Baby on Board
Baby On Board
by Dahlia Rose
Copyright © June 2012, Dahlia Rose
Cover art by Mina Carter © June 2012
ISBN: 978-1-936668-62-5
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel
are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to
reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Sugar and Spice Press
North Carolina, USA
Baby On Board Dahlia Rose
Chapter One
Major Rafe Steele of the United States Marine Corps slid behind the
wheel of his black Escalade with a sigh. For a moment he leaned his head
back against the leather headrest and closed his eyes. A big grin crossed
his face. It was the start of his four-week leave and it was long overdue.
He’d done two back-to-back nine month tours in Afghanistan and then a
three-month recon and capture mission in Somali. Leading his unit, they’d
managed to take down a terrorist cell and had also taken one of the leaders
alive so their mission was a success. Now with all the leave time he had
earned and not used, he had four weeks of rest and relaxation. He planned
to ride his motorcycle, probably head to Myrtle Beach and sit in the sand
and enjoy the cool breeze and waves lapping at his feet. Whatever it was,
he intended to be completely and utterly relaxed and enjoy every minute
of it. Rafe put the vehicle in drive and drove out of Quantico with a wave
to the guards on duty at the gate.
Memorial Day weekend meant one thing: party at his house courtesy
of his good friend Lieutenant Brody Gillis. His friend was high on life and
could basically find an excuse to have a party at a moment’s notice.
Usually the party ended up being at his house because he had a pool and,
to Brody, that was a prerequisite at any party. Rafe’s cell phone rang.
Thinking of the devil—it was Brody.
He slipped his wireless bluetooth earpiece in his ear and pressed the
button to answer. “Hey, guy, what’s going on?”
“Only the best party to end all parties,” Brody yelled and whooped.
Rafe winced. “Remember what we said about inside voices, Brody?”
Brody laughed. “I’ve got the beer coming on Sunday—two kegs—and
Giovanni’s is going to cater so some of the best Italian food ever will be
there. If the food is not to your liking, we’ve got part of the Swedish
volleyball team coming to the party.”
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Rafe laughed. “How the fuck did you manage that?”
“They were in town visiting our nation’s capital and I happened to be
in D.C. the same day they were.” Rafe could hear the smile in Brody’s
voice. “I gave them the special invite.”
“I’m sure,” Rafe said dryly.
“See ya Monday, buddy,” Brody said. “Oorah!”
“Oorah,” Rafe replied and pressed the disconnect button on his phone.
Leave it to Brody to find the Swedish volleyball team
, he thought with
a grin. Rafe lived in one of the more expensive subdivisions that had
sprung up in the area around Quantico. He joined the Marines when he
was eighteen even though his family had a few million dollars. His father
was a retired senator who fished constantly since leaving Capitol Hill and
his mother came from old southern money. Yet they were two of the most
down-to-earth people anyone could meet. The trust fund that he came into
when he turned twenty-five bought his house and car and the rest gained
interest in the bank. Rafe preferred to live off his military pay. By
Saturday, his house would be crawling with women in bikinis and his pool
would be full of drunk soldiers.
Rafe gave another long sigh. He actually just wanted time alone in
front of his TV doing nothing and napping. But, unfortunately, the party
was already planned. Just another reason for his neighbors to think he was
some kind of party animal. He saw the looks on their faces sometimes but
shrugged it off. It wasn’t any of their business anyway. Ten minutes later,
he was turning into his neighborhood. His house was at the end of the cul-
de-sac—a four-bedroom, three-bathroom red brick home. It was one of
the largest on the block. He frowned as he pulled in the driveway. There
was something sitting by his front door.
“Is that a car seat? Is that a fucking car seat?” he mumbled to himself.
Rafe parked and quickly hopped out of the Escalade. He jogged up to
the front door and hell if it wasn’t a baby sleeping on his doorstep. He
looked around, hoping that this was some kind of practical joke. He saw
no one. It was after seven p.m. and everyone was inside. Anger surged
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through him. Who leaves a kid outside like this? He tore off the note that
was taped to the handle and read the words printed on the paper.
This is Bonnie. She’s your daughter. Take care of her. I can’t
anymore.
What the fuck? My daughter?
Rafe looked down at the sleeping baby.
Next to the car seat was a baby bag. He picked it up to search through it.
There were three cans of baby formula, a few diapers, and some
paperwork. The baby moved and made a sound as she opened her eyes.
Her gaze met and held his. It seemed like they stared at each other for
minutes until her little face scrunched up and a loud wail came from the
tiny being.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. What do I do?” Rafe looked around, panicked, as
the screaming got louder. He saw the little white car in the driveway of his
neighbor’s house. He’d seen her before. She dressed in nurse scrubs.
