"Tell me where you want—"
Their fingers brushed.
Just the tips, not much of a touch, but it zipped a spark through her she'd never expected to feel again. She certainly hadn't expected to feel it thirteen hours after giving birth.
Surely the reaction was only a byproduct of an emotional day and the crazy intimacy of that moment when he'd opened the door. After eight lonely months, her body craved the comfort of human touch.
Except the spark searing her fingertips had very little to do with comfort.
She might want that comfort, even the spark too in about six weeks, but she didn't want all the baggage that came with it. She'd fought a draining battle to salvage something with Lance because she'd made a commitment to the marriage, only to lose him anyway.
Never again would she risk offering her bruised heart to any man but her son. Patrick needed a steady environment and a strong mother to thrive.
Julia snatched her hand away. The paper crackled in her tight grip. "I can do it. The doctor said it's good for me to walk."
She sneaked a look at the silent man in front of her and wondered if he'd noticed her momentary insanity. If so, that inscrutable expression of his probably covered horrified shock. Like he would actually go into testosterone meltdown over a puffy, post-partum woman in purple pajama shorts.
"Okay, then." He set his LMR on the bedside table and held out his hands, palms up. "At least let me take the little guy in case you're shaky."
Thoughts of sparks and comfort cooled. Her arms tightened instinctively around the bundled baby.
Zach waited, hands unwavering. "I haven't dropped one yet. Promise."
Julia pulled a small smile, but couldn't make herself let go. She wasn't ready. She didn't want to share Patrick.
Or face the inevitable questions.
For just a moment longer, she wanted this day to be as normal as possible. She'd endured enough consolations and platitudes the past eight months to fill the Atlantic. She couldn't stomach any more.
In spite of what others might think, she refused to see Patrick's birth as anything other than a blessing. How could anyone use a harsh word like defect in regards to her child?
To her, he was perfect.
Which meant she needed to set an open, positive tone up front. She would show Patrick a world full of possibility, not limitations. Her son wouldn't be sheltered. Protected definitely, but never hidden away.
"Thanks, Colonel. Just be extra careful with his head." With hands a little shakier than she would have liked, Julia passed over the sleeping infant into Lieutenant Colonel Dawson's callused hands.
She made damn sure she didn't touch him in the process.
Swinging her legs from under the blanket, Julia kept her eyes trained on her toes and waited for the commander's reaction. Should she have simply told him? Maybe it wasn't fair to expect unconditional acceptance when he hadn't been prepared.
Why wouldn't he say something? Anything? Even question her?
She respected, trusted this man's integrity so much. If he didn't react with grace and composure, what could she expect from the rest of the world?
Her heart filled with a fierce protectiveness for her baby. Damn it, she would down a mountain lion for her kid.
Even take on one daunting "wolf' if need be.
Chin tipped defensively for battle, she looked up to find Zach's steady hands cradling her son against his shoulder.
Those hands palmed Patrick's back and head like a seasoned veteran.
Maybe she would find the reassurance in his face as well as his hands. Letting her gaze travel farther, she sought Zach Dawson's brown eyes and found them...
Not staring at Patrick, but at Julia's bare legs.
Chapter 2