“Don’t get cocky, Irish. I wasn’t kidding about the laundry.” Her smile slipped out, and Christ, she was beautiful. “But this really is the best plan, don’t you think?”
“You can’t fix me, you know.”
Declan realized he’d spoken the words only after their release, but Tess simply lifted her brows.
“I don’t want to fix you. I want to help you. And I can, if you let me.”
He knew—God, he knew in his bones that he should say no. Getting close to her was dangerous, and there wasn’t much closer than living with the woman. But he’d be more of a burden, not to mention a risk, by staying in his rental, and maybe he could even help her by staying.
“I’ll do it on one condition,” he said.
“And that is…?”
“You let me help you back. Turns out, I’ve got a knack for folding laundry, and I’ll have nothing but time on my hands. You let me earn my keep—and pay rent”—he stepped closer so she’d know he wasn’t budging on either—“and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
For just a beat, he thought she’d argue. Instead, she broke into a smile he felt in no less than forty places.
“With an offer like that, how can I say no?”
“Guess that makes us roommates, then.”
Now all he had to do was resist her, and he’d be just grand.
11
In hindsight, Tess should’ve taken her panties into consideration when she’d asked Declan to move in with her. Namely, the fact that he’d be navigating around laundry baskets full of them.
Never mind the reality that they’d also be in a perpetual kink because—dummy—she was about to share personal space with him 24/7.
Emphasis on personal.
“Home sweet home!” she said, cringing at the too-bright sound of her voice as she led the way over the threshold with Jackson on one hip. She took in the toys, two laundry baskets brimming with (blessedly) clean clothes, errant medical journals, junk mail, water bottles, flip-flops, and other household clutter that had built up since her last day off, and cringed again. At least it was fairly clean beneath the clutter. Tess had to draw the line somewhere.
Declan’s gaze traveled from the foyer to the open living space lit by evening sunlight, then the kitchen and breakfast nook to the left and the hallway leading toward the bedrooms on the right. “It’s nice,” he said, and she had to crack a smile.
“It’s a mess, but it’s mine.” Tess had only stood firm on two things in her divorce settlement. Alec letting her buy out his half of their lease at a stupid-low price had been one. Full custody of Jackson had been the other. No alimony, frighteningly little child support. No more ties to either of them. Alec had wanted to be rid of her so fast, he’d agreed to both in less than a day.
“The place I just left was a mess,” Declan noted, unslinging his duffel from the lean bulk of his shoulder. “This just looks lived in.”
“By, like, twelve college students during exam week,” Tess countered with a laugh. “Let me get this guy situated so I can give you the grand tour. You must be tired.”
“It’s barely nineteen-hundred.” His face was caught somewhere between a wry smile and a scowl, and she gave in. Halfway.
“Fair enough. But you’ve had a long day, with all those tests and scans and baselines. Plus the placement of the continuous-read sensor, which I’m sure didn’t tickle.”
“What, this?” Declan flipped his left arm over, the white disc of the sensor that had been surgically implanted flashing amid all the ink on his triceps. “It’s not so bad. And I feel fine.”
Tess murmured her doubt, but didn’t voice it. His appointment at Remington Mem had lasted six hours, with a breather only for lunch. By the time they’d picked up his things from his old place, grabbed a quick bite for dinner, then fought traffic back uptown…Christ, even she was tired, and she hadn’t been poked at and prodded all day.
Tess turned toward Jackson’s Pack n’ Play. He’d gotten slowly used to Declan over the course of the last couple of hours they’d been together as a trio, and she ruffled his hair as she passed over King Henry and a handful of toys that made far too much noise, but would keep him happily occupied for a few minutes while she showed Declan around.
Declan, who she’d had an undeniable and moderately ridiculous crush on for months. Declan, who was now living in her condo.
Declan, who would be naked in her guest shower every morning. Maybe even at the same time she was naked in her own shower, just a dozen feet away…
Oh, this was just stupid! So she and Declan were roommates. It wasn’t that big a deal—for God’s sake, they were legally married. His staying here was a matter of convenience. The fact that it would make his wellness an easier row to hoe was an added bonus.
