The Contract Box Set (The Contract #1-3) by Melanie Moreland

Author:Melanie Moreland [Moreland, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781990803086
Goodreads: 62809815
Publisher: Moreland Books Inc
Published: 2022-07-18T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

RICHARD

Gracie’s cry had barely started, and I was out of bed. I hurried across the hall, scooping up my daughter, and cradling her to my chest.

“Hey, baby girl, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

She settled against me, her tiny fists moving restlessly on my chest as she squirmed and fussed. I knew the fussing would soon turn into cries—something I couldn’t stand.

Tears never bothered me before. I could watch a woman sob and wail, and the only thing I felt was annoyed. The first time I saw Katy weep, my heart twisted with an emotion I didn’t understand. Soon enough I learned I hated to see my wife cry. It did something—brought forth a protective urge I never knew I had within me. I had to fix whatever was upsetting her, although much of the time it was me causing the problem. Therefore, I tried not to be an ass too much of the time, although Katy liked to remind me it was deeply ingrained in my psyche.

But my daughter—Gracie crying—brought me to my knees. I couldn’t bear the sounds of her shrill cries or the sight of the tears that ran down her face.

“Richard,” Katy’s voice broke through my musings. “You can’t keep doing this.”

I looked up at my wife standing in the doorway. With a smile, she handed me the bottle, and rubbed her hand down Gracie’s back in long, gentle strokes. I moved to the rocker, sitting down, and getting comfortable with Gracie in the crook of my elbow. I tested the milk, then slipped the nipple into her anxious mouth. The sounds of her greedy swallows made me grin. She had a voracious appetite.

“You’d think we never fed her.”

“She has your appetite. And your impatient streak.” Katy stated dryly.

I chuckled. She was correct on both counts.

She sat on the footstool, gazing at me. “We agreed I’d do the night shift. You have to go back to work tomorrow. You need your sleep.”

“I’m fine. She was crying.”

“She barely whimpered. She might have gone back to sleep.”

“I hate it when she cries,” I admitted. “I’d rather get up and hold her.”

“Richard—”

“I know,” I grumbled. I had read the books about letting them self-soothe, and not reacting to every noise. But this was different. This was my daughter.

“You’ll start falling asleep at your desk if you don’t let me handle the nights.”

“What about you?” I challenged.

“I can nap when she does. You already have someone cleaning the house, and bringing in meals. I don’t have much left to do but nap and look after Gracie.”

It took a lot of convincing, but I had insisted on making those arrangements. It was my way of caring for her.

“Good.” I frowned. “I don’t want to go back to work, if I’m being honest.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t trust me with your daughter?” she asked. Her tone was light, but I heard the worry in her voice.

I bent forward, pressing my mouth to hers. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do. I trust you implicitly with our daughter.

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