“Of course.” Mrs. Farnes raced back to the kitchen.
Bella followed, wiping tears from Drew’s cheeks as she went.
“Vinegar?” Blake demanded, suspicious.
“It’s what we always used on the farm. The acid neutralizes the venom.”
“What about a doctor?”
She kissed Drew on the temple and snuggled him close. “He’s not showing any signs of a reaction. I think he’ll be just fine once his hand stops hurting.”
As difficult as it was to entrust his son’s welfare to another person, Blake knew that if he interfered, he would disrupt the attachment sparking between Bella and Drew. And this was exactly the sort of situation where Bella shone. Taking care of someone who needed her was as natural as breathing for her. She just needed to stop denying who she was.
Drew’s sobs had devolved into ragged inhalations that shook his whole body, followed by a keening cry that had Bella blinking back tears of her own. Blake watched them. Was this the moment Bella transformed into a concerned parent, or was she merely distraught because Drew was so upset?
“All set,” Mrs. Farnes said, gesturing to the kitchen table where she’d set a bowl and some dishcloths. “I gave you some ice as well to numb the area. Is that all you need? I could make a baking soda paste.”
“My mother never had much luck with baking soda.” Bella sat down with Drew in her lap. She dipped a towel in the water and applied it to the back of his hand.
While Drew screamed with renewed enthusiasm, Blake marveled at the range of home remedies these two women knew. He hunkered down beside his son and touched Drew’s cheek.
“He seems hot,” Blake said.
“I’m not surprised,” Mrs. Farnes murmured, handing Drew a cookie. “He’s worked himself into quite a lather. This should help.”
Hiccupping, Drew stuffed the cookie into his mouth. He smacked noisily, distracted from the pain in his hand. Bella and Mrs. Farnes exchanged a knowing glance. As the level of estrogen in the room peaked, Blake was assailed by a renewed sense of urgency. Drew needed a mother who would tear up when he was hurt and fiercely protect him from the world’s dangers. She would teach him respect for women and how to be both strong and gentle at the same time.
He would not grow up with a hole in his heart and a head full of questions about why his mother had abandoned him.
“I think it’s working,” Bella said, her gaze shifting to Blake. “Will you hold him for me while I fix a bottle?” She dipped the cloth in the vinegar once more and handed it to Blake before she shifted Drew to him. Her fingers slipped over Blake’s hand as he sat down, the tender contact a warm reminder of their earlier kiss. “He’s going to be all right,” she told him softly, her voice encouraging.
Blake tracked her progress across the kitchen, his skin tingling in the aftermath of her light touch. She’d managed his worries over Drew’s wasp sting with the same calm reassurance she’d used with his son. As much as she denied that she was cut out for motherhood, she was a natural. More than a natural. She was innately driven to make those around her happy.
The large kitchen became more homey as the smell of cooking onions filled the air, the sound of them sizzling in the pan blending harmoniously with the hum of female voices as Mrs. Farnes began dinner preparations.
Lifting the damp cloth off Drew’s wasp sting, Blake noticed the red mark on his son’s hand had been reduced to a dot the diameter of a pencil. The progress pleased him.
“It looks a lot better,” Bella commented, peering over Blake’s shoulder.
Her dark brown hair fell forward, brushing his cheek. He had a quick second to fill his lungs with the scent of vanilla before she swept the wayward strands behind her ear. While she peered at Drew, Blake studied her profile. Her nose had a slight bump from being broken when she was ten while rescuing her three-year-old brother from a charging billy goat owned by her grandmother.
It was the only imperfection in an otherwise lovely face. Softly rounded cheekbones, a well-shaped mouth and pale blue eyes that tilted up at the corners gave her a fresh, girl-next-door look so unlike his ex-wife’s sleek sophistication. Combine that with a smile that went from uncertain to delighted in the blink of an eye, and Blake had a hard time keeping his mind focused on his plans and off the delectable kiss they’d just shared.
Already he’d done something he’d intended to avoid. But what Jeanne had said to him about Bella finding him attractive had been gnawing at him. He’d gone over every memory he had of Bella and found no sign that she’d been anything but friendly toward him. Today he’d thrown Jeanne’s words in Bella’s face, expecting her to hotly deny it. Instead, her protest had lacked conviction. He’d expected her to slap his hand away. To get angry.