Mia smiled, tranquil as his lake at sunrise. Nothing stirred. No hesitations. Only a calm, peaceful serenity. It was a small miracle. He’d have to start all over if she freaked out on him.

“Are you hungry, Colby?”

“Starved.” In more ways than one, but that wasn’t important.

“Me, too. Let’s go.” Still carrying the baby on her hip, she laced her hand in his, and pulled him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

It didn’t go unnoticed by his mother that Mia walked in with the baby on her hip. Her stomach swirled at the woman’s barely raised eyebrows and dawning realization of her and Colby’s questionable circumstances. His mother didn’t say anything to her or, as far as Mia could tell, to Colby.

Plates heaped high with food sat on the table. The spread should have been displayed on a cooking show. Picture perfect, and she was much hungrier than she realized. Famished, really.

The bottle warmer buzzed on the counter. Judith grabbed it, tested the bottle on the inside of her wrist while eyeing Mia. “You must be starved. But you’re more than welcome to feed her if you want.”

Mia’s cheeks heated at the offer. “I don’t know the first thing about feeding a baby.” That, and she was sure the baby in her arms would call her bluff and jump if Mia so much as moved.

“It’s simple. She does all the work. Just hold her like this.” Judith moved Clara into a cradle in Mia’s arms and passed her the bottle. “And hold the bottle upright like this. Support her head. She’ll stop when she’s done.”

Mia looked at Colby. He smiled, encouraging her. All right, maybe holding Clara wasn’t like snuggling an escape artist.

Big, bright eyes blinked. Fat cheeks plumped then caved with each suck. Clara was mesmerizing. Enchanting. She made Mia believe in familial happiness for a flash. This was why women spoke incessantly about the biological clock screaming in their heads. She had read about it. Studied it. But before now, it didn’t click. Sugary innocence and unadulterated trust stared up at her, threatening to thaw one of her dark fears. Family. Children. Parents.

“Look at you.” Colby came up behind her and leaned on the chair. His presence made her nervous. What if he didn’t want her to do this? What if he did?

He massaged the anxious knots in her shoulders. In an instant, the hefty weight of concern washed away with his meaningful caress. “Clara’s addictive. Watch out for that, doll. I hate to grab my food to go, but I have to head to work.”

He filled a plastic container. Watching him make his lunch made her laugh. Big, bad, tough Colby Winters—in real life, he was a baby-toting, brown-bag lunch packing, family man. Despite his lean muscles and hard-edged face, he was an honest man, trying to fix the world one tear gas grenade at a time.

“It’s easy to see why. She’s perfect, Colby. You’re a lucky man.”