“What the fuck?” he exclaims, dropping his arms. Noah’s holding a baby, Emma no doubt, and looks like shit. His brown hair is all over the place, he’s got circles under his blue eyes, and his normally neatly trimmed beard looks a little bushy around the edges. His tee shirt has green and orange splotches on the shoulder. “You babysitting?”
Emma looks at Taylor with big blue eyes very much like Noah’s and takes a shuddery breath. Well, shit. Taylor actually knows the answer, and he can’t say he’s surprised. Not after everything Noah’s told him.
A dark pink flush creeps up from under the collar of Noah’s shirt. “Um, no, not exactly.” He steps back and Taylor pushes in. Taylor thought so, and… Well. Okay.
Baby stuff is everywhere. On the floor, on the furniture, on the counters. “Did a tornado tear through here?” he asks on his way to the kitchen. “Christ,” he exclaims when he hits laminate flooring. Dirty dishes and baby bottles litter the counter. There’s a layer of white powder and pale beige flakes dusting the dark-colored solid surface countertop.
Taylor peers over the half-wall between the kitchen and the living room. Noah’s standing where Taylor’d left him at the door, looking exhausted and frazzled, and all of Taylor’s bluster dies. He’ll cover all the reasons why Noah’s decision is ill timed and foolhardy later. Maybe. Noah’s not going to change his mind about Emma. Taylor knows this like he knows that Sid-the-no-longer-a-Kid might just be the greatest hockey player ever, so what’s the point really? He shoves the beer in the fridge and then steers Noah to the recliner. Taylor plops his ass on the corner of the coffee table and leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Spill it.”
“Jules called. She sounded bad. Really bad, Taylor. Scared the hell out of me. I told her to bring Emma to me.”
Taylor’s stomach twists. Well, fuck, maybe the situation is more urgent than Taylor suspected. “Is she okay?” From everything Noah’s shared over the last several months, Taylor’d bet his parents’ farm that Julia suffers from post-partum depression and has had to struggle with a colicky baby for the last three months. A baby, it turns out, she didn’t want to raise.
Noah nods. “A neighbor from home came with her. Will watch out for her back in Ten Rigs. She’s fine as far as I know. I haven’t called her…” His eyes close and Taylor reads the weariness in his slack eyes and sloping shoulders. “Haven’t had a chance to call. To check on her or talk about Emma.”
Taylor’s radar starts pinging. “When did this happen?” Emma’s fists are in her mouth, and she’s staring wide-eyed at Taylor. Stains matching those on Noah’s tee shirt color her pale-yellow onesie.
“Um…” Noah blinks and peers bleary-eyed at Taylor. “Very early Monday. Like six a.m. or something.”
Their final game had been Sunday evening. By the time they’d flown home from the East Coast and Noah had gotten in his front door, it would have already been very early Monday. Three days have passed. Three days Noah should have been letting his body recover—he’d taken harder hits than Taylor—and he’s been caring for a high-maintenance infant. “Christ,” Taylor snaps. Emma jumps.
Her face crumples a bit, but Noah’s already jiggling her like a pro, even in his exhausted state, and her features smooth out. She offers a huff of annoyance, and Taylor smiles. She’s adorable and is the spitting image of Noah. Noah said she isn’t his, but the evidence is pretty damning. Taylor’ll give Noah the benefit of the doubt for now, but Julia’s the only woman Noah ever talks about.
“Sorry, Emma,” he says. “Noah, have you slept?”
“I sleep when Emma sleeps.”
“Uh huh…” Taylor knows all about how well and how long infants sleep. He’s got five younger siblings and a half dozen nieces and nephews. He’s helped his sisters out. He’s taken the night shifts so they and his brothers-in-law could sleep. There’s no calling in sick for a farmer. There’s more conversation to be had, but Noah is barely coherent. “Listen, Noah, dude. Go shower and crash. I’ll take care of Emma.”
Noah blinks again and shakes his head as if trying to wake up. He scrubs a hand across his eyes. “No…’m good. We’re supposed to play Xbox.”
“Fuck the Xbox. You need someone to take care of you for a while.” And Taylor is glad for the opportunity. Anything to spend time around Noah, if not expressly with him.