You can’t fix me.
Straightening from the playpen and blowing one last kiss at Jackson’s sweet face, she moved back toward the couch, where Declan sat—shit!—thumbing through one of the six romance novels she’d left stacked on the end table, two of which—double shit!—had him on the cover.
“You’ve read these?”
Well, hell. She could hardly tell him they were paperweights, and anyway, her embarrassment was entirely rooted in the fact that she’d had multiple filthy fantasies about his image, not the books themselves.
“Yep.” She lifted her chin and looked him right in his gorgeous green eyes. “Haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re welcome to borrow them for some bedtime reading, if you like.”
To her surprise, Declan tucked the book under his arm. “Thanks.”
They did a basic walk-through of the kitchen and the main living space before she led the way down the hall, stopping at the first door on the right.
“And here’s your room,” Tess said, grateful as hell that she kept the place relatively tidy on the off-chance that she needed to work a double shift and Charlie or Parker or one of her other close friends needed to crash with Jackson. “The sheets are clean, and there are spare towels in the linen cabinet in the bathroom. The washer and dryer are across the hall, and Jackson and I have the rooms at the end. You’ll have the place to yourself, for the most part, though. I’ll be gone by eight every weekday and at least two weekend days a month. For those shifts, I either hire a sitter through a babysitting service or take him to Charlie and Parker’s.”
“But not his da’s.”
Tess laughed at the idea, then laughed some more for good measure. “No. I have sole custody of Jackson, which is the way both my ex and I like it.”
“He sounds like a proper idiot,” Declan said. The word came out as eejit, which somehow made Tess like it more.
“We both came out with what was important to us in the end.”
They lapsed into silence, which Tess was on the verge of filling by giving Declan some privacy, but her cell phone decided to steal the spotlight.
“Damn it.” She frowned at the caller ID. Remington Memorial Hospital, Emergency Department. “Hello?”
“Oh, thank God!” Charlie’s voice came out in a rush, followed by a muffled order for someone to call the blood bank and order all the extra O-neg they could get their hands on. “There was a gas main explosion at a factory in North Point and we have mass casualties incoming. Over three dozen injured, seven…no, eight critical, six DOA. And that’s just the preliminary report. How fast can you get here?”
Tess’s adrenaline didn’t even have time to spike before she answered. “Fifteen minutes, but…” She glanced at her watch and swore. “It’s after seven. Daycare’s closed. Are Connor and Harlow running triage?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, even though Tess already knew the answer. Their clinic was across the street from the hospital, and it was the perfect place for non-emergent patients in a critical situation like this one. Of course they’d be handling the overflow. “We’re all hands on deck, both here and at the clinic. Jonah, Nat, Mallory, all the interns and residents. It’s really
bad, Tess. I wouldn’t have called you otherwise, I swear.”
“Okay, no, I know. Just let me think.” Ten seconds later, she’d come up with exactly zero brilliant solutions. Shit. “I can call the babysitting service, but it’ll take ages for them to find someone available on the fly and send them out here. Jackson’s bedtime is in less than an hour, so it’s not like he’d need much, but…”
“I can do it.”
Declan, who had obviously been able to hear Charlie on the other end of the line, stepped into Tess’s line of vision. “I’ll be here anyway. No reason for me not to keep an eye on the lad.”
“You want to babysit?” Tess asked, her jaw dropping open.
“I can,” Declan said. “It’s an emergency, right? And you’ve just said he won’t be a bother. It’s just a matter of goin’ ta bed in a bit.”
“Wait,” Charlie murmured. “Is that…Declan?”
Lord, Tess could only deal with one of them at a time. “Yes,” she said to Charlie. “Hang on a sec.” To Declan, she said, “Are you sure you can do this?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I promised you I’d help. I’ve got a truckload of first aid training from the Air Force. And you saw my glucose levels all day, not to mention sittin’ across from me at dinner. The new monitor would go wild with noise if my blood sugar dips, anyway, which it won’t. You know I’m not in any danger of a crash.”
