him to prove she was worth fighting for, that they were worth fighting for.
I never fought you.
No, he’d never fought her and not just over their daughter. Even when they’d been kids themselves, he’d walked away from arguments. She wondered if his threatening to fight her now was just ironic or a truckload of bad karma come to park in her driveway.
“Mom?”
“Coming,” she called back to Bree. She reached for the baby. “Here, I’ll put him to bed.”
“I’ll do it.”
She froze, her arms still out. “You?”
“I have put a baby down before.”
Sure he had. A few times. And always when Gerry or Fay was there with him and Bree. “I don’t want to keep—”
“You’re not,” he said, already heading toward the hall. “Where’s the crib?”
“I have a portable one set up in my bedroom.” Her bedroom where she hadn’t made the bed or picked up her clothes in, oh...two days now. “Really,” she said, hurrying after him, “you don’t have—”
He turned. “Maddie. You have your hands full. Let me help.”
She didn’t want his help. Not tonight, not with his nephews, not with their daughter. She had to do everything herself. It was the only way she could protect herself from getting hurt again.
“Mom!” Bree cried over the sound of Elijah screeching.
No, Maddie thought again, she didn’t want his help. But maybe she could accept it. Just this once.
“It’s the last room on the right,” she said, gesturing at her closed bedroom door. “I left the lamp on. You can just see yourself out when you’re done.”
“I’ll wait.”
“That’s not necessary.” And not what she needed after a very long day.
He met her eyes over the baby’s head. “I’ll wait.”
Damn him for being so immovable. But she wasn’t going to argue with him, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acting like a shrew—again.
“Fine.” See? He wasn’t the only one who could be calm, cool and collected. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
Except she wasn’t. Out as soon as she could have been, that was. She took her sweet time, drawing out what should have been a ten-minute deal into twenty. Would have taken even longer but she’d no sooner tucked Bree and Elijah into Bree’s bed when they were both asleep. Still, she checked on Mitchell, only slightly mollified to find him safe and sound in the portable crib, a blanket covering him.
It wasn’t until she was literally dragging her feet down the hallway that she realized she was stalling. But that wasn’t what really got her goat, oh, no. What was so much worse was why she was stalling.
She was nervous. Neil Pettit made her nervous, made her palms sweat and her pulse race. Made her want to run and lock herself in her bedroom until he got tired of waiting and left.
And that would not do. None of it.
Head high, shoulders back, she stepped into the kitchen only to have her stomach jump to find him sitting at the table, his legs stretched out, his shoulders broad, his shirt clinging to his chest.
It was just Neil. Her stomach, and other parts of her, stopped jumping for him a long time ago.
What right did he have to be sprawled out like that, completely comfortable and at ease, looking for all the world as if he owned the damn place? This was her place. Her home. Just as Shady Grove was her town.
She was the one in control, of the situation, her feelings and her reaction to him.
Hey, if a girl couldn’t lie to herself, who could she lie to?
“All settled?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“Hopefully.” She crossed to the fridge. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
She didn’t, either, but grabbed a beer anyway. Opened it and took a sip. “Let’s go out to the porch. I don’t want to wake the kids.”
Or have a repeat of that cozy domestic scene they’d had in her kitchen a few mornings ago.
Outside, she lit the lantern on the table, more to keep mosquitoes away than for light, and sat on the bench to the right of the door—and immediately realized her mistake. The night surrounded them, thick and silent, the flame from the lantern illuminating the harsh planes of Neil’s face as he sat next to her. The sky was a dark canvas dotted with glowing stars and a brilliant moon, the air soothing and still and expectant, as if the night itself was holding its breath.
And Neil, the sharp scent of wood smoke clinging to him, sitting so close that