“But you—”
Taylor raises an eyebrow. “No buts. I’m your wingman. I’m your friend. I’m here for you. Shower and sleep.”
“If I know you’re here, I won’t wake up.”
“That’s the point. Sleep as long as you need to. I know how to handle babies. Been doing it since I was six. Honestly, Noah, I’m happy to help.” He really, really is. But. Taylor’s got to get over this childish crush, because he’s too much for unencumbered guys to handle. Noah’s apparently got a kid now. Not only that, but Taylor has no idea if Noah is even interested in men.
Noah makes it hard not to like him, however. Especially when he’s being some kind of hero and rescuing not one, but two damsels in distress.
“If you’re sure.”
“Noe.”
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” Noah gets to his feet with a wobble, and Taylor plucks Emma from Noah’s arms. “Hey, gorgeous, I’m Uncle Taylor. Your, uh, daddy…?” He raises his voice in question after Noah’s retreating figure.
Noah raises a hand with a thumbs up as he stumbles into the hallway and bounces off the wall. That raises more questions than it answers.
Taylor looks at Emma and Emma looks back. Well.
“Your daddy is going to get some sleep.” Taylor glances around the disaster area that is Noah’s living room, kitchen, and entry hall. It’s a large open space, broken only by the section of half-wall that delineates the kitchen from the living room. The sink sits centered in the counter on the kitchen side and bar stools sit under the extended counter on the living room side. Pillars hold up the ceiling on either end of the wall. “And we’re going to tidy up a little, all right?”
Taylor hears the shower come on. Good. A hot shower and a long, deep dreamless sleep will do Noah a world of good. Settling Emma into her carrier and placing the carrier onto the counter, Taylor tackles the kitchen first. He keeps up a steady stream of soft chatter. Emma tracks his movements around the kitchen with her big blue eyes. He tweaks her foot every now and again, earning a gummy, slobbery grin. And fuck all if his heart isn’t in danger of being lost to yet another member of the Drinkwater family.
“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself. To Emma he says, “You’re a very lucky little girl, you know. Your daddy is a special man, and he loves you so much already.” She’s still grinning and waves her fists in his direction. He fist bumps her. “If only I could figure out where his heart lies besides with you.”
Noah loves Julia though too. There’s no doubt about that, but Taylor’s never been able to figure out if it’s brotherly love or if it’s something else. But Taylor has spent enough time with Noah since Noah joined the Rotors four years ago to know that Noah and Julia aren’t and haven’t been in a relationship during that time. He doesn’t know about before. Or about last spring when Noah had gone back to Ten Rigs for Julia’s father’s funeral. The timing is suspicious. Of course, being in a relationship with a woman doesn’t preclude a man from being with another man. Taylor should know. He’s been with both.
Emma makes a raspberry and Taylor glances at her. Right. He’s supposed to be caring for Emma, not speculating about her conception. It’s probably a bad thing to take advantage of the situation Taylor now finds himself in, although it’s not like Noah’s not reaping a huge benefit from Taylor’s presence.
So Taylor’s not going to feel guilty. After all, Noah and Emma need caring for. And if Noah and Julia truly aren’t a thing, Taylor wants to know. Because, if they’re not, she’s a great beard regardless. Noah’s never hooked up in the last four years. Which means that maybe, just maybe, Noah plays for the same team Taylor does, and Taylor doesn’t mean the Rot
ors. If Noah is gay, then Taylor wants to find out if he’s got any sort of chance with Noah. He’ll play it cool and casual, and if it’s not gonna pan out, he’ll just have to get over Noah once and for all.
In the meantime, Taylor’s got a baby to care for and a house to finish cleaning. He feels downright housewifely and grins. “I guess you’re a member of the Rotors now, little one.” Taylor grabs the carrier and sets it on the coffee table. “You’re gonna need a hockey name, don’tcha think?”
Emma burbles in reply.
“We’re gonna clean up in here now and then get you settled in a bit more. Poor Daddy’s wore out and who can blame him? He spent a lot of time on the ice in those last few games.”
Taylor assesses the mess. Most of it is baby stuff. He lifts Emma from her carrier. “Let’s go look at your new room.”
