The Rancher's Miracle Baby. April Arrington

gently over the boy’s soft brown hair. “We’re here, Brody.” Her chin trembled, and she bit her lip hard before saying, “We’re here now.”

      She stepped carefully over a large portion of the roof, the tattered shingles flapping in the wind and clacking against the rafters.

      “Don’t let him see,” Alex rasped.

      He moved swiftly to block the couple behind them, then cleared a safe path to the grass.

      Tammy walked slowly behind him, swallowing hard and concentrating on his confident movements. His brawny frame seemed massive above the razed house, and under normal circumstances his towering presence would have set her nerves on edge. But she didn’t feel the usual waves of apprehension. Only a deep sense of gratitude. And she found herself huddling closer to his back with each step, the boy in her arms growing quiet by the time they’d reached the road.

      Alex stopped and held out his hands, slight tremors jerking his fingers. “Let me have him.”

      Tammy nodded and eased Brody into his arms. Alex squatted, set Brody on his feet, then ran his palms over the boy’s limbs. He examined him closely.

      “Nothing’s broken,” he said, his strained voice tinged with wonder. “There’s not a scratch on him.”

      Brody whimpered and took two clumsy steps forward, bumping awkwardly between Alex’s knees and settling against his broad chest. He laid his head against Alex’s shirt and gripped the material with both hands.

      “I know, little man.” Alex dropped a swift kiss to the top of Brody’s head before pressing him back into Tammy’s arms. He spun away and started walking. “We better get him to the house. More clouds are rolling in.”

      Tammy looked up, her lids fluttering against the sporadic drizzle falling from a darker sky, then followed Alex. They took a different path than before, moving farther up the road before crossing to avoid the downed power line. The dirt drive leading to Alex’s house had transformed to slick mud, and what was left of the late-afternoon light died, giving way to night and leaving the ravaged path cloaked in darkness.

      Tammy swiped a clammy hand over her brow when they finally reached the front lawn. It seemed like the longest walk she’d ever taken. Her arms grew heavy with Brody’s weight as she waited outside for Alex to check the house and make sure it was structurally sound.

      “Razz,” she called softly, cradling Brody’s head against the painful throb in her chest and peering into the darkness.

      Closing her eyes, she shifted the baby to her other hip and listened for the sound of hooves or neighs but heard neither. Only the rhythmic chirp of crickets, the faint croak of frogs and a sprinkle of rain striking the ground filled the empty land surrounding them.

      Her legs grew weak, and a strange buzzing took over, assaulting her senses and mingling with the remembered images of Brody’s parents lying among the rubble.

      “You can come in.” Alex stood on the front porch, holding a camping lantern. The bright light bathed his handsome features and highlighted the weather-beaten foliage littering the steps below him. “It’s safe. Just be careful of the glass.”

      Safe. Tammy pulled in a strong breath and held Brody tighter as she made her way inside. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Not a single corner of the world felt safe anymore, and she never stayed in one place long enough to find out if it was.

      “We should probably get him out of those wet clothes.” Alex gestured toward the dark hallway and turned to close the door behind them.

      The door frame had been damaged by the storm, and he kicked the corner of it with his boot repeatedly until it shut. Tammy walked slowly down the hall, feeling her way with a hand on the wall as they drifted out of reach of the lantern’s light and arrived at the first door on the left. She fumbled around to find the doorknob, then twisted, but it was locked.

      “Not there,” he bit out.

      She jumped and glanced over her shoulder. Brody lifted his head from her chest and started crying again.

      Alex winced and looked down, cursing softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, easing awkwardly around them and moving farther down the hall. “I don’t use that room. And the windows are blown out in the guest room.” He opened a door at the end of the hall and motioned for her to precede him inside. “But you’re welcome to this one.”

      She took a few steps, then hesitated at the threshold, an uneasy feeling knotting in her stomach as she scrutinized his expression. He’d sheltered her during intense events, and she truly believed she’d seen him at one of his weakest moments back at the demolished home. But...he was still a stranger. One who obviously cared for Brody but refused to hold the boy. And she’d learned a long time ago that a kind face could mask a multitude of evils.

      Alex slowly reached out and rubbed his hand over Brody’s back. “I’m sorry,” he repeated gently. “From the looks of your truck, you’re not going to be able to drive it tonight. Power’s out. Landlines and cell service are down, so we can’t make any calls, either. I did mean what I said. You’re welcome to use this room tonight.”

      His expression softened, and his tempting mouth curved up at the corners in what she suspected was supposed to be a smile. But it fell flat, as though he rarely used it, and he turned away.

      Broken. Tammy swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. His body was agile, solid and strong. But his smile was broken.

      She straightened and followed him into the room, trying to shake off the strange thought—and the unfamiliar urge to touch him. To comfort a man. They both arose from the intensity of the day’s events. And the loss he and Brody had suffered was enough to evoke sympathy from even the hardest of hearts.

      “I pull from a well, so there’s no running water.” Alex crossed the room and riffled through the closet. Hangers clacked, and clothing rustled. “I have some bottled water on hand that I can put in the bathroom for you.” He held up a couple of shirts and a pair of jogging pants. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to put on some dry clothes, too. These will swallow you both whole, but they’ll at least keep you comfortable while the others dry out.”

      Tammy looked down and plucked at her soggy T-shirt and jeans. Brody squirmed against her, squinting against the light Alex held.

      “I’ll wait in the kitchen,” Alex said. “If you don’t mind seeing to Brody?”

      At her nod, he placed the clothes and lantern on a dresser, then left, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll take the wet clothes when you’re done and lay ’em out to dry.”

      “Thank you,” she said.

      But he was gone.

      The white light glowing from the lantern lit up half of what seemed to be the master bedroom, and the dresser cast a long shadow over an open door on the other side of the bed. The room definitely belonged to Alex. If the absence of feminine decor hadn’t hinted strongly enough, the light scent of sandalwood and man—the same one that had enveloped her as Alex had covered her in the hallway—affirmed it.

      Brody made a sound of frustration and rubbed his face against the base of her throat.

      “Guess it’s just you and me for now.” She cradled him closer, closed the door, then grabbed the lantern from the dresser. “Let’s get cleaned up, okay?”

      It took several minutes to gather what she needed from the bathroom and strip the wet clothes from Brody. He grew fussy, wriggling and batting at her hands as he lay on a soft towel on the bed.

      “Mama.” He twisted away from her touch and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Mama.”

      “I know, baby,” Tammy said, scooting closer across the mattress. “I’m so sorry.” She strained to keep her voice steady and forced herself to continue. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

      She hummed a soft tune while she worked, hesitating briefly after removing