Page 22 of The Cowboy and the Baby

The question came out awkwardly, like I choked on the words. Considering that I hadn’t meant to ask the question, I couldn’t believe it slipped out. To my great relief, a brief smile appeared on her face.

“Yes, but no?”

I grunted and side-stepped into the bathroom, attempting to recover some grace. “I ask because you seem like such a natural.” My eyes drifted down to Lily, who seemed content while I held her. “It seems easy for you.”

She laughed, a delightful sound I’d like to hear again. Thankfully, old sink fixtures, chipped tile along a tub, and a half-cracked mirror kept me from gawking at her. Noelle’s focus fixated on project to project, carefully cataloging them, so she didn’t notice me trying not to stare.

“Thank you, but I have no idea what I’m doing as a mom. I’m just . . . trying not to mess this up too badly.”

“I see nothing but perfection.”

After I pointed out a big issue—the toilet was in full view of the giant window that looked on the back porch, making it impossible to have any privacy with the blinds up—she said, “I never expected to raise my sister’s daughter, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That she picked up the conversation thread at all felt like a win. I handled my secondary shock over raising my sister’s daughter. She mentioned it briefly before, but I hadn’t given it much thought. Around here, family was anyone who needed support, not blood ties.

I grasped the opportunity to learn more. “That’s not quite what I was asking,” I said, inspecting a loose mirror on the wall.

Her brow lifted. “You were asking something else?”

“Yes.”

Lips quirked with amusement, she inquired, “What are you trying to ask, Cade?”

“If you wanted kids. A family. How they come to you doesn’t really matter, as much as if you want them or like the work. I’m just curious,” I tacked on, and flipped open a cupboard. Indigestion meds and half-used tubes of toothpaste filled the interior. We’d need to clean all of this out.

“Oh. I suppose that is a different question.” Noelle appeared thoughtful. “If I had met someone worth marrying and having children with? Yes. I think kids would be part of my life.”

Now that was definitely different.

And good to hear.

The list of repairs for the bathroom populated her screen.

We ducked into the master bedroom, which was twice the size of the other rooms, and strangely rectangular, with a door to the porch. Several windows kept the room light, despite Morgan’s junk accumulating in every possible corner.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Have I ever wanted to be a mother?”

She laughed again, and I thrilled to it. “Sure, Cade. Have you ever wanted to be a mother?”

“Couldn’t pay me,” I retorted. “Women tend to do and carry all the hard child-rearing stuff, and we men tag along with your good ideas and hope to come up with something intelligent in the meantime. But if you’re asking whether I want children, I’d say yes. Absolutely. Always. Big family for me, however it happens.”

She didn’t reply for so long that I thought she may not have heard, so I knocked unnecessarily on a few walls in the closet, attempting to hear what they sounded like. To my deep concern, the exterior walls sounded awfully hollow.

“How big of a family?” she asked, and I couldn’t believe she kept the thread.

I flashed her a quick smile while Lily and I extricated from the closet, lest this conversation get too serious. We were supposed to be diving into the depths of the house, not our intrinsic motivations.

Though she was far more interesting.

“I don’t have an exact number on how many. I just . . . some. Whatever is good. Growing up, it was just me and Cora, and I always wanted more siblings. Busy house, lots of food, games. You know? The good life.”

“White picket fences?”

“Too much work. Someone’s gotta paint them, right? And that’s a lot of lumber. Nah, a ranch is better. Wild places, open spaces. Let the rugrats run their energy out, then they’re too tired for trouble.”

Lily let out a little screech that drew my attention, and a twisted expression crossed her lips. A smile, I thought, though it vanished as quickly. Her tiny hands, little fists, small ears, were such a fascinating distraction.