They peek into Noah’s room as they pass. He’s sprawled facedown across his bed in nothing but a pair of briefs. The man’s got a gorgeous hockey ass, that’s for damn sure. And those thighs. Taylor swallows and sighs. He’s seen Noah in his underwear hundreds of times, but always in the locker room and in the context of pre-game or post-game changing. He’s seen Noah in less even. But this… This is intimate. Almost too intimate. Taylor closes the door and moves across the hall.
The queen size bed under the window is flanked by a pair of real wood nightstands, and a matching dresser sits on the wall opposite the end of the bed. The walls are some sort of green color, not quite forest green, not quite moss green.
“So this is going to be your space—how about Sippy?” He gazes down at her. “If Daddy’s Thirsty, you could be Sippy?”
Emma wrinkles her nose and purses her lips.
“No? Hmm, yeah, I’m not sure about it either.”
He takes in the room again. For a guest room, the color’s fine. For a little princess’s room—because Emma’s absolutely going to be treated like a princess. And not only by Noah, but by Taylor himself as well. He kisses the side of Emma’s head. Yeah. He’s totally fucked. Anyway, for a princess’s room, the color’s got to go.
The furniture will have to be stored or gotten rid of, but for now, Emma’s things can be put away in here. By the time Taylor’s got Emma’s clothes sorted and tucked into drawers, she’s fussing again.
“Hey, Little Miss—what do you think of that for your hockey name?”
Emma kicks her legs in seeming displeasure and squawks.
“It’s not that bad,” he says, jiggling her a bit now. “We’ll try it out again later when you’re not so wound up, huh? Let’s do a diaper check and try a bottle.”
After a fresh diaper and a bottle, she’s still upset, and her crying is ramping up. Oh, joy. He circles the kitchen and the living room umpteen times, but to no avail. Not that he expected anything really. Thirty minutes into Emma’s crying jag, Taylor finally has an epiphany. He digs around in Noah’s hall closet and pulls out a queen size flat sheet.
“This ought to do,” he says. “My niece Tara had colic like you, Ems, and my sister would strap Tara to her body with this long piece of material. Then she could do other stuff if necessary. You want to try it?”
Emma wails.
“Well, too bad for you, Little Miss.” Taylor lays the sheet out on the guest room bed and arranges it as best he can remember, then lays Emma down. How the fuck’s he supposed to get the sling, along with Emma, attached to his body? Oh, wait—Suzan had to situate the sling on her body first, then get Tara into it. That’s right.
“There,” he says proudly, ten minutes later. He looks pretty silly with a huge sheet wrapped around him, but Emma’s snuggled against his chest and, even though she’s still going at it, her cries have lost some of their intensity. For the moment, anyway. He’s not fooling himself. “Now, my lovely, let’s play some Xbox.”
The odd sounds of the Pac-Man game he’s playing, along with the colorful visuals, keep her somewhat mollified as well. By the time he’s bested his own high score half a dozen times, Emma’s sound asleep. It’s only taken him two and a half hours, and he heaves a sigh of relief.
Emma repeats the cycle of being awake and happy, awake and crying, and being asleep three more times by the time Noah emerges from his room. Taylor swallows hard at the sight of Noah looking soft and sleep rumpled.
God, Taylor wants. He wants down and dirty sex, he wants unhurried sex. But he also wants to hold hands, murmur sweet nothings, and generally just be together. Unfortunately, he’s never found a man who’s willing to put up with him. He’s too much, he’s been told. Too touchy-feely, too clingy, too needy. He’s all the things men dislike about women. They certainly don’t want that in a queer man. Taylor sighs. Noah’s always been rather reserved. There’s just no way he’s gay.
Once Taylor helps Noah get up to speed on baby tending, he’s gonna go on a hookup spree and get Noah out of his system once and for all.
Chapter Three
Noah slides into wakefulness in stages. It’s dim, but not dark in his room. The clock says it’s after seven, but he can’t tell if it’s a.m. or p.m. The condo is silent…no not quite. There’s some sort of noise coming from the living room. A shiver ripples through him. No wonder he’s chilled…he slept on top of the covers rather than underneath. Normally, he hates sleeping without at least a sheet over top of him, but he’d been so worn out and the shower had relaxed him so much, he’d barely made it into his underwear, much less under the covers, before his eyes closed and he’d fallen asleep. He’d obviously slept so hard that even a slight chill hadn’t woken him. Now he feels sore on top of sore, not only from hockey, but from his muscles being contracted in an effort to keep warm.