He was, on all counts, right. His glucose levels were being constantly monitored now that he had the continuous-read sensor in place, courtesy of Dr. Gupta. All he’d have to manage was a diaper change, a bottle, and a crib transfer, and Jackson had barely napped today. Chances were high he’d crash fast and hard.
“And you’ll call me if you run into any problems? Any,” she re-emphasized.
Declan nodded. “Of course.”
Tess closed her eyes. There were dozens of people flooding into her ED, all of whom needed treatment, some of whose lives depended on having strong, capable hands on them. Her hands.
And she could help them, just as she was helping Declan.
Now, she had to trust him to help her in return.
So she opened her eyes and said, “That baby is the most important thing in my entire universe. If you need anything—”
His fingers circled her wrist. Squeezed once. Didn’t let go. “I understand, Tess. Go. I’ve got him.”
“Okay.” Into the phone, she said, “I’m leaving here in five, Charlie. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
Declan had done countless harrowing things in his life. Relocated to an entirely different continent with little more than the clothes he’d been wearing. Willingly jumped out of all manner of aircraft. Completed dozens of ops he couldn’t discuss with anyone unless he wanted a big, fat court martial for Christmas (which—spoiler alert: he didn’t). But he’d never once been charged with caring for a baby, and even though Tess had given him three full minutes’ worth of rapid-fire instructions before she’d kissed her son and run out the door, Declan was starting to think this might be just a wee bit scarier than swan-diving out of a C-17.
But he’d promised Tess he’d help rather than sit around all useless and frail, so, scary or not, if babysitting was what she needed, then babysitting was what he’d do.
“Right.” He squared his shoulders and looked at Jackson, who looked back at him with an equal mix of curiosity and caution. “So, I s’pose it’s just us for a bit. We’ll make the best of it, yeah?”
As if the lad can answer, scoffed a voice from somewhere inside his head. But anything was better than silence, and besides, Tess had spoken to the boy in much the same way when she’d kissed him goodbye. It couldn’t hurt for Declan to at least give it a go.
Jackson eyed him warily, clutching his brightly colored octopus to his chest. They were going to have to get comfortable enough with each other for Declan to pick the boy up fairly soon, but he didn’t want to rush things and fuck it all up by frightening him. Or worse yet, make him cry.
Okay. He needed to think of this like an op. Objective: lull the target into a sense of safety and security. Strategy: slow movements, distraction, earned trust. Reconnoiter at the baby’s crib by twenty-hundred with a calm and happy target, ready for bedtime.
Game on.
Declan sat down beside the playpen where Jackson sat, still eyeballing him with a decent amount of ehhhh. A stack of small books stood, semi-toppled on the coffee table, and Declan picked up the closest one.
“Goodnight, Moon,” he read from the cover, flipping it toward Jackson so he could easily see the bright colors on the front. “What do you say?”
Jackson didn’t fuss or look away, so Declan figured, what the hell. He opened the book and began to read, but only made it halfway through before having no choice but to shake his head. “Well, this isn’t very sharp, now is it? We could just go ’round the room and make our own story this way, sayin’ goodnight to everything. Goodnight, laundry. Goodnight, TV.” Maybe the next book would be better. Or, at least, make him sound less like an idiot.
But after getting most of the way through The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Declan had to stop, too. “Well, what’s he expect, eating all that food? This doesn’t seem the best thing to be teaching wee ones, now does it?”
He made a face at the book, and to his absolute fucking shock, Jackson broke into a grin.
Something odd fired off in Declan’s rib cage, and he grinned back. “You like that, do you? Seems a bit odd, but alright.”
They went through the rest of the stack, Declan reading each book even though he was ninety percent sure he still sounded ridiculous. But the distraction worked. Jackson seemed to be getting comfortable with Declan’s presence.
Until he wasn’t.