They’d never really spoken but for a few “good mornings” if he happened
to pass her on his way out for a run. A nurse would know what to do.
Without a second thought, he put the bag strap over his shoulder and
picked up the car seat. Rafe jogged several steps to her door and pressed
the doorbell one too many times. The baby’s wails were increasing, and
when he looked down, her face had turned a bright shade of red.
Oh, no,
not good!
He pressed the doorbell harder and then pounded on the door.
“Who’s out there trying to break my door down?” a female voice
yelled.
“Major Rafe Steele, ma’am,” he called. “Um…your neighbor. I’m the
house at the end of the street.” She opened the door and he held out the
baby carrier. “Fix it, please!”
She looked up at him. “Fix what?”
“The crying! The baby is crying. I don’t know what to do,” he said
hastily. “You’re a nurse. You can do something, right?”
“Because I’m a nurse you think I can automatically stop a child from
crying? Whose baby is it?” she asked.
“Apparently mine. I came home and found her on my doorstep with a
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note.” Rafe took a breath. “I have no clue about babies. Please, please
help me fix it so it stops crying.”
She stared at him and sighed. “Fine. Come in. Let’s see what’s going
on.”
She took the car seat from him and he trailed in behind her. She put
the car seat down on the sofa and began to unclip the baby from its
confines before lifting the baby into her arms. The crying immediately
quieted down to low whimpers as his neighbor crooned and softly patted
the baby’s back.
“What’s the matter with it?” he asked.
She gave him a cool stare. “First, stop calling her it. She’s probably
hungry and wet. Look in the bag and see if there’s a bottle and a diaper.”
“Okay,” he said and swallowed the lump in his throat. “The note said
her name was Bonnie.”
“What’s the matter, Bonnie? Are you hungry?” she said gently.
“Ma’am, there’s a bottle in here and it’s still warm.” Rafe held it out
to her along with a diaper.
“Second thing, my name is Ivy St. Clair, not ma’am,” she snapped.
“You’ve been living forty-six steps away from me and haven’t seen my
name on my mailbox?”
“Ma’am… I mean Ivy, I’m hardly here,” he said. “Tours of duty back
to back to back.”
He watched as she changed the baby’s diaper quickly and then popped
the bottle in the baby’s mouth as she held her in the crook of her arm. He
watched the little girl suck hungrily at the nipple. Jesus, what if he had
come home later? The child would have been outside alone all that time.
Another round of anger flooded him. What kind of mother would do this
to her baby?
“Are you going to search the bag and see if you can find any
information?” Ivy asked. “Bonnie is well nourished and she has obviously
been taken care of. I guess her mother got tired of doing it alone.”
He caught the underhanded meaning to her words and gritted his teeth.
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“Do you think if I knew I had a kid out there I wouldn’t have taken care of
her and her mother?”
She gave him a bold look. “How do I know? All I know about you,
Major, is that every time you’re home there are cars parked up and down
the street blocking people in their own driveway, loud music is blasting
and a bunch of scantily clad women are running through the neighborhood
giggling obnoxiously like airheads.”
“My friend throws those parties,” he snapped.
“And you’re sure reaping the reward, aren’t you?” Ivy replied. “Have
a seat and check the bag, Major.”
“You keep calling me by my rank. Most civilians don’t do that,” he
commented as he sat on her burgundy sofa. He looked around and saw
that the rest of the room was decorated in burgundy and blended with
hunter green and beiges. It was cozy and welcoming.
“I work at Walter Reed. I deal with you guys all day, everyday,” Ivy
explained.
Bonnie finished the bottle and Ivy turned her over and rested her
against her shoulder and patted the baby’s back. The baby burped loudly
and they both grinned. He met her gaze and something sparked between
them. He knew she felt it too because she looked away quickly.
“Okay, I found her birth certificate. Her name is Bonnie Jaclyn Steele.
She gave the baby my last name,” he said. “She’s six months old.”
“What’s the mother’s name?” Ivy asked.
“Juno Corwin. I don’t know that name and can’t fix it to a person in
my memory,” Rafe said truthfully.
“I’m sure you can’t,” Ivy said dryly. “I don’t suppose you keep a file
on your conquests—notches on the bedpost must suffice.”
“I don’t have notches…” Rafe shook his head. “Never mind. Here’s
Bonnie’s immunization record and a list of things she can and cannot
have.”
Ivy took the papers and scanned them. “She’s up to date, has an
allergy to amoxicillin, and strawberries give her a rash. All in all, she
