“What are her favorite foods?” he asked, studying the larger jars intently.

“Ice cream and French fries.”

Cody stared at her. “That’s her diet?”

“No,” she said patiently. “Those are her favorites.” She gestured to the junior baby food. “This is what she gets most of the time. When I have time, I even blend some myself from fresh fruits and vegetables. She’s particularly fond of squishing bananas.”

Cody eyed the jars of carrots and meats and fruits, seemed to struggle with his conscience, and then turned his back on them. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To the ice cream section,” he said as grimly as if he were going into battle and the enemy had pulled a last-minute tactical switch. “I’m not bringing home jars of that disgusting-looking liver or those limp little bits of carrot if she’d rather have ice cream.”

“Cody, I do feed her. You don’t need to stock my refrigerator, especially not with ice cream.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “Don’t you see, this isn’t about you. It’s about me and my daughter. You’ve had her to yourself for thirteen months. Now I want a chance to be important in her life.”

“By stuffing her with chocolate-fudge ice cream?”

Instead of taking her well-intended point, he seized on the tiny sliver of information she’d imparted about their daughter. “Is that her favorite? I’ll buy a gallon of it.”

He sounded relieved to know that he wouldn’t have to resort to another round of guesswork and label-reading. In fact, he was loping off to the frozen food section before Melissa could gather her thoughts sufficiently to argue with him.

Okay, she told herself, it was only a gallon of ice cream. So what? It wasn’t as if he could buy their daughter’s affection or ruin her health with one extravagant gesture of chocolate fudge.

She had a feeling, though, that this was only the beginning. Cody was not a man to do anything by half measures. His retreat to Wyoming, abandoning not only her but his beloved home and family, was a perfect example of that. He could have straightened everything out between them with a few questions or even by hurling accusations and listening to explanations. Instead he had leapt to a conclusion and reacted by impetuously fleeing to another state.

He was doing much the same thing now that he had discovered he had a daughter. He wanted to be in her life—completely—right this instant. He wanted to marry Melissa...right this minute. The concepts of moderation or patience had obviously escaped him.

She sighed as he appropriated the shopping cart. The two half gallons of chocolate-fudge ice cream had turned into four. And she didn’t like the gleam in his eyes one bit as he turned the cart on two wheels and headed straight for the shelves of diapers.