![]() ![]() ![]() After he gave her the last bottle he had, he was at a loss. At about two in the morning he started to think the last choice might be the correct one. Either she was hungry, needed changing or something else was wrong. And he knew in baby talk, crying meant something. The problem was, he didn’t know what things a baby required. The baby in his arms had insisted on the supplies. ![]() And then this morning he’d gotten up early to head into Dawson for a few necessities. Exhaustion must be getting to him or it wouldn’t have crossed his mind.įor the past two nights he’d gotten almost no sleep. He thought about approaching her, and then reconsidered. He grinned at that comparison and watched as she hurried through the glass door at the front of the store. She was a sleek and shiny European car in a world of pickup trucks. She looked like an executive from some Tulsa high-rise office building, not the daughter of a wealthy rancher. He even kind of liked her in a slim-fitting business suit, her high heels clicking on the floor as she walked through the door. The hint of red probably came from a bottle, but he liked it. But there she was, running down the sidewalk, brushing a hand through her shoulder-length auburn hair. When Keeton West entered Convenience Counts store at seven in the morning, Sophie Cooper was the last person he expected to see. ![]()
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