you sit down again and—”
“There’s just this,” she said, pointing to the white plastic trash bag beside the door. “That’s everything.”
“Okay.” He reached in and grabbed it, taking it to the rear of the SUV and depositing it there. Then he opened the door behind the driver’s seat—apparently that’s where the car seat was—and leaving the door open, he returned to her.
“The guy who set up the car seat talked me through where the belts and straps go. If I just get her into it I think I have that part straight. How hurt is she?”
“The doctors and nurses said she isn’t injured at all. I’ve been worried about it, but I haven’t seen any sign that it hurts her to pick her up or hold her or change her diaper or anything. I...” This was going to sound crazy. “I actually rolled her in bubble wrap to get out of the fire and I guess it helped. The hospital was mostly worried about her lungs—from the smoke. But as of yesterday her lungs got a clean bill of health, too. And the way she’s been exercising them, I’d have to say that they’re fine.”
“Bubble wrap?” he repeated, almost cracking a smile.
Stuck on the crazy part. That figured.
“I had it to wrap a pitcher I was going to take home to Darla, so it was right there and...I just rolled Immy in it—everything but her face—in case I dropped her or something, then I wrapped another blanket around the bubble wrap and out we went...”
“Fast thinking,” he said as if that was something he approved of.
“That happens when the place is on fire and the roof is caving in,” she said, deflecting his approval.
He nodded. “So it won’t hurt her to pick her up?”
“It doesn’t seem to, no.”
“And...like I said, I don’t have any experience with babies... Do I just scoop her up?” he asked, demonstrating by holding out both of his hands, palms up, and thrusting them forward.
“She’s not hurt, but she’s kind of delicate just because she’s only eight weeks old,” Kyla warned, alarmed by the force in his demonstration. “You have to be careful with her—one hand under her head, neck and shoulders to support them, the other under her rear end.”
“Got it.”
Kyla felt less confident than he sounded, but she made way for him to come into the room and followed him to the crib, mentally willing the infant to stay asleep. And Beau not to drop her.
She kept an eagle eye on him, but unlike his bravado at the door, he was infinitely cautious when he actually reached for Immy. In fact, he went at a snail’s pace, easing his big hands under her and raising her from the mattress as if she were a bomb that might go off at the slightest jarring.
Which actually wasn’t far from the truth, in Kyla’s experience.
But this time Immy didn’t so much as whimper even as Beau straightened up and pulled her close to—though not completely against—his flat belly.
It was awkward and not pretty, but from the sight of his bulging biceps and forearms it was a weight he could bear without bracing her against him, so Kyla didn’t say anything.
He gave Kyla an almost imperceptible shrug and nod that said he guessed he’d pulled it off, and took the baby out to the car, with Kyla again following close behind.
Immy went on sleeping like an angel as he laid her very gently in the car seat that had a soft, fleecy head support at the ready. Then he strapped the infant in and closed the door firmly but without slamming it.
“Okay,” he said, as if the first of many steps had been accomplished. “Now you.”
“I can take care of myself,” she assured him curtly, returning to the motel room to close the door.
Still, Beau was waiting, standing sentry-straight with the passenger door open for her when she turned back to the SUV.
“It’s a pretty high step up—you should let me help you,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
There was no way Kyla was accepting it.
“I’m fine,” she said, gritting her teeth to hide the pain it caused her to get into that seat on her own and hating that she was less than graceful doing it. But she still made it and managed the seat belt with her left hand only.
Beau’s expression was completely blank when she caught sight of his face, so she had no idea what he thought of her stubbornness or her lack of agility—or if he’d even registered any of it. But once she was belted in he closed her door the same way he had Immy’s.
Who remained asleep through Beau getting into the car, too, and starting the engine.
Kyla had already called the front desk to let them know she was leaving, so there was no need for anything but to get on the road.
As Beau merged onto the highway, Kyla took note of too much about him. More even than how great-looking he was. The SUV was big and yet she couldn’t see him in anything smaller. Not only had he bulked up considerably, but he exuded so much power and presence that it just seemed to take a large space to accommodate it. He was like a brick wall of man—a force to be reckoned with. Quite a change from when they were teenagers.
He also smelled fabulous—a clean, citrusy scent that gave him an added appeal to go with how mind-blowingly handsome he was now. Altogether it made for a heady mix that was getting to her. A little.
Until she reminded herself that fourteen years ago he’d lied about what had happened between them and denied it all.
Until she reminded herself that he’d portrayed her as some kind of slut.
And abandoned her.
That steeled her against his current appeal.
“How did all this happen?” Beau asked then, nodding at her braced wrist.
Small talk. Okay.
Kyla explained how and why she’d come to Denver, the housing situation on her cousin’s property, and how she’d come to have Immy with her that night.
Then she said, “The fire department thinks it was an electrical fire that started on the second floor, where Rachel and Eddie’s bedroom was. I was asleep in the guesthouse. There was no smoke alarm—I’m not sure what woke me up, but whatever did, it was already too late for me to do anything but get us out. I could see the main house through one window and it was... Mostly I could just see huge, bright flames. And the guesthouse was on fire, too—there were flames right outside the bedroom door, and I guess the roof out there fell in, because there was a huge crash. I just kept thinking that no one would know we were back there in the guesthouse, to come and help, and I had to get us out.”
The terror of that memory flooded Kyla.
“I slammed the bedroom door to keep the flames out—I was just hoping that if the fire had to burn through the door it would give me a few more minutes. Luckily Immy was in a portable crib in my room—if she’d been anywhere else I wouldn’t have been able to get to her. But the only way out was the window in the bathroom that faced the back. We were above the garage and...” Kyla swallowed hard and shrugged. “I didn’t really know what to do. I thought about throwing Immy out first, but I was afraid to do that. Like I said before, the bubble wrap was right there, so I rolled her in it, wrapped a blanket around that, and—”
“Jumped out the window?”
“It was really more like we fell out the window—I kind of got us up to sit in it. It was a straight drop from there. I tried to hold Immy to one side and twist so I’d fall on my back and maybe be the cushion for her. But I ended up falling on my other side—Immy was on my left and I fell on the right—and I guess maybe I tried to brace us or catch us or something with my hand out.” She shook her head. “I don’t know for sure—that part is a blur—but