Saving Dr. Ryan Read Online Free PDF Page B

bosom, barely hearing the midwife’s explaining away Maddie’s tears to her other babies as something that some ladies go through after they have a baby, that’s all, and they weren’t to think another thing about it.
    Then Ivy scooped Maddie’s new daughter into her arms. “You eat. I’ll get her cleaned up in the kitchen, where it’s nice and warm. Ryan told me you’ve got some clothes for her back at the Double Arrow, but I always bring a little undershirt and sacque with me, just in case. Come on, you two—let’s let Mama finish up her breakfast in peace.”
    Then they were gone, leaving Maddie alone with more food than she could eat in three meals and more worries than any one person should have to deal with in one lifetime.
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    Ivy had changed the radio station on him.
    A frown bit into Ryan’s forehead as he walked into the warm, coffee-and-pancake scented kitchen, his hair still damp from his shower. Country music whined softly from the small radio on the windowsill; except for those times he needed to keep an ear out for the weather, he usually kept it on the classical station out of Tulsa, a habit inherited from his mother. Living alone had its definite advantages. Like being able to count on the radio station staying set where you left it.
    Not to mention being able to cross your own kitchen floor without dodging three other bodies. Generally Ryan considered himself pretty mellow, but he tended to get ornery when confronted with an obstacle course between him and his morning coffee. In fact, he nearly tripped over Noah, who for some reason decided to back up just as Ryan got behind him to reach for the coffee pot. Ryan grabbed the kid’s shoulders to keep them both upright; the boy jerked his head up, his eyes big, growing bigger still as Ryan scowled down at him. He hadn’t meant to, it was just that between his not being able to figure out what to do about Maddie and her kids and his caffeine withdrawal…
    Oh, hell.
    Ryan quickly rearranged his features into a smile, but the damage had been done: Noah dashed back to Ivy’s side like a frightened pup, glancing just once over his shoulder at Ryan before returning his full attention to Ivy.
    â€œWhat’s that?” the kid asked, pointing to the baby’s tummy.
    The midwife held the nearly naked baby in a secure football grip, suspended over the pockmarked porcelain sink as she gently sponged off the little head. “That’s her umbilical cord, honey,” Ivy said, patting the baby dry with a towel, then launching into a detailed description of placentas and umbilical cords that apparently fascinated Noah. For at least two seconds. Then having apparently recovered from his close encounter with the bogeyman, he wandered over to the back door and looked out into the large backyard. There wasn’t anything that would be of any interest to children, Ryan didn’t think—a bunch of overgrown oaks and maples, a badly neglected rose garden, a wooden shed—but Noah timidly asked if he and Katie Grace could go outside anyway. Ryan said he didn’t see why not, since the sun had come out, burning away at least some of the moisture from the leaf-strewn, fading grass.
    The children—and his first cup of coffee—gone, Ryan poured himself another mug, then leaned against the counter, squinting against the sunlight slashing through the curtainless, mullioned backdoor window as he watched Ivy in action. Little Amy Rose Kincaid, less than two hours old, was wide-awake, her dark eyes intent on Ivy’s face as the midwife dressed the infant in a miniscule T-shirt, booties and a plain yellow sacque with a drawstring bottom. The baby stared at her so hard, she nearly went cross-eyed. Ivy laughed.
    â€œLooks like she’s trying to figure me out.”
    â€œTell her there’s a hundred bucks in it for her if she does.”
    Ivy rolled her eyes, then said,