“Here comes her mama now,” Lizzy said brightly. “Don’t you two be fighting over her.”

She beckoned to the woman who was gazing through the window. Hardy took one look at the baby’s mama and wanted to flee. She was every bit as beautiful as he’d remembered, every bit as much of a shock to his system. If he hadn’t been holding her baby, if Lizzy hadn’t kept a hand clasped on his shoulder in a less-than-subtle attempt to keep him in place, if it wouldn’t have been the most cowardly thing he’d ever done, he would have leaped up and run like crazy.

Lizzy made the formal introductions that had been skipped the night before, gave them both beaming smiles, then took off and left them alone, clearly satisfied by a sneaky job well done. Hardy awkwardly got to his feet, then gestured toward the rocker.

“After what you went through a few hours ago, you should be sitting down,” he scolded.

Trish gave him an amused look, but she dutifully sat. He all but shoved the baby into her arms. For a moment, with her attention riveted on her daughter, neither of them spoke. Eventually she sighed.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“You handled it like a real pro. Are you in the habit of delivering babies by the side of the road?”

“No way. This was a first for me. Can’t tell you how glad I am that I didn’t foul it up. What were you doing out on a lonely stretch of highway in a snowstorm, anyway?”

“Running away from home,” she said wryly. “It’s a long story.”

And one she clearly didn’t want to share. Hardy pondered why a woman in her twenties would need to run away from home. Was it that husband she’d said didn’t exist that she was leaving? If so, getting to know her any better would just be begging for trouble. He twisted his hat in his hands, then asked, “Does that mean you’re not from around here?”

“Yes. I’m just passing through.”

To his surprise, her reply actually disappointed him. Because he wasn’t wild about the reaction, he backed up a step. Entranced by the daughter, intrigued by the mother, he was likely to do something he’d regret. In fact, if he wasn’t very careful, he might be crazy enough to suggest that she stay on just so he could sneak an occasional peek at that little girl growing up. The words might pop out despite his best intentions to steer as far away from them as possible from this moment on.

“Ought to be going now,” he said in a rush.

She reached out a hand, but he was too far away for her to make contact. The gesture was enough to bring him to a halt, though.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said firmly. “You and I need to talk.”

“About the bill,” he guessed, based on Lizzy’s warning. “Don’t get all worked up over it. I was just trying to keep the nurse from having apoplexy. You know how hospitals are about their forms these days.”

“Oh, I’ll admit that threw me, but I figured out what had probably happened. It’s settled now. I’ve already explained to the billing office that the bill is my responsibility,” she said. “No, what I wanted to talk to you about is more important.”

Hardy regarded her warily. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s that?”

“The baby needs a name. I was hoping you could help me choose one. Something that would be special to you.” Her gaze met his. “Your mother’s name maybe.”

Hardy froze at the mention of his mother, a woman who’d run out on him so long ago he could barely recall what she looked like. It wasn’t a betrayal he was ever likely to forget, much less honor.

“Never,” he said fiercely.

The fervent response clearly startled Trish, but unlike a lot of women who’d have taken that as a sign to start poking and prodding, she didn’t pursue it.

“Another name, then. Maybe a sister or a girl you’ve never forgotten.”

Hardy thought of the older sister who’d left home with his mother. Neither of them had ever looked back. He’d go to his grave resenting the fact that his mother had loved his sister enough to take her but had left him behind.

Then he considered the long string of woman whose memories lingered. None were important enough that he wanted to offer their names.

Finally he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Surely there’s a girl’s name you like,” she persisted. “Or even a boy’s name that we could change a little to make it sound more feminine.”

He squirmed under the intensity of her gaze and her determination to pull him into a process that was by no means his to share. Naming a baby should be between a mother and a father. A stranger should have no part in it. But he recalled that she’d told him the night before that there was no father. Well, obviously, there was one, but he wasn’t in the picture. That still didn’t mean that Hardy had any business involved in this.

“Can’t think of a single name,” he insisted, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Well, then, I guess it will just have to be Hardy, after all.”

He thought at first she was teasing, but he could see from her expression that she was flat-out serious.

“Oh, no,” he said adamantly. “That’s no name for a pretty little girl. Not much of one for a man, if you think about it. Comes from Hardwick, an old family name on my daddy’s side. At least one boy in every generation had to be a Hardwick. Just my luck that I came along first in my generation. You would think after all those years of saddling poor little kids with that name, some mother would put her foot down and insist on something ordinary like Jake or Josh or John.”

“What were the girls in your family named?”

He chuckled as he thought of his cousins, every one of whom had been named after flowers. They’d viewed that as being every bit as humiliating as Hardwick. “Rose, Lily, Iris,” he recited, ticking them off on his fingers. He watched her increasingly horrified expression and kept going for the sheer fun of watching the sparks in her eyes, “I believe there might even have been a Periwinkle a few generations back.”

Testing her, he said, “How about that for your baby? I really loved hearing about old Peri. To hear my father tell it, she was ahead of her time, quite the feminist.”

Trish laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“About Peri?”

“About all of it.”

He held up a hand. “God’s truth. I swear it. Somebody, way back when, had a garden thing. Nobody who came after had the imagination to stray from the theme.” He finally dared to look straight into Trish’s eyes, which were sparkling with little glints of silver that made the blue shine like sapphires. “Okay, forget Peri. What’s wrong with naming her after yourself? Trish is a pretty name.”

“Short for Patricia,” she explained derisively. “It’s a fine name, I suppose, but too ordinary. I want something that will make her stand out.”

“Take it from someone whose name was a constant source of teasing, ordinary has its merits.”

He paused for a minute, suddenly struck by a memory of the one woman in his life who’d been steadfast and gentle, his grandmother Laura. She’d died when he was only ten, but he’d never forgotten the warmth she had brought into his lonely life on her infrequent visits. She’d smelled like lily of the valley and she’d always had little bags of candy tucked inside her purse. She was the one person on his mother’s side of the family who’d ever bothered to stay in touch.

“There is one name that comes to mind,” he said, still hesitant to become involved in this at all. His gut told him even such a tenuous tie to this woman and her baby was dangerous.

“Tell me,” she commanded eagerly.

“Laura. It’s a little old-fashioned, I suppose. It was my grandmother’s name.”

“And she meant a lot to you?” she asked, searching his face.

“A long time ago, yes, she did.”

Trish’s expression brightened then. “Laura,” she said softly. “I like it.”

Hardy liked the way it sounded when she said it. He liked the way her voice rose and fell in gentle waves. Even when she’d been snapping his head off during the baby’s birth, there had been a hint of sunshine lurking in that voice.