The cabin wasn’t a dump, at least. Not that Flynn had thought it would be, given that Smith and Valentina had honeymooned here. But after having everything in his life go topsy-turvy, Flynn’s expectations were low across the board.
It was the same lesson he’d learned over and over again as a little kid—knowing better than to expect anything good with two of the worst parents on the planet. It wasn’t until he’d left Centertown for Hollywood, changed his name and backstory, then had a couple of hit screenplays under his belt, that things had begun to look up. In a big way, with gorgeous women throwing themselves at him and large sums of money landing in his bank account.
Ruby began to squirm in his arms, so he set her on the rug by a brightly colored stuffed elephant she seemed to want to play with. She wasn’t yet crawling, but even if he hadn’t already read every baby book on the market and learned that most babies crawled between six and ten months, he figured it was going to happen soon, simply because she was so intent on getting where she was going.
Though his bones felt like they were creaking from lack of sleep, he folded himself into a sitting position on the floor beside Ruby. If he walked away, she would cry. If he even sat on the couch five feet away, she would cry.
Again, he didn’t blame her. Her life hadn’t been easy so far. It was yet another thing they had in common—both of them had been born of adversity.
For Ruby, however, he vowed that she would climb out of it long before he had. No matter what he had to do to make it happen, she would know more triumph than failure, more joy than pain.
With Ruby happily playing with the stuffed elephant, he finally looked around their new temporary home. There was a vase of brightly colored wildflowers on the dining room table, a bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen counter, and a cheerful mug with pens and pencils in it near the old-fashioned phone on the wall. The rugs were soft, the couches plush, and the kitchen table and chairs looked hand-built.
Flynn’s place in Los Angeles was all sharp lines of glass and steel and polished concrete. This cabin, on the other hand, seemed to be made entirely of old wood and rock. Something stirred in Flynn, an innate feeling of comfort in this small cabin.
It wasn’t something he’d thought he could ever feel in a cabin in the woods. Not when he’d done everything he could to get away from the one in which he’d grown up. The bright, perpetual sunlight of LA, the endless pavement and concrete of downtown, the relentless heat—all of those things had saved him and would surely continue to do so once he got over this bump in the road. A few weeks away would surely be long enough for the dust to settle and for the media to move on.
At least, he hoped so.
He’d been rude to Smith’s cousin Cassie. Not nearly as grateful as he should have been. Sorrow, guilt, and exhaustion were dark bedfellows. There was no question that he needed to apologize to her.
It wasn’t just the riot of emotions he’d been dealing with for the past three weeks that had knocked him sideways when she’d opened the door. Cassie’s face had lit up when she saw Ruby—and the glow that radiated from her had stunned Flynn speechless.
Cassie Sullivan wasn’t built like a supermodel. She didn’t have endless legs, hollow cheekbones, or cynical eyes that had seen it all.
She seemed the polar opposite, in fact. Her skin had been devoid of makeup. Her big eyes had been full of wonder, her mouth perpetually smiling. And she had curves too—lush curves that had stolen the words from his mouth and the thoughts from his head.
Damn it, Smith hadn’t sent Flynn to this cabin in the Maine woods to hit on his cousin. To take her innocence and debauch her in every sinfully sexy way he could think of.
In any case, his days of thinking only of how to please himself were done. Ruby was the most important thing in his life from now on—not Flynn’s instant attraction to a beautiful woman.
As though to drive the thought home, Ruby crawled onto his lap with a whimper, giving him a good whiff of her diaper. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then see if you’re in the mood to try some peas or carrots tonight.”
Thus far, she’d wanted only a bottle. All day, however, she’d been gnawing on it more than drinking. Perhaps that meant she was ready for some solid food?
A few minutes later, though her diaper was clean and dry, she wasn’t any happier. Not with creamed corn. Not with her bottle. Not with any of the baby toys in his bag, or the new ones Cassie had left in the cabin for her. Ruby even screamed in the bath, which she normally loved, her face getting redder and redder, her hands tightening into fists, her chest rising and falling with sad little gasps.
He tried everything he could think of. Walking with her, singing to her, even swaddling her, though she was clearly too big—and mad—to be happy wrapped up in a blanket. The sun set and the evening hours ticked by in a symphony of wailing and whimpering. And now, not just from Ruby.
Flynn was desperate for sleep. Far more than that, he was desperate for someone to help him help Ruby.
Was she sick? Had she picked up something on the trip? All he knew for sure was that he was screwing everything up…and that he couldn’t do this alone.
He knew only one person in Maine. Smith’s cousin Cassie. The woman he’d told, only hours before, that he wouldn’t need anything else.
Served him right for being a grumpy jerk. He would grovel like no one had ever groveled before, if only Cassie could help him figure out how to make Ruby smile again.
Bouncing his miserable baby in one arm, he grabbed his phone with his free hand and dialed the number Cassie had left lying on the counter.
CHAPTER THREE
Four o’clock in the morning…
Cassie rolled over in bed, hoping the ringing phone was just part of a bad dream.
She’d had a hard time falling asleep. Her insides had felt all jumbled up after meeting Flynn and Ruby. She couldn’t forget the way they had clung to each other, like the only survivors of a shipwreck.
When the phone kept ringing, she finally accepted that she wasn’t dreaming. She dragged on a robe over her pajamas, then headed into the kitchen, where she kept her phone charging at night.
The number wasn’t one she recognized, but she knew the 213 area code from having shipped boxes of candy to customers in Los Angeles. Her heart seized with concern when she realized it must be Flynn.
“Flynn, is something wrong?” Why else would he be calling in the middle of the night?
“Ruby won’t stop crying. She’s been wailing for hours. Ever since you left.” He sounded on the verge of tears himself. “I don’t know what to do or who to call other than you.”
“Does she have a fever? Or a rash?”
“No and no. She’s barely been out of my arms for the past ten hours, and her temperature is normal. I’ve changed her and fed her and bathed her. She shouldn’t have any reason to cry. But what the hell do I know?” The disgust in his voice at his own presumed incompetence was crystal clear.
“I’m sure you’ve done everything right, but I can come over now if you think that would help. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Hurry.” Ruby wailing in the background was the last thing Cassie heard before the line went dead.
She didn’t bother changing out of her flannel pajamas and robe, simply shoved her feet into a pair of mud boots by the door, grabbed her purse and keys, and ran out to her car.