The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby. Teresa Carpenter

guess from the blue blanket. And it hasn’t been substantiated yet. You called him a boy, too.”

      “He arrived at the same time you did.”

      “You don’t know what time I got here.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Seems to me he arrived at the same time you did.”

      How dare he accuse her of such an atrocious act? She fully admitted she looked out for number one. You had to put yourself first when no one else did. But she had a soft spot for kids, got along with them better than a lot of adults.

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “And as you’re so quick to claim, it’s your doorstep.” She made a point of pulling open the neck of her shirt and looking from the baby to the man. “I think he has your eyes.”

      His frown turned ferocious. “That’s not my kid.”

      “Are you sure?” she persisted just to aggravate him. “He looks about three or four months old. Think back about a year, something will come to you.”

      “There is no possibility the child is mine.”

      “How can you be so sure? A lot of men have vague memories when it comes to things like this.”

      “I know.”

      “Oh, right.” She rolled her eyes at his arrogance. “You know.”

      “I haven’t been with a woman since I moved to River Run.” Acknowledgment of what he’d revealed came sharp on the heels of his outburst. “Ah, hell.”

      “Why?” The word burst from her. Shocked, she ran her gaze over him. “You’re not bad-looking and your body is smoking hot.”

      “I have my reasons, which are none of your business.” The grimness of his tone warned her the topic was closed.

      “Okay.” She valued her own privacy too much to disrespect other people’s rights to the same. “We’ve established he’s not mine and not yours, so who is he? Was the seat all that was with him? Was there a diaper bag? Maybe there’s a note.”

      “I’ll check.” Happy for action, he headed for the door.

      While he was gone she went through the seat. She found a pacifier and a soggy piece of paper. She was trying to shake it open when Nate returned with a diaper bag.

      “What’s that?” he demanded.

      “It was in the seat.” She handed the paper to him. “I think it’s the note we’re looking for.”

      Sitting beside her, he carefully unfolded the paper and spread the note. He took up a good portion of the couch and Michelle would have moved away from the large bulk of him, but she wanted to see the note.

      Plus he was warm. And he smelled good.

      So instead of sensibly moving away, she scooted closer and peered over his large arm. Pretending not to notice his big hands and the thick width of his wrist, she read the note.

      Nate,

      This is your cosin Jack. I never wanted a kid. Im too old and I cant take care of him and work. I gotta work to stay outta the joint. Jack talked good about you. He was good to me so Im giving his kid to you. If you don’t want him giv him to some body to giv him a good home.

      “Well, I’m off the hook. Too bad for you,” Michelle muttered. The letter offended her. She knew desperation, knew self-absorption, and she could never abandon a child. She suddenly had new respect for her father, who’d at least accepted the responsibility of raising her.

      “Joint?” she sneered.

      “She means jail.”

      “I know what joint means. She’s barely literate, but that’s no excuse for abandoning her baby. How could she give her son away? What about your cousin Jack? Where is he?”

      “Dead.”

      Oh, man. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

      “He was killed in a bar fight five months ago.”

      “Oh.”

      “Don’t say it like that.” The eyes he turned on her were grieving. “Like he was a lowlife drunk. Jack was a nice guy, but he was troubled. He should never have followed me into the service. Some men aren’t meant to be killers. A stint on the front line messed him up good, and then they sent him home. But the damage was done. He began drinking, had a hard time keeping a job.”

      Nate rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “He was excited about the baby. Becoming a father was the first thing he cared about in a long time. And then he was gone. He didn’t even get to see his son.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said again, with more feeling this time. It was a sad story. She looked down at the lump of the baby under her shirt and thought he had a hard time ahead of him. She didn’t remember her mother, she’d died when Michelle was two, but she had been loved, coddled during those first formative years. Little Jack didn’t even have that.

      When she looked up, she found the sheriff watching her.

      “You need to call Child Services.”

      “Why?”

      Her eyebrows lifted, giving away her surprise. “So they can come get Jack, of course.”

      He shook his head. “They’d only try to locate his next of kin, and that’s me, so there’s no need to call them.”

      “But you aren’t equipped to take care of him.”

      “No,” he said grimly, “but it looks like I have little choice.”

      “So what does that mean? What are you going to do?”

      He shrugged. “Raise him.”

      She blinked at him. “Just like that?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Wow.” What did it say about him that he hadn’t even hesitated? That he was honorable? Responsible? Both fit with him being a sheriff. “You’re not even going to think about it?”

      “My uncle took me in, taught me what it meant to be a man. Jack was like a brother to me. Of course I’m going to take care of his kid.”

      “That’s huge. There aren’t many men I know who would just take a baby in like that.”

      “Then they aren’t men.”

      That was a pretty tough stance. But after a moment’s thought, Michelle nodded. He was right. One thing she could say about her dad, he’d never tried to give her away.

      “Do you have to start tonight? Couldn’t you call Child Services to take him until you move into your new place and get all the gear you’ll need?” How could she work on the house with a baby around? They required care and feeding, and quiet.

      His hands went to his hips and he shook his head, his expression forbidding.

      “Ms. Ross, if anyone is leaving tonight, it’s you. As it is, you’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. Because this is my place for the next four months.”

      “But I need to sell the house. And I need to make improvements.”

      “Not my problem.”

      “But it’s my house.”

      “And I have a lease. We’ve been over this.”

      “But—”

      He held up a hand. “There are rental laws. Read them. Then we’ll talk.”

      Michelle wanted to bite the offending hand. Arrogant jerk. It wasn’t her fault her father rented the place without letting her know. She had the right to move on with her life and selling this house was a big part of that.

      But she was smart enough to know pressing the issue wouldn’t gain her any