Free A Texas Soldier's Family by CATHY GILLEN THACKER

satisfying about spending time with him, even when they were doing really mundane things like errands, or dishes or, best of all, baby care. “Do mothers just instinctively know things about their kids?” he continued.
    Hope sorted baby clothes and blankets into whites and pastel blues and dropped the latter into the tub. Eager to get the spit-up laundered out of all their garments, she added her own similarly hued shirts and pajamas. “Sort of. At least, I do.”
    She turned toward him. Inhaling his brisk masculine scent and the mint on his breath, it was all she could do not to think about kissing him again. “I read up a lot on infants and the ways they communicate before Max was born. For instance, when he’s hungry, he makes a meh sound. It’s supposed to be neh , but I think he’s combining that with Mommy, and it comes out meh .”
    Garrett grinned at her maternal bragging, as she meant him to.
    Proudly, Hope continued, “When Max is sleepy he yawns. And when he has air in the tummy he wants to get out, he makes an eh or earh sound.”
    Garrett rummaged around the cabinet until he produced a bottle of extra-gentle laundry detergent. “When he needs a diaper change?”
    The backs of their fingers brushed as he gave the detergent to her. Ignoring the resultant tingle, Hope concentrated on measuring the clear liquid into the cap, then pouring it into the dispenser. “He kicks his legs a lot and says huh repeatedly.”
    Garrett shifted, his big body exuding warmth in the small space. “Does he get mad at you?”
    “Sometimes.” Hope set the dials, switched on the washer, then left the room before being with him in the small space revved up her latent desire and them falling into each other’s arms again. “Like when we’re driving somewhere and I can’t stop until we get there. Although,” she added, continuing into the kitchen to help herself to one last glass of milk before bed, “if Max has to wait more than five minutes for me to be able to stop and get him out of his car seat, the motion of the vehicle usually lulls him to sleep.”
    Garrett surprised her by pouring himself a glass of milk, too. “So, even when you do have to drive a little longer than Max would like, it’s not so bad.” He stepped into the pantry, emerging with a bag of gourmet butter cookies.
    Hope accepted one. “For either of us.” Keeping her voice low, so as not to wake anyone, she stepped out onto the front porch of the bunkhouse. There, she could hear Max if he cried.
    The night was warm and breezy, the velvety black Texas sky was sprinkled with stars surrounding a brilliant yellow quarter moon.
    Leaning against a porch post, she looked over at Garrett, who seemed to be enjoying the late summer evening on the ranch as much as she was.
    His gaze roved the messy confines of the knot on the top of her head. “Have you heard from your nanny?”
    Aware she hadn’t done a very good job of putting her hair up in an elastic band before she’d nursed Max the last time, Hope set her glass on the rail. Determined to appear at least a little more professional, and less Mommy On Vacation, she reached up and shook her hair out, combing it with her fingers as best she could.
    “Mary Whiting? Yes. She emailed me this afternoon. Her mom’s heart surgery was successful,”
    Which was really great—for Mary and her family.
    “But it’s going to be at least a six-to eight-week recuperation. And Mary is going to stay with her family to help out.”
    Which was really bad—for her and Max.
    “Can you get another nanny?”
    “The agency is already sending me candidate profiles for an interim replacement.”
    He came near enough she could feel his body heat. “But...?”
    Ignoring the melting sensation in her tummy, Hope lifted a shoulder. “Mary’s going to be hard to replace, even temporarily. She was perfect with Max. He hasn’t bonded with anyone so readily except yo—uh...er...”
    Oh, darn, had she really almost said