Chapter Six
All the grands had designated bedrooms at the ranch. Most were the same rooms they’d slept in as kids. Occasionally adults would be here at the same time and continue to share the room, but usually only a handful of Baron grandchildren were present at once. With so many marrying, a few bedrooms were redone into adult suites with queen or king size beds. In Cooper’s case, he was delegated not to his usual room but to the room next to the nursery.
Most of the night he found himself rolling over and glancing at the clock, listening to see if he heard from Emma. No surprise that when he rolled over at 7 a.m. at the sound of the little girl talking to herself, he felt like he’d barely crawled into bed. He also found it fascinating listening to her babble. She seemed to be having a very animated conversation, but he could not decipher a single word. Remembering that his grandmother had mentioned a camera, he logged in on his phone and could see her sitting in bed, her flamingo blankie in her lap and clearly the recipient of all her thoughts.
Staring at the ceiling a moment, he considered his schedule for the day. So much to do. He’d start with having Katrina cancel anything that wasn’t critical. Then he’d go to the hospital. Once he found out… a startling cry broke his train of thought. It actually took him a moment to register that it was Emma. Apparently, she’d grown tired of talking to herself. Grabbing his bathrobe, he shrugged into it and trotted across the room to the nursery. Easing the door open, he squinted to see inside.
It took a moment, but assisted by the light from his room, creeping into hers, he spotted Emma standing in the crib, her arms up in the air. That he understood. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the way she once again curled into his shoulder and rather than grab onto the fabric of his robe, her arms curled around him, she patted his arms.
Could she really be trying to comfort him? Did all toddlers do this? He’d figured out she was definitely a snuggler; then again, were all kids snugglers? Lord, he knew so little. How did real parents do it? There was little doubt in his mind that newborns did not come with manuals. Yes, every expert and his grandmother had written books, but it’s not the same as direct from the manufacturer instructions.
“What do you say we get you out of your pajamas and dressed for breakfast?”
“Yes,” her voice came out so low and sweet.
“Are you hungry?”
Her head lifted slightly, and her voice was stronger. “Yes.”
“Okay, then.” He was getting better at the diaper thing. The mini spatula like contraption that Gwyneth used for coating the baby’s bottom made spreading the white cream way less messy, and he’d figured out balancing the tape evenly so her diaper wasn’t so off kilter. Now that she was all dressed, all he had to figure out was how the heck was he supposed to shower and dress himself? Was it safe to leave her in the nursery alone? Was it okay to leave her in the bathroom with him? Good grief, if business decisions were this difficult, he’d be bankrupt. If ever there was a good reason to call in reinforcements, this was it.
Picking up the phone, he called the kitchen. Hazel answered and hiding her mirth as he spoke, agreed to come get Emma so he could dress. The hand-off was… interesting. Although, the little girl went easily to Hazel, Cooper was pretty sure she also gave him the stink eye for passing her off. Surely, he was imagining that, right? Shaking his head, he proceeded into the bathroom and must have broken a world record for showering and dressing and presenting himself for breakfast.
“She loves bacon.” Grams glanced at him a moment before returning her smiling gaze to the little girl. “Her eyes remind me of your father.”
He supposed that was better than saying they reminded her of him. “Green eyes are common.” He took the seat beside Emma. “First thing on my agenda today is to visit Teresa.”
“Always liked that girl.” The Governor’s gaze bore into him. “Smart and sweet. Reminds me of your grandmother.”
About to cut into his French toast, Cooper casually glanced at each of his grandparents. The way the two kept watching Emma and smiling, he wasn’t sure if they really didn’t believe him or simply didn’t want to. “Yes,” he couldn’t argue, “but we need to figure out what’s going on and then I have to check out what’s going on with the new hotel downtown.”
“That’s an ambitious day,” his grandmother shifted her attention to him.
“No more than any other day.” Even though visiting someone in the hospital wasn’t typical for him, a full day and then some was.
“Yes, but any other day you’re not toting a toddler around.”
His fork stopped midway to his mouth. “What?”
Grams waved at the baby. “She’s your responsibility.”
“Well, yes, I suppose. But I thought…” his gaze drifted to the kitchen door. They had plenty of staff to lend a helping hand with Emma. The odds were pretty good that at least half of them, including Hazel, knew more about little girls than he did.
“You might want to think again.” His grandfather stuck a finger out at Emma, and ducking his head, started making funny smiling faces.
