Page 68 of Buckin' Around

She starts fussing, and Glenda appears, as if she’s been hanging outside my door waiting for Ivy’s siren song.

“Can I feed her, Spence? Your cousin wouldn’t mind, would they? I just adore babies. Had three myself, but alas, they grew up.”

She’s definitely giving me the puppy dog pleading eyes as she inches closer to Ivy, who is pulling faces and squirming.

“Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Glenda lifts Ivy from the ground, her face twisting as she says, “Oh Spence, your little one’s done a big job.” She holds her at arm’s length.

“Damn. Sorry, give her here.”

I reach for Ivy, the need to take care of her overriding the poop smell that only now hits me. “I’ll take her.”

I pry Ivy from Glenda’s grip, and she tilts her head, her brows falling.

As Glenda eyes me suspiciously, she breathes, “You know, anyone could mistake you for a baby daddy, bossman.”

My body turns rigid.

This isexactlyhow this kind of shit gets out.

One well-meaning employee.

One accidental slip of the tongue . . .

“Absolutely not. The sooner I hand this kid back, the better.”

The words are ash on my tongue.

The thought that I’m going straight to hell for that one cements the fact that I would never hand Ivy over. She is part of my life now.

After all that Riley told me last weekend, I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of inspired by the girl who stepped up and raised her family at the age of twelve. How many kids these days could cope with that?

Glenda gives me a sly wink and leaves my office.

Fuck, nothing gets past our oldest employee. Nothing.

She knew me as a kid.

She’s been here since before I was the boss and could well likely be here after I get fired from the family business if word of Ivy gets back to my father. I shut the door behind her.

“Ives, we’re on thin ice, my sweet girl. Daddy needs to keep our little secret a little bit longer.”

She babbles back at me, and I wonder what it will feel like when she says dad for the first time.

My knowledge base on babies is left wanting, but I assume she will say mom at some point, too.

Shaking the thought from my head, I grab her blanket and fold it in half on one end of my desk. Laying her down, I change her up.

My door flies open as I’m clipping her onesie together.

“Spencer, we need a hand in the barn. There’s been an accident.” I spin back to find one of the casual stable hands in my doorway.

His distraught face has me pulling Ivy from the desk half dressed and into my arms. I follow him without thinking.

We rush through the office and out into the sunshine. Crossing the gravel driveway, we’re rushing into the stables a moment later.

On one side of the barn’s open center, I find Mrs. Princeton sitting on a bale of hay, an icepack pressed to her cheek.