His smile faded. “I know. And I like that.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs. So many times, in so many ways, they acted more like parents than a boss and nanny. She should have remembered that when she decided to help him shop, but she owed him. He’d taken her on the bike, given her a bonus, fixed her car.
Their gazes caught and he smiled again.
Intense need gripped her heart, captured her soul. What she wouldn’t give to be able to love him.
She glanced around frantically, looking for something to break the spell. “So how about new bears?”
“What’s wrong with the old bears?”
“See? That’s why you need me around. There’s nothing wrong with the old bears. But you’re building a whole bear/stuffed animal family. Your kids need big bears and little bears and silly bears and normal bears. And let’s not forget colored bears.”
“We’re going to buy eighteen bears?”
“No, silly! You build your bear family over the years. You get them a new bear every birthday and Christmas. Sometimes on Easter. Sometimes on Valentine’s day.”
He stared at her. “Seriously?”
“Hey, you should be glad kids like bears. They’re an easy, no-brainer present.”
He mumbled, “I’m going to have to get a house as big as my mom’s just to fit the bears,” and headed for the stuffed toys.
Laughing, glad their serious mood had lifted, Tory scooted after him. The temptation was strong to twine her arm with his. To stroll down the aisles of toys arm in arm, laughing. Talking about their kids.
But she squelched it. They weren’t her kids. Even though she was raising them. Even though she was mothering them. Even though she’d probably never have any kids of her own. Chance’s babies were not hers. She could still love them, but they would never be hers.
And he would never be hers.
Her heart broke a bit, but she shoved that pain aside. Lots of people had worse crosses to bear than hers. In many ways she was lucky to have his kids in her life for as long as she could get them.
They chose four bears, a big one and a small one for each baby, then they moved to dolls.
Chance picked up a box containing the popular fashion model doll, dressed in a ball gown. “What about this one?”
She winced. “When Cindy’s about six, yes. Right now, no.” She reached for a softer doll. One Cindy could hold, cuddle in her sleep. “This is probably what she would like.”
Chance smiled crookedly. “Looks like her.”
With blonde curls peeking out of her bonnet and pretty blue eyes, the baby did look like Cindy. Her heart warmed again. “I guess she does.”
He dropped the doll into the big blue store bag they’d picked up once they realized how difficult it would be to carry four bears. “Now what?”
Tory led him down the aisles that had learning games for babies.
He froze in his tracks. “Are you kidding? They’re too young to be stuck with some stuffy learning games!”
“Learning games for babies are created to be fun. There’s music and sound, pictures and sing-alongs.” She picked up two games. “Trust me, they will love these.”
They shopped for another hour, choosing puzzles and blocks and plastic trucks and cars for both babies.
“They’ll love to roll these on the ground, and watch them go.” She laughed. “That is, when they aren’t chewing on them.”
He stopped suddenly and faced her. “How do you know all this?”
She shrugged. “I babysat the neighbor’s kids during summer vacation three summers in a row.”
“How many kids?”
“Three. From a toddler the whole way up to a ten-year-old, who was a thirteen-year-old the last year I watched them.” She smiled at the memory. “The first year, my mom helped. She was next door, so it was more or less me watching the kids and her watching me.”
He chuckled. “Sounds fun.”
“It was…well, eye-opening.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I learned the mechanics of caring for kids, feeding, bathing, discipline, that kind of stuff. And also the pitfalls. Sassing. Tantrums.” She caught his gaze. “Even had a runaway once.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Penny, the thirteen-year-old decided to sneak out with her friends.” She winced. “She did not think it was funny when her mom arrived at the park instead of me.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”