Page 71 of The Rancher Who Swore Off Love
Parents.
The word dropped into her mind like a stone into still water, and the ripples spread outward in every direction. With her and Logan already married and now kissing, little Miriam would actually have a proper set of parents.
“Come on.” She turned before she could blush even harder. “Let’s go get her.”
They walked the hallway side by side. Close enough that his arm brushed hers twice, and she rubbed her fingertips against his.
Miriam slept in her usual way. Sprawled with her mouth open just enough that each exhale came out in a soft whistle. Grace slid both hands under her and lifted her slowly. The baby shifted against her chest with that particular weight that only a sleeping infant had. Somehow denser than their actual size.
Logan stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. The lamplight caught one side of his face and left the other in shadow, and the side she could seehad that expression again. The open one. The unguarded thing underneath all his fences.
She shifted Miriam higher. “What?”
“Nothin’.”
“You’re starin’.”
“I ain’t starin’.”
“Logan, you are starin’ at me like I’m a fence post that needs bracin’.”
The corner of his mouth tugged. “That ain’t even close to what I’m thinkin’.”
She chuckled. “Logan, I know we’re already married, but it’s a bit too fast to—”
“Can I carry her?”
Grace blinked. “Huh?”
“To the nursery. I want to carry her.”
“Oh… uh…” She transferred Miriam into his arms. “Sure.”
The baby shifted during the handover in that dangerous moment where a sleeping infant surfaced just enough to decide whether to accept the change or scream about it. Her face scrunched. One fist opened, searched, found Logan’s collar, and grabbed hold.
She sighed. Settled. Burrowed into his chest as if she’d always been there, like his heartbeat ran at whatever frequency babies needed to hear to believe the world held steady.
His hand spread across Miriam’s back, and Grace watched the tension leave his shoulders the way water left a tipped bucket. All at once.
In the nursery, he lowered Miriam into the crib with both hands steady, knees bent so the angle stayed even, supporting her head until the last possible second. This man split logs, mended barbed wire, and wrestled steers, but he held babies like they might dissolve if he breathed too hard.
He pulled the blanket up and tucked it under her arms the way Grace always did.
Then he looked at Grace.
“Walk with me?”
***
The night air hit her face like a palm dipped in cold water. Sharp and full of that pine-and-mineral bite that Colorado nights packed.
Logan saddled Penny and Dutch in the dark, finding buckles and straps the way Grace’s hands found spice jars in the kitchen.
“Where are we goin’?”
She swung up into the saddle. She’d gotten better at it. Not graceful by any means—she still landed with a thud that made Penny’s ears swivel—but functional.
“Somewhere quiet.”