Really? His grandfather, the former Marine and always tough guy, was making smiley faces at the toddler. His mind scrambling, he thought fast, suddenly extremely happy that Baron Enterprises had embraced on-site childcare for their employees a long time ago. Right about now, that should come in very handy. On the other hand, tongues would be wagging on the grapevine if he were the one to drop someone else’s daughter off in daycare. Heaving a deep sigh, he came short of physically shaking his head. Now what?
There was little doubt in Teresa’s mind that if she weren’t on pain meds, she’d be in a world of hurt. Even with the meds flowing directly into her veins, she could still feel the discomfort in her side every time she moved. Whether it was to scratch her nose, or call the nurse, or reach for a mug of water, every little effort tugged at her side and reminded her that she had survived a car accident and subsequent surgery.
“You’re looking better this morning.” The same nurse who had woken her up what felt like every few minutes most of the night had the nerve to stand there smiling at her.
“You too.”
The nurse chuckled. At least someone had a good sense of humor.
What Teresa needed wasn’t compliments, she needed to get some answers—and fast. Who knew where Emma was, what kind of care she was getting. “My daughter. I need to get out of here and take care of my daughter.”
“Your daughter is doing just fine,” a low deep voice came from the doorway.
Blinking at the nurse messing with her IV and who knew what else, Teresa would have shaken her head if movement didn’t make every muscle hurt. She had to be hearing things. None of the staff coming and going so far this morning had been a male.
“Wish I could say the same for you,” the same voice came closer.
Shifting just enough to turn her head in the direction of the voice, foggy memories of someone telling her that Emma was with Cooper Baron came rushing forward. Until this very moment, she thought for sure that had been one of the many strange dreams she’d had. Unfortunately, the car accident was definitely not a dream, and apparently neither was Cooper Baron.
“How are you feeling?” Familiar deep green eyes, eyes that had sucked her in and threatened to scramble her brains more than once, smiled at her.
“Like I wrestled an eighteen-wheeler. And lost.”
Cooper bobbed his head. “That’s pretty much what happened, except the truck was only one ton with four wheels.”
“Ugh,” she groaned.
“Don’t let her fool you.” The nurse stepped away from the equipment and smiled at Cooper, then turned to Teresa. “Shift change is coming up. The doctor has already been by. Not sure if he’ll be back later or not since you were sleeping, but everyone is very happy with your progress. Most people are not this alert.”
“Good. Then I can go home.”
The nurse shook her head. “Maybe in a few days. Usually after a surgery like yours, folks are in the hospital for at least a week, but if you keep this up, you’ll be out of here sooner than later.”
Sooner sounded good to her. “I need to get to my daughter.” She would have liked to throw off the covers, jump to her feet, and prove to everyone that she was just fine. There was only one problem with that plan—she was far from fine.
“The best thing you can do for Emma is to take care of yourself.” His expression an unreadable blank slate, Cooper now stood by her bed.
Oh how she hoped yesterday’s conversation with the nurse telling her that her daughter’s father, Cooper Baron, had taken Emma was just a foggy dream.
The nurse looked to Cooper. “You won’t want to stay very long. I’ve given her something to help her sleep. She needs her rest.”
Cooper nodded then waited for the nurse to leave and the room door to close behind her before he turned his attention back to Teresa.
“You know where she is?”
One eyebrow shot up and the single gesture told her loud and clear that the conversation she’d imagined had actually happened. “I do. We spent the night at the ranch. She’s a sweet kid.”
That made Teresa smile. “Is she asking for me?”
“Actually, no.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure if she should be happy that Emma was okay, or disappointed that she didn’t miss her. Obviously, happy was better, but still.
“She seems to just be taking everything in. Grams says that’s the sign of a smart child. Like mother, like daughter.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. “It’s just the truth. You were always very smart. Almost too smart. I won’t be surprised if Emma’s even smarter.”
“No.” She wished she could sit up more. “Thank you for taking care of her.”
“I knew you wouldn’t want her with Social Services.”
“Social Services?” Every muscle in her sore body tensed.
Very gently, Cooper patted her arm. “Relax. They were never called in. Apparently, this hospital seems to be under the misconception that she’s my daughter too.”
“Oops.”
“Oops?” His tone dropped. “That’s it? Oops?”
She needed to explain, but suddenly, her eyelids were so heavy and her tongue felt so thick. Opening her mouth had become a monumental effort. Forming words seemed impossible, but she had to explain. Maybe…to-mor-row.