigan

his jeans pocket. He was silent.

      “A boy?” Gina asked, reaching out to touch Jules’s sleeve.

      Sam put his hands on Gina’s shoulders and leaned closer, his affection for her evident in his eyes and his gestures. “He looks just like you, Mica.”

      “Sure he does,” Mica said bitterly, turning away from them to stare at the horse barn.

      He was shutting her out—and his mother. That’s odd.

      “How old is he?” Sam asked.

      “Six months. He’s a very good baby.”

      Gina raised her eyes to Grace. “You didn’t tell us.” She looked at Mica. “And you didn’t, either!”

      “Gina,” Grace began sheepishly, “Mica couldn’t tell you because he didn’t know. I never said a word—until today.”

      “He does look just like you did when you were a baby, Mica,” Gina said, ignoring Grace’s revelation. Without asking permission, she reached over and took Jules, cradling him in her arms. “It’s cold out here. I think we should all go inside and talk.”

      Sam opened the door and stood back for Grace and Gina to enter. “I’ll make a fire.”

      Grace turned back to Mica. “Are you coming?”

      “No,” Mica said, then rushed up the stairs to his apartment.

      “He’s had one too many shocks today,” Gina said.

      Grace frowned. “You mean there’s more than finding out he has a son?”

      “Yes. Now come on in. We have a lot to discuss.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      THE WALLS OF Mica’s apartment were closing in on him. His heart was racing as if he’d just lifted the John Deere tractor off its tires with both hands. He couldn’t catch his breath.

      A son?

      When Grace had pulled up, he’d been caught between elation and shock. For a brief moment, he’d actually thought she’d come to back to see him. That she was back in town to stay. Back in his life.

      He’d been a fool.

      A baby. How had he missed that? He’d known something was wrong when Grace hadn’t answered his texts and emails, though he’d chalked it up to her busy career. And when she’d continued to ignore him, his hurt had turned inward. He should have seen her silence as the red flag it was. Should have pressed her, tried to find out what was going on.

      But ultimately, she was the one who should have reached out.

      Told him the truth.

      And to think only this morning he’d considered her an honest person.

      She was about as honest as a cat burglar.

      That’s exactly what she is. She swoops into town, takes what she wants from me and leaves. Then, when that doesn’t work out for her, she flies in again and deposits her unwanted “mistake” on my doorstep.

      She was a piece of work.

      Mica rubbed the back of his neck. Grace had betrayed him in the worst way. As contradictory as his emotions were, he mourned the loss of those precious days in Jules’s life that he’d never get back. How had Mica spent those days? He’d been here, brooding, while his son was learning to smile, to roll over, experiencing so many things for the first time. Despite all he’d lost in the accident, Mica had held on to the dream of one day becoming a father. It had been his one remaining beacon of light.

      At the same time, Mica was in no position to take care of a baby. Not yet. As the youngest of four, he’d never changed a diaper. Sure, he played with his nephew, Zeke, but when he got cranky or hungry, Mica handed the baby back to Gabe or Liz.

      He raked his fingers through his thick hair, hoping to hold down the top of his head so he wouldn’t explode. Grace had to be out of her mind. None of this was logical. Was it?

      He paced the room. His mother was right. Jules was one cute baby. And Grace had him dressed in a little navy jacket with a matching hat. Like he was a doll. Mica would have to find baby cowboy boots. They did make them for babies, didn’t they?

      A baby. My son.

      Suddenly, his anger deflated and the liquid steel that had been running through his veins dissipated. He collapsed into his recliner chair. “My baby.”

      A few moments later, the door swung open. Grace stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and fire in her blue eyes. Her blond hair spread over her shoulders like a veil of gold. She was stunning. He was glad he was sitting down. The pain of her betrayal crept back onto his shoulders like an iron monkey.

      “Grace,” he said with as little emotion as he could muster. It took all his self-control not to shut the door in her face. “I don’t want to see you. Or talk to you.”

      “I get that.” She came in without an invitation and closed the door with a bit more force than he’d expected. “But that’s what I’m here for. To talk. All day and night and all week, until I have to go back.”

      His eyes widened. “You’re only here for a week?”

      “Nine days.”

      “Well, isn’t that nice. What do you plan to accomplish in nine days?”

      “It’s all I had.”

      “And I have all the time in the world. It doesn’t work this way, Grace.”

      “Well, Mica, that’s the reality. And I have to make this work. In nine days I intend to teach you everything you need to know about taking care of a baby. Feeding him, diapering, bathing him. Loving him.”

      “What do you know about love, huh? From my perspective, I see dishonesty. Secrets. Hurting others for the sake of your precious career.”

      She approached him. Her face softened, but he didn’t understand why. “I deserved that, Mica,” she said, her voice trembling.

      “And more,” he muttered.

      “Mica, please listen to me...” There was compassion in her tone, and though he was trying not to let her demeanor affect him, he was rapidly losing ground.

      He rubbed his neck again. Something just wasn’t right. Was she acting a part? After all, she’d spent most of her life learning how to please the most critical judges. And he was sitting in judgment of her right now. His wariness was well-placed. “I suppose you’ve sucked my mother into your little scheme.”

      “Scheme? You think Jules is part of some sinister plot? To what end? To cause you grief? More pain?” She walked toward him, gesturing with her hands. “Come on. I can take it. Give it to me. Tell me about how I’m intent on blowing up your engineering career. How I’m going to cause you to miss out on a sponsor you’ve been courting for the past year. I want to hear it,” she demanded. “Tell me how, exactly, I’m messing up your life.”

      He let out a harsh breath. “Why are you really here, Grace? You want money? Because that’s the only reason I can come up with that makes any sense. You know perfectly well that I’m in no shape to take care of a baby.”

      “You’re wrong on all counts. I don’t want your money or your family’s money, and there’s no scheme. All I want is for you to take care of Jules. Not forever. Just for two months or so. I need this time, Mica. I’m on the cusp of something so big, it will establish me in the fashion world. My career can only grow from there. I just need this spring show. Then I’ll come back and take Jules off your hands. You won’t have to worry. If it’s what you want, you’ll never see us again...” she said, trailing off.

      “You could have hired a nanny to take care of Jules. Why me?”