Page 73 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

“You ordered a cradle?” She pointed the tool at the crate where the soft wooden edge of the cradle peeked out from the packing paper straws.

“Yes.”

“And what’s in that one?” She glared at the crate in the corner.

“A rocking chair.”

Aria’s nostrils flared. “You didn’t think I’d want to have some input?”

“No.” Shit. “I figured if you didn’t like them, we could send them back and get something else.”

“When did you order them?”

“Months ago. They were both custom-made and I knew it would take time.”

She crossed her arms, her grip on both tools tightening. “And what about the nanny? I got home from work and Ron was escorting his top candidate out. He wanted to make sure I could meet her before he gave you the final recommendation.”

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t about the cradle or the chair. This was about the nanny. “It’s just an idea.”

“A nanny? You think I want a nanny?”

“Well . . . yes.”

She threw the tools to the floor of the crate with a clank and thud. “Stop doing this.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“You’re not helping!” The flush rose in her cheeks.

“Aria, this isn’t a big deal. Calm down.”

“Calm down? No. And this is a big deal.” She shook her head. “First it’s the car. Then it’s the cradle. Then it’s the nanny. You make these decisions, these important decisions, without talking to me.”

Christ. “I’m sorry.”

“Then stop doing it.” Her shoulders fell. “Don’t make decisions for me. Ask me. Share with me. Talk to me.”

“Like you talk to me?”

“I talk to you.” She planted her hands on her hips. It was then that I noticed her feet were bare amidst wood splinters and metal staples.

I shook my head and turned, stalking away. Knowing she’d follow because Aria didn’t let battles go unfought.

She caught up to me in my bedroom, where I was stowing my cufflinks.

“What was that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I went to work on my shirt’s buttons, stripping it off and tossing it in the hamper. Then I pulled a black T-shirt from a drawer and tugged it on. My slacks got traded for the jeans Aria loved so much. And I put on some tennis shoes so I could wade into the mess she’d made in the nursery because she was pissed.

Well, I was pissed too. More than I’d realized.

I was trying to help. Maybe I’d fucked it up. I should have told her about the nanny but I hadn’t expected Ron to work so quickly. I certainly hadn’t expected him to have an interviewee here at the house.

Why couldn’t Aria give me a little credit? And a little slack? I was trying to make her life easier. Why wouldn’t she let me?

None of those thoughts were voiced. They stayed trapped in my head as I stalked back to the nursery.