The Doctor's Second Chance

No, his dates were more into skydiving or mountain climbing than children. But he wasn’t going to stoop to answer her snooty question. She could think badly of him all she wanted. He didn’t value her opinion unless it had to do with Abigail. “I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”

“My price? Quit bad-mouthing me to people in town.”

Stunned by her bluntness, he huffed. “I’ve only spoken the truth.”

“There’s no way you know every detail of the contract negotiations. Get the facts straight before you start smearing someone’s reputation.”

Oh, he knew all about the contract negotiations between her and Paul and Edith—and how she’d found fault with the way the business had been run, had brought in her expensive Atlanta lawyer to do her bidding. Jake even knew the final sale price—which he thought entirely too low for something his aunt and uncle had built for decades, since before Jake’s parents died.

Looking around the room at the same child-friendly posters and colorful furniture his aunt and uncle had lovingly put in place made him sad. Jake wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t let the doctor from the huge city clinic come in acting as if his family were bumpkins, and taking advantage of them, without repercussions.

Despite his opinion of her, though, he needed her help. For the baby’s sake. “Will you please help me with Abigail?” The words grated in his throat, nearly choking him.

She stared into his eyes until the moment became uncomfortable. Briefly, he thought he saw pain, but then the pediatrician snatched a diaper out of the bag. “Helping you set up for a baby is not something I can bill as a medical service.”

“I’ll pay you directly, like a babysitting subcontractor.”

“I’ll give you an hour.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he laid Abigail on the exam table. “Thank you.”

Violet made quick work of the diaper, so smoothly the little gal barely stirred from her sleep. “I’ll teach you to do this on her next diaper change.”

Once she was done, she handed the baby back to him. He gently buckled her into her car seat, even managing not to wake her. Maybe he’d get the hang of this temporary fatherhood job after all.

As he lifted the carrier, Abigail suddenly cried out as if in some sort of pain.

“Did your cousin happen to mention the baby being colicky?” the doc asked over the screeching cries.

He swung the car seat back and forth, trying to soothe her. “No.”

“This might be a long few nights for you, Jake.”

Few nights? If only...

“That diaper bag is all I have,” he said. “I guess I need to stop and buy some supplies on the way home.”

“I don’t mind picking up the basics for you before I come over.”

“But—”

“You can pay me back later.”

Before he could refuse, she said, “I heard you moved into your aunt and uncle’s house. I’ll be there shortly.” She was no-nonsense, used to being obeyed. She breezed out of the room, presumably to show him out.

When they reached the front door, she unlocked it and held it open.

“I appreciate it.” With a nod, he headed out, his tiny second cousin or cousin-once-removed or whatever she was to him blasting his ears.

“Come on now, Abigail,” he cooed in his best soothing voice, a tone he didn’t even know he could make.

He lifted her carrier to the truck’s backseat. Once again, he struggled to buckle the car seat in place.

“How about I show you how to do that?” Violet said from behind him.

When he agreed, she made her way between him and the truck, spun the car seat around backward and scooted it to the middle seat belt. “Infants this age must be rear-facing. And there’s supposed to be a base that stays in your vehicle that the seat latches into. Until you buy a new one, which I recommend, the strap goes through here.” She pointed to a slot on the back. With the seat facing the correct direction, the seat belt easily slipped through and locked Abigail in place.

“Now that makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh. “Should have thought of it myself.”

Violet turned and faced him, looking satisfied. She was so close the evening sun reflected off flecks of gold in her eyes.

He stepped back, allowing her to slip past him. She did so quickly and darted toward the office building, as if anxious to get away.

He felt almost guilty for the things he’d thought and said about her. Almost. “Thank you, Dr. Crenshaw. I know you didn’t have to do all this, to go the extra mile.”

She stiffened as if surprised and glanced at him over her shoulder. “My purpose in life is to help children, Mr. West.”

Of course she wasn’t acting out of kindness toward him. But he could live with that.

With a nod, she stepped inside and shut the door.

Hoping the sound of the engine might help lull Abigail to sleep, Jake hopped in and started the truck. By the time he’d driven halfway home, she had quieted.

Thank You, Lord.

Now, if You’d just help me find a way not to alienate the doc before Remy gets back, I’d be doubly grateful.

Chapter Two (#ulink_a1631894-66a1-5768-a021-a90de496ce7e)

Violet walked up to the front door of the cute, brick Craftsman-style bungalow with its perfectly landscaped and manicured lawn. The West home backed up to her tiny rental house. Literally. Nothing but a low row of hedges separated their backyards.

The huge front porch with a swing and window boxes cascading with petunias invited her to come sit a while. Exactly the feeling she’d dreamed about having in a small town. If only she could find time to make some friends.

Holding three bags of newborn necessities in her left hand, she rapped on the door with the other. Time to show this clueless man how to take care of his baby cousin.

Jake opened the door, his broad shoulders and husky physique filling the space, making her stomach flutter.

No, no fluttering allowed.

“Hey, come on in,” he said as he reached for the bags with strong arms. “Let me take those.”

He appeared to be six-one or six-two, maybe two hundred twenty-five pounds. A large man, built of solid muscle without a pinch of fat.

“Thanks, but, uh...” Focus. “There’s more in the car. I left it open for you.”

“Got it. You can head on back to the kitchen.”

She stepped inside and passed through a well-used living room fitted with older, broken-in furniture. Abigail slept soundly in her carrier on the worn tweed couch. Violet kept going until she found the kitchen and then began to unload the bags.