Midway through the last story, Jackson’s smile faded and he started to rub his eyes and fuss. Oh, hell, was he hurt? Could he have gotten something in one of his eyes somehow? Leaning forward, Jackson lifted his arms overhead, his frustration becoming legitimate fussing, until Dec realized…
“Oh. You want me to, ah. Pick you up, then.” He set the book aside and stood, thinking back to how Tess had picked the boy up and held him. It was awkward going, at first—Declan was certain he’d break something vital with his callused hands or unintended strength, and his own arm still throbbed a bit where the surgical resident had placed the sensor for his new glucose monitor. But Jackson surprised him by being sturdy, naturally snugging in against Declan’s chest and grabbing hold of his T-shirt to lean his head on the shelf of Declan’s shoulder.
Whoa. This was…
Working.
“Sleepy, huh?” Declan murmured into the baby’s hair, which was unnaturally soft. Jackson shifted closer in reply, and Declan wasn’t going to wait to be told twice. “Okay. Off to bed, then.”
Recalling Tess’s instructions, he moved to the kitchen for the bottle she’d pre-made during the three-minute crash course on Jackson’s bedtime routine. Declan headed down the hallway, putting the bottle down on the small table beside the rocking chair before taking Jackson over to the changing table where Tess had laid out the pair of pajamas she’d yanked from one of the laundry baskets in the living room.
Huh. “Right. Don’t s’pose you’re going to be able to help me out with this part, are you, lad?”
Jackson blinked at him through the low light of the nursery in response.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Declan looked from the pajamas to the diapers stacked on one side of the changing table, next to all sorts of wipes and creams and some crazy-looking plastic cylinder thing with the words Diaper Genie stamped on the lid, and okay, screw this.
He might have been booted from the Air Force and made to leave behind the only family he’d ever known besides his mam, but he would not be bested by a goddamn diaper change.
Moving the pajamas aside, Declan held on to Jackson with one hand while palming his phone in the other. A quick Google search yielded—holy fuck—65 million hits on how to change a baby’s dia
per, and he chose the first one on the list. The process turned out to be fairly intuitive, although, he put the clean diaper on backwards the first time and had to undo it and start over (the room was barely lit beyond the nightlight in the corner. Sue him). With the baby on his back and already half undressed, maneuvering the pajamas into place was actually easier than Declan had thought it would be. By the time he got the zipper done up and his hands doused with the sanitizing gel beside all the lotions and potions, he was actually feeling sort of okay about the whole watching-the-baby thing.
At least, until he got settled in the rocking chair with the bottle, and Jackson drifted off to sleep in his arms, and he had not even the faintest clue how to get him to the crib without waking the kid and botching everything.
Right, right. Okay. Maybe he could stealth his way through this. Shifting his weight slowly forward, he placed his feet on the floor. Jackson snuffled a little—crap, that was normal, right?—but then settled back into the crook of Declan’s elbow.
So far, so good. No screaming baby. Dec made his way across the carpet with steps that were excruciatingly slow, rivaling his trainer Nic’s hardest shoulder workout by lifting the baby up in the smallest increments, finally lowering him into the center of the crib.
Where his eyes promptly flew open, his head whipping up and his bottom lip jutting out with a soft cry.
“Bollocks,” Declan quietly swore, immediately cranking his mouth shut. “I mean…ah, c’mere.”
He hoisted Jackson back up before he could start to properly wail, and hey, what do you know? The little guy settled right back down.
“There, now. There’s a good lad. Let’s not have your mam murdering me for makin’ you cry. Back to sleep with you.”
The second transition was a little easier, and although Jackson fussed a bit when Declan laid him in the crib, his eyes drifted closed after a few beats. Declan counted the baby’s breaths, twenty of them, all the way in and all the way out, just to be sure all was well before stepping back from the crib. Tess had mentioned the baby monitor—shown him where she kept the part that would allow him to see into Jackson’s room, even in the dark—but the boy looked so small suddenly, asleep there in his crib. Dec had promised Tess he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
Beyond Just Us (Remington Medical Book 4): A Single Parent Marriage of Convenience Romance Page 9