Page 61 of Waiting in Wyoming
They’d slept together, Dylan could almost bet on that. It gave her a wicked little thrill to know her cousin was taking that next step with a good man like Mr. Brandt Barratt.
Meyra deserved an awesome man like that.
Dylan snuggled little Katie closer.
The baby just cooed. Dylan was in love, seriously in love, here.
“No baby hogging, though. We all get a turn,” Dixie told her. She peered at the baby’s face. “She does look much better. Poor little thing had hives from the previous formula. I think it was probably a soy-allergy thing.”
Dylan looked at Meyra and Sage. “We have met before. He’s a single father. Lives in Texas and drives a semi back and forth. He’s doing it all alone. The baby’s mother passed away when she was born. A heart attack, I think he said. She was only like twenty. Weird.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sage’s eyes narrowed. “He’s from Finley Creek?”
“Yes. That’s what his license said,” Dylan told her.
“And he drives a semi? How…interesting.”
Dylan wasn’t sure what Sage was getting at. Masterson was one of the main routes to Vancouver for drivers from Texas and Mexico. There was a small interstate that passed just south of town that connected to Interstate 15 in Idaho. They didn’t get many semi drivers at the inn—the inn could be a bit pricey—but the diner got lots of truckers just passing through.
Sage said something else, but Dylan missed it. The baby was fussing in her sleep. Dylan rocked her gently and fell even more in love.
“He’s trying really hard,” Dylan told Sage. “I got the feeling he’s a little scared and overwhelmed by the whole new dad thing, though.”
“Me, too.” Dixie brushed one hand over the baby’s little head. Baby eyes slowly blinked open. “But this one will be okay. Her daddy loves her, and that’s what matters most. I’ll call the IGA. Let them know not to call the cops about the overnight.”
That was one thing about her family that Dylan definitely loved. They pitched in when someone needed help. No denying that. If she had to find a great big family out of nowhere, at least it was a really, really good one, right?
“Okay, long enough,” Sage said, making “give-me” hands. “Share the baby cuddles, Dyl. Share them.”
Dylan didn’t want to let her go, but she understood the look in Sage’s eyes, after all. Someday—four of her own. Someday.
Maybe even six.
51
Brandt foundthe woman of his dreams standing in front of the check in desk, talking with her family and Sage Tyler after he finished filling Clint in on his family. He and Clint—and Clint’s wife Maggie—were good friends now. Maggie was a close friend of Meyra’s family, too. And Powell. Powell and Maggie were very close.
Meyra and two of her cousins and Sage were passing a very young baby back and forth between them and cooing. Meyra held her now.
Brandt just stopped and stared. This, this was exactly what he wanted.
Fast.
Yes, he was done waiting.
“Who is this?” Brandt asked. He looked at the baby for a moment. She could be a Tyler—there were a lot of Tylers having babies lately, and they often found themselves at the inn. Considering that some of those babies were Meyra’s stepmother’s grandchildren, the baby could definitely be a Tyler.
“She’s the daughter of our most recent guest,” Dylan said. It was obvious she wanted to hold the baby next. “Katie, from Finley Creek—meet Brandt Barratt from Finley Creek, too.”
“Really?” That was a bit more than a coincidence, wasn’t it?
“Her father is a trucker, on his way through,” Sage said, a tone in her words that had Brandt looking at her closely. “He had a breakdown at the IGA. He’s grabbing gear from the truck now, and didn’t want to take the baby out in the cold.”
Meyra was looking down at the baby with the sweetest, softest smile on her lips.
Brandt could barely look away.
“I’m getting a niece or a nephew around mid-September,” Brandt told Dixie and Sage when they asked how his sister was doing. They had met Powell before, several times. “She and Gunnar are thrilled, of course. And focusing on that rather than what happened. Going forward.”