under him?” Ellen asked.
“You’ll manage.”
“Megan,” Ellen said through clenched teeth, “I swear if this kid pees on me, I’ll—” Suddenly she broke off with a loud cry as a stream of liquid shot up and landed first on her chin and then on her yellow silk blouse.
For a moment Ellen froze. Then she let out a loud cry of her own. “Yuk!”
“Uh-oh, looks like he had an accident.” Meg’s voice quivered with laughter. “I can’t believe the little fellow did that.”
“Yes, you can,” Ellen spat, fighting to get the diaper under Matt and the tabs in place. Once that was done, she whipped around to face her sister, only to stop and stare at the doorway.
A man with a wide grin splayed across his face filled the space. That grin turned lazy as his eyes toured her body. Ellen flushed, conscious of the ugly stain front and center on her blouse.
Flustered and unnerved by this stranger’s stare, which seemed to make fun of her ineptness, she snapped her eyes off him and back onto the still-squirming baby.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Ellen responded in a scoffing tone, thinking it unlikely that this rangy cowboy was any more adept at changing a diaper than she was. “Everything’s under control.”
“Are you sure about that?” he drawled
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ellen said coldly.
Megan stood and cleared her throat. “Uh, Ellen, this is Porter Wyman, Matthew’s daddy.”
Two
More mortified than she’d ever been in her life, Ellen stood transfixed and watched as Matthew’s daddy, six feet of muscle and brawn, tipped his hat, then sauntered toward them.
The instant Matthew saw his daddy, he squirmed, waved his arms and grinned from ear to ear.
“Whoa, little boy.” Ellen held on to him for dear life, fearing he was going to leap out of her arms.
“He’s a handful, I’ll admit,” Porter said, reaching to take him from Ellen.
Feeling splotches of color invade her cheeks, Ellen kept her face averted. She had no idea what this man was thinking, but she could guess. All the more reason not to be on the receiving end of those brown eyes that reminded her of dark chocolate.
“Hey, son, you and me need to have a talk,” Porter said in a gravelly voice that sounded as if he could easily have been a drinking man.
Ellen knew better. He was in too good shape physically, especially his midsection. Even though it was disguised under a cotton shirt, she bet it would resemble an old-time washboard. Realizing the direction her thoughts had taken, her color heightened.
“Yeah, son, when we get home, we’ve got to talk about manners.”
“I’ll have to say, he pulled a boner,” Meg chimed in, laughter threatening to bubble over.
“Shame on you.” Porter gave his son a playful tug on the chin before transferring his gaze to Megan.
“How ’bout introducing me to your friend my son just assaulted?”
Ellen forced herself to look at her sister, then at Porter. They were having a good laugh at her expense, and she wanted to turn up her nose at them. But she knew that would make the situation worse for her. She kept her features devoid of emotion. Yet she couldn’t help but bristle inside.
“Actually she’s my little sister,” Meg said with a devilish smile.
“Ah, I see. Well, does she have a name?”
“It’d be nice if y’all would stop talking about me as if I weren’t in the room.” Ellen heard the sharp primness in her tone, but she didn’t care. To hell with both of them.
“That she does,” Meg said, as if Ellen hadn’t spoken. “Porter, meet Ellen Saxton.”
Porter again tipped his Stetson, and his smile burgeoned, showing a row of perfect white teeth that added an extra dimension to his attractiveness. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Same here,” Ellen said, telling an outright lie.
“Sorry about the uh, accident,” Porter said, his gaze narrowing on her.
Again Ellen wondered what was going on behind those incredible eyes, then mentally kicked herself for caring. It wouldn’t bother her if she never saw him or his kid again. She just wished he would take Matthew and leave. Her patience with this entire episode was wearing thinner than a piece of rotten thread.
“That’s okay,” Ellen finally said. “It happens with babies.”
Porter’s gaze held steady. “So you know.”
“Not from experience.” Ellen’s response was stiff.
“Ah, that’s too bad.”
That’s your opinion, she wanted to lash back. But she didn’t; she curbed her tongue, not giving a damn what he said or thought.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Meg said with a chuckle. “My sister’s not the motherly type.”
Porter shifted his eyes back to Ellen. “Well, anyhow, tell the cleaners to send me the bill for your blouse.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ellen said. “It’s no big deal.”
“I insist,” Porter said, a hint of steel in his tone, though his pleasant demeanor didn’t change.
Ellen shrugged. “Fine.”
Porter looked at her for another long moment, then turned to Meg. “So how are things with you and your family?”
“I guess all right.”
An eyebrow quirked. “You don’t sound so sure.”
“Thanks for asking.”
“You bet,” Porter said.
Ellen noticed how cleverly her sister had sidestepped the question. She swallowed a sigh, wishing Meg would confide in her, unable to squelch the feeling that something was not quite right with Meg and her family.
“We’re outta here.”
Porter walked over and reached for Matthew’s diaper bag. “Much obliged for taking care of my kid.”
Later Ellen was sure it was just her imagination, but she could have sworn his eyes lingered on her a bit longer than necessary.
After he’d gone, silence filled the room, though not for long. The little girl’s parents came for her, but once they were gone and the sisters were finally by themselves, Meg laughed outright, pointing at the dark stain on Ellen’s blouse.
Ellen glared at her. “If you don’t put a lid on it, I just might strangle you.”
Meg laughed that much harder.
“Megan, I’m warning you!”
“All right, I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not, not in the least,” Ellen retorted, though she was having a hard time keeping a straight face herself.
“All I can say is, you got christened whether you wanted to or not.”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. And so, sister dear, I’m leaving.” Ellen’s tone was huffy as she made her way to the door, but not before grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. She’d begun to smell herself and feared she was about to be sick to her stomach.
“Hey, hold your