His ribs, back, and thighs still ache, reminding him of every minute of ice time from the last three games. Just over sixty minutes total, as the teams the Rotors played were also competing against them for standings and playoff slots. The Rotors had played hard, but ultimately, they’d missed the mark.
He should be more disappointed about not making the playoffs than he is, but with Jules’s situation having come to a head, he’s glad that the season is over and that he has nothing to worry about but Emma for the next four months or so.
Noah’s mind wanders to Taylor. He’s grateful for Taylor’s friendship. They’d clicked on the ice right from the beginning, but their off-ice relationship had taken longer to develop. Now they’re solid, though, and they hang out often, not only on road trips, but also between them. They’ve even planned a couple of adventures for before summer ends. Noah isn’t sure how Emma’s arrival is going to change things.
Taylor’s acceptance of Noah’s decision to take Emma had been immediate and unwavering, or so it seemed. Noah hadn’t been all there when Taylor had shown up. But Taylor’s willingness to care for an oft-squalling infant for an indeterminate amount of time is indicative of Taylor’s soft heart. Brash and sometimes crude on the outside, he’s a marshmallow on the inside. And he loves kids too. He brags on his nieces and nephews all the time, shares pictures that his sisters send. Even draws attention to the accomplishments of their teammates’ kids when they share with him. It’s one of the things that Noah likes so much about Taylor.
Noah pulls on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and pads out to the living room. The creeping darkness out the east window tells him it’s evening. His gaze settles on Taylor, and Noah stops short, trying to figure out what he’s seeing. Taylor’s got a bedsheet wrapped around him and there’s a huge moving growth on his chest.
“Is Emma in there?” Noah asks, incredulous. “For goodness sake’s, why?”
A wide grin spreads across Taylor’s face when he looks up and nods. He runs a gentle hand along the curve of pale blue 700-thread-count sheeting. “Babies like to be close to their parents, but it’s hard to get anything done when your hands are full of wiggling infant. There are official slings or whatever they’re called. I had to improvise.”
“I see that. Did it help?” Noah wants to laugh and can’t quite hide his chuckle. T
aylor looks ridiculous, but he’s got a confidence that Noah envies. He loves that Taylor’s a good sport about being chirped too.
Taylor stands and holds his arms out. The bundle sags slightly but otherwise stays put. “Some, yeah. I mean if you’re going to hold her anyway, may as well make it as comfortable as possible on the both of you, right?”
Noah nods. It makes sense.
Taylor shifts the edge of the sheet and looks into his Egyptian cotton pouch. “Hey, Ems, look who’s awake.” His low volume and sweet tone endear Taylor to Noah all the more. If he hadn’t already developed an affinity for Taylor, Taylor’s care of Emma would have tipped him over the edge.
Noah leans close and sees her gnawing on a small teething ring, and his heart turns over at the happy expression he gets from Emma. How can he be so in love already? He reaches for his baby girl. “Can I?” he asks Taylor.
“She’s all yours, Daddy-o.” Taylor helps unwrap her and hands her over. They settle back on the sofa side-by-side.
Noah cradles her in his arm, curves a hand over her fuzzy head. “Hi, sweetheart.” Her eyes crinkle and her whole body wriggles in response. “Were you a good girl for—” He looks at Taylor. “—Uncle Taylor, was it?”
Taylor shrugs, upper arm sliding along Noah’s. “If you don’t mind.”
Noah nudges Taylor’s shoulder with his own, feeling grateful as well as tickled pink that he even wants to be considered an honorary uncle. “Well, after you swooped in here like a guardian angel to care for the two of us, how could I mind?” As the only child of an only child, Emma can use all the family she can get. “She’s lucky to have you in her corner. I am too, Taylor. I really appreciate you caring for her so I could sleep.”
Noah looks up and finds himself practically nose to nose with Taylor. Taylor’s eyes are large and golden brown in the soft light. His gaze flicks from Noah’s mouth to his eyes. If Noah hadn’t been so close, he’d have missed the slight flush of color along Taylor’s cheeks. Huh. Weird.
Rock the Cradle of Love Page 2