Love Inspired May 2015 #2 by Missy Tippens, Jean C. Gordon, Patricia Johns Read Free Book Online Page B

love her home.
    He got Zeb on the phone. “Tell Mrs. Emerson not to worry. I want my customers happy.”
    â€œWill do.” Zeb snickered. “Baby is fussy, huh? Sounds like you’re a regular Mr. Mom.”
    Jake had seen the man with his grandkids. Zeb had a tough-as-nails exterior and a marshmallow-puff interior. “Yeah, you keep making fun. Next time I see you swinging beside one of your grandkids at the park, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
    â€œWell, Mr. Mom has a backbone after all.”
    Jake snorted a laugh. “The girl has been fussy. Temp is a little elevated.”
    â€œWhen in doubt, go to the doctor. Another excuse to get cozy with the cute new pediatrician who about chewed your rear off Saturday.”
    Wondering how many people had overheard
that
discussion made his face burn. “The doc is actually here checking her now. But I assure you, there’s no coziness where Violet Crenshaw is concerned.” A quick glance out the back door gave him a good excuse to avoid the topic. “In fact, I need to go check on them.”
    â€œYou do that, Jake.” Zeb was laughing as he disconnected.
    * * *
    Soft, jet-black hair that smelled like baby shampoo brushed against Violet’s cheek, melting her insides. Calm and relaxed, she was pleased her first appointment wasn’t until eight-thirty. She didn’t need to hurry home.
    And Abigail seemed to be relaxing, too. Was getting sleepy.
    Jake came out the back door. The sight of him in a T-shirt that molded to his work-toned muscles instantly shot her heart rate up, undoing any soothing from holding Abigail.
    â€œHow’s she doing?” he asked.
    â€œBetter.” She smiled at him, knowing he could use some encouragement.
    He held up the thermometer he’d brought with him, then took another reading. “Ninety-eight point seven.” His shoulders dropped. “That’s good. I feel stupid for worrying.”
    â€œDon’t apologize for erring on the side of caution. Little ones like this can get sick quickly.”
    â€œI was afraid I’d done something wrong bathing her last night. Was afraid she’d gotten chilled. She wasn’t a happy camper through that nightmare.”
    Violet bit back a smile. “Bathing will get easier.”
    â€œI hope. I think I took too long. She was okay at first, but then the water got cool. She started squalling, all stiff and furious. I bundled her up afterward, making sure she warmed up.”
    Violet’s chest squeezed. The image of this tall, brawny man doing something sweet like warming a chilled baby battered at her heart.
    He held out his arms for Abigail.
    Hating to give up the warm, sleeping bundle, she handed her over, willing a steel rod into her spine instead of the gelatin this man had put there. “You’re doing fine, Jake. Do you think the fussiness this morning seemed different from the crying she’s done at night?”
    â€œDefinitely. This morning’s fussiness hasn’t been as severe. At night, no matter what I do to comfort her, she continually shrieks—which, for the record, is horrendous.”
    â€œI can imagine.”
    â€œI walk the floor, rocking her, singing, cracking dumb jokes, doing everything but standing on my head. It’s as if I’m not even there.” He shrugged, his eyes troubled. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”
    Warning, warning! No melting of heart allowed.
    â€œToday, though, I could console her briefly. She didn’t all-out cry, just whimpered and whined.”
    â€œHmm. That does sound more like a baby feeling ill. There’s a chance she has a tummy ache or some gas. Are you remembering to burp her after her bottles?”
    â€œYes. But she has been drawing up her legs as if her stomach hurts. One of my subcontractors mentioned a change of formula curing his grandchild’s colic.”
    Violet would make a note of the