Chapter 2
NOELLE
Broad, gentlemanly, and unfortunately handsome.
Cade Callahan.
A cowboy I knew by name, but nothing else.
He retrieved the bottle that I dropped, which bought me a moment to grapple with pure disbelief.
How could our first meeting happen like this?
Luck often had weird bumps, but this tall drink of water was a rather large bump.
Grandpa’s foreman being a hunky man wasn’t something on my bingo card for the year, but neither was losing my twin sister to death after delivering my niece, whom I promptly gained full care over.
The moment Cade said his name, I felt in my gut that something deeper than comprehension just happened.
When I told him my name, he’d lost almost all pallor and hadn’t regained it.
He licked his lips, shook his head a little, and ran a hand through his hair.
A nervous chuckle escaped him, but he hadn’t met my eyes yet.
“Cade,” I repeated dumbly.
“Nice to, uh, meet you. Even in this most unexpected fashion.”
He cleared his throat.
The question how is this real? spiraled through my exhausted mind, but I asked that question so much these days, it hardly seemed shocking anymore. Cade mirrored my befuddlement, which felt marginally better. At least I wasn’t the only one who struggled to figure out the designs of fate.
A full twenty seconds passed while I grappled with the fact that Cade Callahan sat next to me. That he—out of everyone in the Chicago airport—helped me when I was desperate for aid, and now we shared a two-person row.
Wild didn’t give this situation justice.
While the flight attendants strolled past and the engines rumbled to life, I reached for Lily’s bottle again, grateful to have something to do. Fiddling with her bottle cap gave me another second to maneuver through these unexpected turns.
Cade.
Grandpa’s foreman.
No wonder picking me up wasn’t an inconvenience. He was already going to be at the airport from his own flight. I almost let loose a nervous, barky laugh. The one I released when I didn’t know what to say or do.
Oh, no.
Oh, dear.
I had hoped to show up at the ranch, settle inside, and figure out how long I could live there before the bills caught up with me and forced me to find a different solution.
Most of my savings would fund the attorney fees for finalizing Lily’s temporary guardianship, and then court adoption, on top of diapers, formula, doctor visits. Oh, and food.
At some point, I should eat.
Tangential.
Tears rose again, but I blinked them back. How was I this emotional, but I wasn’t the one who delivered a baby? Could I sympathy-cry for my dead sister? The plane swung around, taxiing toward a distant runway.
Focus, I told myself. Focus, Noelle. You can get through this hurdle. It’s just a plane ascent. It’ll even out, and Lily won’t flip her lid again.
Since taking Lily home from the hospital, I sometimes coached myself.
It helped to address myself like a third person.
Someone I could chastise and alternately encourage as “she” struggled for survival.
Helped me step outside of the situation and guide, instead of experience.
Because some experiences were too painful to sit with right away.
The definition of too much had expanded exponentially for me in the last month. Cade almost fit that definition, as well. Too much cowboy. Too much generosity. Too much to look at, with his five o’clock shadow, eyelashes for days, and short-cropped hair just long enough to run his fingers through.
Grandpa’s adorable, handsome, and gentlemanly foreman would not only help me on the plane, but to the ranch.
And then what?
Where would Cade go after I inherited Iron Creek Ranch?
I wouldn’t inherit it, of course. Uncle Bart would.
He and Marsha had stayed in touch with Grandpa all these years.
They didn’t visit often, but enough to maintain ties.
My father had cut himself off from his family decades ago, so he wouldn’t get diddly squat. And I didn’t blame Grandpa for that.
Grandpa loved Naomi and me, though. He sent cards all the time.
Cade cleared his throat before asking, “What can I do to help you on the flight, Noelle? It seems we’ve been thrown together a little bit early.”
My eyes closed in a moment of sheer disbelief. Good grief. Did Cade have to be perfect? Why didn’t Grandpa hire someone mean and ugly?
An elephant sat between us.
A big one.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Lily over text messages,” I burst out. “I should have let you know that I’d be bringing a baby with me. I realize that. I just . . . you wouldn’t believe how wild the last month has been.”
Cade became very still.
I waved a hand in the air and said, “There’s a whole story, and I haven’t had a moment to think about it because—”
“Not a big deal, Noelle. You can bring whoever you want.”
His light shrug confirmed his easygoing words, though the surprise hadn’t bled from his eyes yet. I’d never met Cade; only heard stories about his natural talent with the animals from Aunt Marsha. She crooned over him often, and now I could appreciate why.
The only competition Bart has for the ranch is Cade, Marsha said a few days ago, but I’m sure Morgan wouldn’t have left the ranch to someone outside the family.
Fly to Wyoming with Lily, talk to the lawyer, and once he confirms that Morgan left it to Bart, you can have full run of the place.
We don’t really have plans for it. If Cade wants to keep running it, we’d be fine with that, as long as there’s money in the ranch to employ him.
Full run.
That felt good.
Really good.
Now, I had to wrench the ranch free from Cade’s capable hands, which was an awful thing to do after he’d been so kind to me and Lily. Yet, I would still take everything from him.
Because Lily trumped all.
Panic slipped through me when the plane charged down the runway.
I’d been so wrapped up in Cade’s kind eyes and the unbelievable reality of us being thrown together in this way that I’d forgotten to pay attention to Lily.
All the articles I read online warned me to have Lily drink her bottle or suck on her pacifier when the elevation changed, to avoid her screaming her head off from an earache.
My ready anxiety tripled.
Calm down, Noelle. It’s just a bottle.
