Heart of a Hero by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

cooing, to Phoebe talking and singing little nonsense verses. It sounded surprisingly
right.
But he shouldn’t be surprised. Phoebe had always had a sensible, motherly streak. Years ago, if someone had asked him if he could envision her as a mother, he wouldn’t have hesitated for an instant before saying yes.
    A wave of intense sadness swamped him. And now she was the mother of his child. If he hadn’t been determined to find Phoebe, he’d never even have known he had a daughter.
    Footsteps on the stairs alerted him that they were coming, and he shook off the moment of melancholy and braced himself for his first clear sight of his daughter. He knew from what he’d seen last night that her hair was some shade of red, but the low light of the nursery hadn’t yielded much more.
    Phoebe’s legs came into view, and then the rest of her appeared. She was carrying a baby girl with the wildest red hair he’d ever seen in his life. Quirking in ringlets all over her head. Even at this young age, Phoebe had pulled the front of it atop her head with an elastic hair tie. Bridget’s hair was much lighter than Phoebe’s, and far more vibrantthan Melanie’s pale strawberry had ever been. His kid’s hair looked like a live flame.
    Her face was a pretty little oval with a slightly more determined chin than was probably good, her eyes blue and sparkling as they found him. His heart skipped a beat. He actually
felt
it trip and miss, and he took a deep breath. God, she looked a lot like Phoebe.
    His throat closed up and he just stood there as they approached. Phoebe was talking to the baby as if she could understand every word she said, telling her about a friend of Mama’s from far away who was coming to stay with them for a little while.
    A little while? Ha. She might not choose to accept it, but he was here for good.
    He swallowed the thick knot clogging his voice. “Hi, Bridget,” he said. He was at a loss. What did you say to somebody this size?
    The child grinned, a wide smile that sent a cascade of drool down her chin and showed him two tiny pearly white teeth on the bottom. Then she turned her head abruptly into her mother’s shoulder.
    Before he could figure out what to say, Phoebe saved him. “Daddy,” she told his child. “Bridget, this is your daddy.”
    The baby peeked out at him with one blue eye, then grinned before hiding her face again.
    “Flirt,” said Phoebe. She walked across the room and expertly unfurled a large baby blanket while still holding the child on her hip with the other hand. Then she set the baby in the middle of the blanket.
    Bridget wobbled for a moment, then seemed to find her balance and sit straighter. “She just started sitting up by herself two weeks ago,” she told Wade over her shoulder. “Why don’t you come sit down and play with us? She’s not usually shy and she should get used to you quickly.”
    “All right.” He strove for a normal tone although his heart felt as if it were going to fly right out of his chest.
    He joined them on the brightly colored blanket. Phoebe was building a tower of blocks. Every time she’d get three or four stacked up, Bridget swiped her hand and knocked them over, squealing and chortling. Once, when Phoebe stopped for a moment, the baby smacked her little hands together and yelled, “Ack!” in a tone that left no doubt what she wanted.
    Wade hastily reached for another block. “Way to get what you want, kid.”
    Phoebe chuckled. “She has a mind of her own. And if she doesn’t get her way, she lets me know about it.”
    “Reminds me of Melanie.” He’d said it without thinking. The moment the words hit the air, he knew they’d been a mistake.
    The happiness drained out of Phoebe’s eyes, leaving them guarded and sorrowful. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Bridget does seem to have a stronger personality than I ever had.”
    He wanted to protest. There was nothing wrong with Phoebe’s personality. Just because Mel had been more vocal