Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

shook her head. “I’m not hungry. We had snacks at coffee hour after church.”

He nodded, putting away the mayo and mustard. “How was church? I never got to ask you.”

“It was fine.”

“Were your parents there?”

“Yep,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.

“And . . . how are they?” he asked, exaggerating the word they, and eyeing her curiously because her answers were so brief.

“Fine,” she said, studying the drawing on his table. “You know, this really is amazing.”

“Thanks,” he said, coming up behind her.

“You should enter it in a contest.”

“Maybe,” he replied.

“You have his eyes,” she said, smiling. “And now I know where you and Chase got your good looks.”

“Dutch was better looking,” he said, smiling. “Anyway, how’d it go? You know, dropping off the fox. What did she say?”

“She said she was going to release it into the wild as soon as it was old enough.”

“Not around here, I hope.”

“Probably up in the Blue Ridge Mountains somewhere.”

“The farther away, the better,” he said, putting his arms around her.

Maeve reached up and put her hands on his arms as he softly kissed her neck.

“Mmm, you smell pretty good, too.”

She closed her eyes and felt him press against her, already aroused. “It doesn’t take much, does it?” she teased.

“Nope,” he murmured.

“Gage,” she began haltingly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Mmm, what is it?” he asked, sliding his hands over her hips.

Maeve swallowed, trying to remember the words she’d rehearsed as she’d driven home, and then she felt him slide his hands under her blouse and bra, lightly touching her breasts.

“Hmm, doesn’t take much, does it?” he teased.

“Nope,” she murmured, laughing and still trying to think of how to begin.

“I thought you had something to tell me,” he whispered, as he unzipped the front of her jeans.

“You’re making it hard,” she said.

“No, you’re making it hard,” he whispered in her ear.

“I mean hard to concentrate.”

“I can stop,” he offered, as he slid his hand inside her underwear.

“No, you can’t,” she teased.

And then, to prove he could, he started to withdraw his hand, but she put her hand on his and guided it back down.

“So you don’t want me to stop? Okay . . .” He pushed her jeans down and then unzipped his own and pressed against her bare skin.

She opened her eyes and noticed the picture looking up at them. “I don’t know if Dutch would approve of this,” she whispered.

Gage chuckled. “Yes, he would,” he said, turning the picture over. “He would absolutely approve,” he said softly. He pulled her toward the bedroom, and leaving his jeans and boxers in a heap on the floor, lay on the bed beside her. She turned to him and he brushed his lips across hers before kissing her deep and full, all the while teasing her body. Unable to hold on any longer, she pulled him on top of her and felt him press deeper, rhythmic and solemn and intimate and true, and she pulled him in as deep as she could.

Finally, breathless, he slipped to her side. “Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me?” he whispered, lightly brushing wisps of copper hair out of her turquoise-blue eyes.

“There was,” she said, realizing she’d lost all her resolve. “My parents invited us for dinner on Friday.”

“Oh, okay. I thought it was something more serious—you sounded kind of funny.”

“Nope,” she lied. “Just that. Ben and Macey and Harper are going, too.”

“Sounds fun,” Gage said. “We haven’t been over there in a while.”

“That’s what my mom said . . . and she said to be sure to bring Gus.”

“That reminds me . . . where is Gus?” But just as he said the words, they heard thumping and looked over to see the big yellow Lab with his chin on the quilt, wagging his whole hind end. “There you are,” Gage said, laughing. “Did you hear the news? You get to go, too!”

31

SUE HANDED A CLOTH GOWN TO MASON AND WAITED WHILE HE SLIPPED IT on. “Did you check in?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Disinfect?”

He nodded.

“No cold or sore throat?”

“Fit as a fiddle.”

She laughed. “Okay, so normally, if I’m not here, you just log in,” she said, and then waited as he signed the logbook. “Disinfect your hands again because the immune systems of these little guys are not up to snuff yet, so there’s no such thing as too clean.” Mason nodded, and she led him into the NICU where there were six cribs. “Some babies are more fragile than others, and as you learned in orientation, the more fragile, the more precautions you have to take, but these little guys—and one little gal—are pretty sturdy.”

She walked to the first crib, gently picked up a tiny bundle, and eyed Mason. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

“No,” he said, grinning impishly.

“Okay. Well, why don’t you sit in the rocking chair?”

Mason did as he was told, and Sue brought the blanket-wrapped bundle over to him. “The most important thing to remember when you’re holding a newborn is to support its head.” As she said this, she showed him how to cradle the baby’s tiny head in his palm, and then she gingerly placed the baby in his arms. “This is Logan.”

“Hey, there, Logan,” Mason whispered, and then he looked up at Sue. “He hardly weighs anything.”

Sue nodded. “You were that tiny once.”

Mason shook his head in disbelief and then pulled the blanket back to see Logan’s fingers. Immediately, the baby boy reached up and wrapped his tiny fingers around one of Mason’s. “Wow, Logan,” he whispered softly, “you have a strong grip for a little guy.”

Sue smiled, and then took out her phone, and Mason looked up as she tapped the screen. “You’ve come full circle, Mase,” she said, showing him the picture.

“Can you send it to me?’

“Absolutely.” She tapped her phone, sending the picture to him, and then slipped it back in her pocket. “You okay for a few minutes?”

He smiled and nodded.

“Okay, just hit this button if you need help. I’ll be right down the hall.”

“Okay,” he said, completely swept away by