The last thing I wanted to deal with was a wild, disgruntled newborn while locked on a multi-hour plane ride. Once upon a time, I hadn’t been so tightly wound. I didn’t fear plane lift off, or crowds, or question when my last full meal was. Anxiety didn’t used to be my closest comrade.
But then, I hadn’t realized just how forgiving, easy, and controlled my life had been.
I fumbled for Lily’s bottle, grateful it was still warm. I knocked the cap off, accidentally squirted Lily in the eye, and sucked in an irritated breath through my nose. Lily cried out as Cade fished around for the lid on the floor while the airplane’s front wheels rose.
Positioning Lily higher in my arms, I brought the nipple to her mouth just as inertia slammed my spine into the seat. Thankfully, Lily took the nipple and began to eat. While she happily slurped away, I tilted my head back, breathed out, “Thank God for tiny miracles,” and closed my eyes.
One hurdle down.
Five thousand more to go.
When the plane evened out and the engines calmed, Lily fell asleep. The bottle rolled off her droopy bottom lip, and milk dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
I removed the nipple, then searched for somewhere to put it without stirring her awake. Maybe I could hold it between my knees until I could lean forward enough? She’d only eaten half, and might be persuaded into a longer nap by finishing the rest later.
Cade put out a hand with the bottle cap in his palm. “Here you go. I’ll tuck the bottle in the pocket, if you like.”
Relieved again for another solution, I handed it over.
“Thanks.”
He replaced the lid and slipped the bottle into the seat back ahead of me. Tightening the blanket around Lily, and moving very slowly, I lifted her to my shoulder, positioned her head to the side, and patted gently along her spine.
Noelle, you’ve got this. You kept her alive for four weeks straight now. This is fine. She’s alive, so are you. One minute at a time. One hurdle after another.
The mantra soothed me, and so did narrowing my focus off of the future and onto this minute. Sometimes, I could only focus on the individual seconds, not even minutes, ahead. Otherwise, it all became too overwhelming.
Lily squirmed, gave a delicate burp, and settled again into a sleepy slump. Appeased, I moved from patting to rubbing. Whenever Lily burped, everything else fell into place.
Next hurdle?
Complete.
“Do you have children, Cade?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh! Do you have one on the way?”
He laughed. “No, not at all. There’s no lady of the ranch, or anything like that.”
Lady of the ranch. Huh. I tucked that interesting tidbit away and leaned my cheek against Lily’s downy hair.
Her soft skin and tender, tiny shape captured me.
Sometimes, I couldn’t comprehend just how little babies could be.
Their fragile fingers, tensile strength.
Everything about Lily was a miracle, and having a miracle in my responsibility was weird.
“Do you live in Chicago?” he asked.
“Yes. Well . . . no. Not anymore.”
Cade lifted an eyebrow.
My stomach plummeted at the thought of voicing aloud the dumpster fire that I left behind. “Did you grow up in Wyoming?” I asked in lieu of explanation.
“Yep. Various parts. Been ranching all my life.”
“What took you to Chicago?”
“Chicago was a layover from Florida.”
“Seeking sunshine?”
My witty quip only earned half a smile. “Something like that.” His eyes skated away. Whatever he did in Florida, it didn’t have happy vibes. While drink carts rattled by, Cade set a hand on his knee and asked, “How old is Lily?”
“Four weeks today.”
“She’s brand new.”
I ran my fingertips along the back of Lily’s warm, pliant neck. “Yes. She’s a tiny thing. How is the ranch? Marsha said it needs some work.”
He nodded. “Definitely needs that.”
“Is it warm inside?”
“Mostly.”
“Is it isolated?”
“A bit.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
He didn’t question my resolution, which earned several more trust points. If we had to be thrown together, not having to answer questions would be helpful.
Flawed or not, the ranch would still be ideal for my situation. Lily and I could hide in the mountains and let the drama unfolding in Chicago dissipate. Once I had the official adoption papers in my hands, I’d emerge.
“Almost everything needs a little updating,” Cade added, “but the house is functional. Some places more than others. The kitchen is fine. Well . . . everything is fine, but it’s . . . I don’t know. Seems like one of those houses that, when everything starts to break, it all breaks.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Only if you’re afraid of hard work.”
Afraid wouldn’t be the right term. With my arms full of a baby and certainty a thousand miles behind me, overwhelmed fit better. If the ranch had that much disrepair, I’d call Marsha. She loved coordinating and spending money, and Bart would help me figure out upgrades.
“You’re staying at the ranch, right?” Cade inquired with a level steadiness that had to be hiding something.
“Yes. If that works for you?”
“Of course.”
“Is there room?”
“There are lots of rooms.”
His vague reply left something unstated.
Of course rooms existed—I spent several summers there before Grandma died—but that wasn’t what I meant.
The humming engine and dimmed lights made it hard to think about how to rephrase the same question.
I stole sleep whenever I could find it, and there hadn’t been much to find the last four weeks.
My eyes drooped as I leaned against the headrest, Lily tight in my arms.
“I know you just met me,” Cade said quietly, “but if you want me to hold Lily while you get some rest, just let me know. I imagine there isn’t much sleep for any mother out there, particularly with a newborn.”
I hid a wince at the word mother.
Yes, I firmly scolded myself. You are Lily’s mother, Noelle, not her aunt. And that is how it will always stay. No matter who comes knocking.
With a smile and a suppressed yawn I said, “Thanks, Cade. I’m okay sleeping with her now, but I’ll let you know if I want to take you up on it.”