The Drifter by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page B

“I’ve got him,” she murmured.
    â€œRight.” He stepped back reluctantly, already missing the weight of his son cradled against his chest.
    â€œApparently you’ve held babies before,” she said, adjusting Bartholomew’s T-shirt over his round tummy.
    Chase was immensely pleased. “Some.”
    â€œI thought I heard him crying in the kitchen, but you seem to have calmed him down.”
    â€œHe’s probably hungry or needs a change.”
    â€œProbably.” Amusement lit her eyes. “You sound like the voice of experience. Did you have little brothers and sisters?”
    â€œUh, no.” He glanced away as sudden anger at his mother overtook him. He thought he’d forgiven her for dumping him into the world with no safety net, but apparently he hadn’t. “Ready to go?”
    â€œIn a minute. Let me put him in his seat.”
    â€œOh, yeah.” He watched her position Bartholomew in the plastic carrier. “Belinda says she has something called a cradleboard that I could strap on my back if we want to take that ride tomorrow.”
    â€œIs it safe?”
    â€œFreddy and Leigh’s father made it for them when they were kids, so I guess it is. The Indians used to carry babies that way.”
    Amanda lifted the carrier in her arms. “Bartholomew’s no papoose.”
    â€œHe’ll be okay. Babies are tougher than you think.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “If you’ve never had little brothers or sisters, how come you know so much about babies?”
    â€œI pay attention. Here, let me take him.” He relieved her of the infant seat before she had a chance to protest, and felt a rush of pleasure that he had his son back in his grasp. This father business was dangerously habit-forming.
    On the way back through the patio he spotted Dexter sitting in his usual corner with Chloe at his feet. “Let’s go pick up your bodyguard,” he suggested as he walked toward Dexter.
    Chloe lifted her head and thumped her tail against the concrete.
    â€œBaby,” announced Dexter with a grin.
    â€œYeah, and its time for him to turn in,” Chase said, crouching next to Dexter’s chair so the old man could get another look at Bartholomew. “Is it still okay if Chloe stays at the cottage tonight?”
    â€œIt’s okay.” Dexter tucked a bony knuckle under Bartholomew’s chin. “Smile, some?”
    Bartholomew responded with a gummy grin.
    Chase’s heart swelled. He could see what Leigh meant about losing her heart to that smile. “He’s sure taken a shine to you, Dex.”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œGuess we’d better get him tucked in, though.”
    â€œYep.” Dexter gave Bartholomew another chuck under the chin before Chase stood, lifting the infant seat.
    He grunted as pain squeezed his lower back.
    â€œChase?” Amanda’s forehead puckered with worry.
    Great, just what he needed, to wimp out now and show he couldn’t even carry his own kid around. “I’m fine,” he said.
    â€œIt’s your back, isn’t it? Let me—”
    â€œNo, I’m really fine. See you later, Dex.”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œAnd thanks for the loan of Chloe.” Chase whistled and the dog came instantly to his side.
    â€œAre you sure you’re okay?” Amanda asked as they crossed the patio in the pink light of sunset.
    â€œYes.” The spasm was easing a little, but he desperately needed to get into the pool and swim the laps he’d missed today. Leigh had said stress would make things worse, and as always, she was right.
    â€œWhy didn’t Dexter eat in the dining room tonight?” Amanda asked.
    â€œHe can’t take too much confusion. The stroke messed up the circuits in his brain, and he has to concentrate really hard to find the words he wants. He has something called aphasia. When a lot of people are talking, it’s an overload