Free Sweets to the Sweet by Jennifer Greene Page B

Distressed, Laura’s voice came out low, almost trembly. “I apologize, but at the time—”
    Carefully, he shifted the baby and stood up. “She’s my daughter, too, Laura.”
    “I’ve never denied that!”
    “But you’d like to.”
    “You probably have a long drive back, to wherever the hell you’re going,” Owen interrupted cheerfully.
    There was a moment of silence, not long. Owen stared at Peter; Peter stared at Owen and then rather abruptly handed the baby to Laura. As if sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Mari opened her eyes and let out an irritated yell.
    “What’s wrong with her?” Peter asked immediately.
    “Nothing,” Laura said swiftly. “She’s getting hungry, and she needs to be changed.” She darted an accusatory glance at Owen for jumping in. Lovingly cradling the baby to her shoulder, she said to Peter, “After that, she’ll sleep through the night. There’s no point in your staying.” The baby’s plaintive cries drowned out his answer, and when Peter moved to the front door, Laura turned toward the stairs to the left.
    When she was out of sight, the two men stood facing each other. The flare of anger in Peter’s eyes expressed the first honest emotion Owen had seen so far, and gave him a reason to respect the man.
    “I’m staying until I’ve had a word with her in private,” Peter said flatly.
    Owen shook his head. “Nope. You’re not.” His tone was still pleasant. “You had your word with her. And succeeded in making Laura feel bad—which is undoubtedly what you wanted to do.”
    “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know anything about Laura and me.”
    “You’re absolutely right. I know nothing about you, about why Laura moved, about why she wouldn’t see you in the hospital, about why she felt she had to drop old friends who were evidently important to her—but I do know about people who lay subtle guilt trips on others. You brought up every subject you knew would hurt her, didn’t you? Have a nice drive.”
    “I think you’ve misunderstood,” Peter said stiffly.
    “Sure I have.”
    A muscle in Peter’s jaw tightened, but just that abruptly, he backed off. Five seconds later, he left the house, slamming the screen door. Owen stood there, rubbing the back of his neck wearily, and then squinted up the steps to the loft.
    He expected Laura was furious with him.
    She certainly had reason to be. He’d interfered with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, and he wasn’t proud of himself. He’d had every intention of being civil to her ex-husband. It just hadn’t worked out that way.
    Laura was his. He hadn’t realized quite how much he cared until Peter tried to needle her. In other circumstances, maybe the guy was as gut-likable as he’d originally seemed—but a man didn’t lay a pile of emotional baggage on a vulnerable woman. Laura was far from her physical and emotional strongest, this soon after the birth. No one was going to hurt her. If that was a rather cavemanish attitude, Owen was guilty.
    He decided to give her a few minutes to cool down. Wandering toward the kitchen, he opened cupboards one after another. He wanted scotch, but it was one of those rare times he’d even settle for bourbon. As he expected, he found nothing.
     
    When the baby finished nursing, Laura rocked her until Mari nodded off to sleep. She hadn’t turned on a lamp. Pale moonlight flooded in the half-open window, spilling over the soft yellow carpeting, the gay pattern of yellow–and-white unicorns on the wall. Mari had both a regular crib and an infant cradle with a soft yellow canopy. It was a wonderful room, fit for a princess.
    Unfortunately, the princess was sound asleep, and didn’t need any more rocking. Laura would have liked an excuse to stay right where she was. Ten minutes before, she’d heard Owen’s footsteps on the loft stairs. He hadn’t looked in, but she knew he was waiting somewhere.
    She laid the baby in the cradle and waited a minute. If Mari wanted to