Page 3 of The Cowboy and the Baby

“Thank you. I don’t even know where I’m sitting. Oh . . . I’m at the window. Aisle twenty-one.”

“Seat D?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s pretty easy. I’m right next to you—seat 21C.”

Her eyes lit up in a brief smile as she slid into the airplane. The empty seats kept it quiet and calm as I followed her to the middle. Once there, she hesitated, teeth blanching her bottom lip.

“Need something?”

“Um, yes. She’ll need some warm water to mix her formula in her bottle before we take off.”

I reached into the bag, pulled out an empty one.

“This one?”

“Yes.”

“How much formula?”

“Oh! Great question. Um . . . one scoop. Two ounces of warm water, but not too hot?”

“On it.”

Disbelief dominated her expression as I dug the formula out and spun to find a flight attendant. This woman needed to find better friends, or a husband who didn’t let her travel alone with a baby so young she might have been a newborn. The distraction was a welcome break, anyway.

Florida gave me too much to think about.

When I returned with the bottle and warm water in hand, she granted me an even more brilliant smile. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this helps. I didn’t expect anyone to be willing to endure . . . anyway . . .”

After I settled next to her, I peeked at the baby’s dark eyes, staring up toward the light. A beautiful face amidst the tunnel of blankets.

“Well,” I said quietly, “that’s just about the cutest baby I have ever seen.”

Her expression softened.

“I agree.”

“What’s her name?”

“Lily.”

“Hello, Lily.”

The baby yawned, and I chuckled, turning my focus to my vibrating phone. A text from my sister, Cora, confirming my return tonight.

Cora: There are only two flights coming into town tonight, and one of them is yours. The other is coming in from Salt Lake, and it’s an hour before yours. Looks on time, though. Did you make it through airport security without exploding?

Cade: Somehow, I managed to keep it together.

After I shot off the reply, I stared at her message. Only two flights? That wasn’t surprising. The airport at Jackson City was a hub for tourists, bringing flights from a lot of major cities, particularly during ski season in the winter, which was just ramping up.

But only two?

I checked my text message list again. Three messages down was the confirmation from Noelle, the woman I’d pick up at the airport around the time I landed. I glanced over the sea of heads, skimming over people drifting onto the plane. It wasn’t a very big plane, but enough to justify the flight.

What were the odds that Morgan’s granddaughter Noelle was on this plane?