“Have you ever done this before?” Amber asked shakily.
“Yes,” Rush lied. Technically, it was a horse, and he was only assisting Gage when he spent a weekend at his lodge on Autumn Ridge. But the principles were the same. Mostly.
Amber wailed. “Oh, thank God.”
Rush looked her dead in the eye. “You’re doing great.”
Lily thrust the blankets at him. Her fingers brushed his, and just that touch was enough to steady him.
“All right, Amber,” he said, crouching closer and lifting her bathrobe. “One push. That’s it. You’ve got this.”
Amber screamed, and that was when he saw it—dark hair crowning, slick with fluid. His heart hammered so hard he heard it in his ears, but his hands were steady as his training took over.
He braced his palm under Amber’s thigh, ready to support the baby’s head as it emerged. “That’s it,” he coached. He forced his voice to stay calm, even as adrenaline coursed through him. “Breathe. When the next contraction comes, you push again. Don’t fight it.”
Amber sobbed, panting and shaking. “I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice sharpened with authority. “You already are. You’re doing this perfectly.”
It seemed to steady Amber, and she nodded just as another contraction slammed through her.
She bore down with a primal cry, and then—suddenly—there he was, shoulders rotating with a slippery twist, and then the rest of the baby slid into his waiting hands—warm, wet, and impossibly real.
A baby. A tiny, eerily quiet, but very much alive baby pushed into the cold January air and into Rush’s arms.
For a second, Rush’s heart stopped.
“Blanket,” he said hoarsely. Lily pressed one into his hands, and Rush wrapped the newborn gently then placed him in Amber’s shaking hands. “It’s a boy.”
Amber sobbed, clutching her son to her chest. “Is he okay? Why isn’t he crying?”
Rush leaned over the tiny bundle, who was blinking with very serious, very calm eyes. He pressed his finger to the tiny, steady pulse in the baby’s chest. “He’s perfect,” he said huskily.
“Oh, thank God,” Amber breathed. Then, a look of utter panic crossed her face. “I don’t want to do that again.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” Rush muttered, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with his shoulder. Neither did he.
“You’re incredible,” Lily murmured, pushing Amber’s damp hair back. She cupped a hand under the baby’s bottom to steady him on Amber’s chest. “Oh my God, Am. Look at your son.”
The awe in her voice made Rush look up. Lily’s eyes were wet. Hell. His were too. He smiled crookedly at her, in awe of the power of the woman who had just given birth and the one looking at him like he hung the moon.
But the EMTs better get here soon because as incredible an experience as it had been, he didn’t particularly want to do it again.
Fortunately, headlights flashed in the dusk as Theo’s truck skidded to a stop behind them a second later. He leaped out of the cab, ran straight for the open car door, and dropped to his knees in front of his wife.
“Oh my God,” he choked, staring at Amber, at the tiny bundle. “Is that—? Are you?—?”
“It’s your son,” Rush said gruffly. “The other one’s not here yet.”
“But she’s coming,” Amber moaned. “Take the baby. I have to push.”
Theo looked stunned. Then, a huge, dazed grin broke across his face. “You were always so impatient,” he whispered to Amber, kissing her sweat-damp forehead.
When the ambulance pulled up alongside them a second later, Rush had never been so happy to see EMTs in his life. He sat back on his heels, his adrenaline ebbing. His hands shook as he stripped off his gloves.
Lily came up beside him, her breath clouding in the cold air. “You did it,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face.
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight. But he pulled her to his side and held on tighter.
