The Baby Battle by Laura Marie Altom Read Free Book Online Page B

finally gave and the heavy wood door creaked open. The sun was nearly down, making the interior dark.
    She flicked the light switch by the door, illuminating a shabby chic, rustic space with a vaulted pine ceiling, soaring native stone fireplace and log-framed furniture softened with cozy burgundy and cream calico cushions. Wood floors were warmed by colorful rag rugs. On the walls were framed oil paintings of landscapes and fishing scenes. Mounted on the back of the cabin’s front door was a list of antiquated resort rules that included friendly reminders such as fish were not to be cleaned indoors and unmarried couples were not to be in the same cabin without a chaperone past dark.
    A smile playing about her lips, holding Flynn extra close, Olivia mused that the likelihood of her having a man in her cabin was about the same as her changing careers to become an astronaut.
    Flynn whimpered.
    “Bet you’re hungry, huh?” Her breasts ached—usually a telltale sign her son was ready for dinner.
    She tossed her purse to the butcher block counter, then took a seat in a rocker nestled alongside the stone fireplace. Unbuttoning her blouse, she opened her nursing bra’s flap, cradling Flynn against her, helping him latch on. The release of milk acted as a balm, relaxing her, reassuring her that by running she’d done the right thing. By the time she’d switched Flynn to her other breast and he’d eaten his fill, her eyelids were heavy.
    It had been a long drive. For the moment the two of them were safe. But what next? Was she really prepared to abandon her home, career and essentially her whole life?
    Yes.
    Bottom line, Flynn belonged to her. And as long as she had breath in her body, no stranger claiming to be his father or a random judge would take him away.
    A knock sounded on the cabin door.
    Assuming it was Eleanor with extra towels, Olivia fastened the flap on her bra and quickly buttoned her blouse.
    “Wake up, hon,” she said, tweaking the tip of Flynn’s nose. “We have company.”
    She chuckled at his sleepy expression. Setting him in the portable crib that their innkeeper had thoughtfully already made up in the bedroom, she went to greet their guest.
    “Coming!” she called when her visitor knocked again. It took a few seconds to zigzag her way around a coffee table and side chairs.
    Finally she reached the door and tugged it open.
    “Surprise,” Tag O’Malley said, a stony look on his face.
     
    “H- HOW —” As Tag had hoped, he’d caught his son’s mother off guard. Her hands were trembling over her mouth and her gaze darted wildly. Searching for a fresh route of escape? “Y-you have to leave. I—”
    “Save it,” he said, brushing past her. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, let alone any more of Olivia’s games. “Where’s our son?”
    “He’s mine,” she said, close on his heels. “Please, just go. How did you even find us? What are you? Some kind of deranged stalker?”
    There he was. His son. Asleep in his crib. Ignoring the infant’s mother, Tag froze, taking but a moment to drink in the sight of him. He was so perfect. Tiny. Sweeter than anything Tag had ever seen, with the exception of Maria’s wedding-day smile. On autopilot, he knelt, scooping the baby into his arms.
    A tremor shuddered through him. Raw emotion, stinging and hot, welled his eyes. Cradling his son to his chest, Tag felt his knees turn to rubber, sending him for safety’s sake to sit on the foot of the bed. Sensory overload had him cupping his cheek to the boy’s downy hair. In great, greedy gulps, Tag dragged in his son’s scent. Baby lotion and shampoo and powder. Flynn’s tiny velvety jumper smelled fresh and clean. Gently inserting his pinkie finger into the baby’s clenched fist, Tagwondered at the minuscule perfection. If only Maria could have been here to experience the same joy.
    “You’re amazing…” Tag whispered, his throat too tight to continue.
    “How did you find me?” Olivia