by Kate Gilead
“Yeah! Hey, look how hard I can kick this ball!” Stevie says, demonstrating his gnat-sized attention span. He drop-kicks the ball towards Derek, making it sail over his head. They both go chasing after it, shrieking and laughing.
“You hear anything that was said in there?” Dad mutters out of the corner of his mouth.
No point in lying, so I nod.
“So much for client confidentiality,” he whispers.
“I know. Sorry! I couldn’t help it, Dad.” I whisper back.
“Yeah, well. Sorry don’t pay no bills.” But his voice is mild. “Put some clothes on, please.” He puts his finger to his lips and goes back into the kitchen, closing the screen door behind him. “Alice? Hurry up! I’m making coffee, you want a cup?”
I don’t hear her answer but it’s probably ‘yes.’
To his client, dad says, “Sorry about this. Won’t be a second.”
A chair scrapes on the floor. “No rush, Ted,” Mason says, his voice sounding closer. “I’ve got lots of time.”
A tall man wearing a white muscle shirt and faded jeans appears in the doorway. His hands cradle a tiny, light-haired baby, strapped to his body in a cloth carrier. The baby sleeps peacefully, oblivious to the noise around him.
Obviously, this is Mason.
He looks around the back yard, taking in the pool, the pool house, the lawn where the boys are playing.
I’m getting a good look at him…and what I’m thinking is: Hell-o, sexy!
Are you kidding me right now? This guy is…hawt!
Then his head turns and he sees me, sitting in the chair by the door.
His eyes widen as we stare at each other. His gaze travels down my body, all the way to my bare feet, then all the way back up to my eyes.
In turn, I’m eyeballing his v-shaped torso, rippling biceps, and his dark, thick, wavy, hair, which is tied back in a stubby pony tail.
He sucks his bottom lip, then, eyes crinkling with amusement, he turns his attention to the two boys. They’re kicking the ball between them while discussing whose feet are stinkier, soccer or football players.
Stevie notices the man and turns to stare. “Oh. You got a baby, mister?”
Showing even white teeth in a crooked grin, Mason drops me a wink.
“Yep. One day, you might get a baby, too. But, first, you have to kiss a girl.”
“Eeew! Nuh-uh! Girls are gross!” Stevie screams. He flings his head back and stiffens his body, gagging and shoving his arms out like he’s fending off an invisible crowd of girls.
“Yeah, girls are ah-skusstin’, man,” Derek adds, making them both giggle as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.
“Puke!” Stevie yells, deliriously.
“Barf!” Derek screeches back, and the two of them laugh like hyenas. They push each other until they fall to the grass where they flail around like dingbats.
I look at Mason. “Boys,” I say, shaking my head.
He shakes his head too, eyes sparkling with humor. “Girls! So gross,” he says quietly, then lets his gaze flick over my body again.
Oh, my! Hottie McBabydaddy here is checking me out pretty boldly.
My face starts burning at the same time as my nipples start tingling, taking me by surprise, making things warm and tingly between my legs, as well.
Grinning, he says, “You must be Samantha.”
I tip him a wave. “Yeah. That’s me, gross old Samantha.”
“Ah-skusstin’,” Mason says, his grin getting wider. I can’t help but smile back.
This is the first time a brand-new father has ever flirted with me. It’s kind of nice.
He’s gorgeous!
I like having him look at me in my bikini, but it’s time to cover up. Very conscious of his eyes on my every movement, I stand and pick up my sundress, which is slung over the back of the chair.
Shrugging the dress on over my head, I help it fall into place with a shimmy of my hips.
Mason bites his lip and then looks down at his son.
“Cute baby,” I say. “What’s his name?”
“Andrew. Drew for short. He’s only a few days old.”
“Oh, cool,” I say, as if I didn’t just hear every word of his conversation with my father.
Mom comes to the door now. “Hi Mason so sorry to keep you waiting oh you met my daughter that’s nice,” she says, all in a rush.
Turning to smile at her, he says, “Yes, I heard all the commotion and…”
“Excuse me, just one sec,” Mom cuts him off. He gives me an amused look as she sticks her head out the door. “Stevie? I heard your screeching from inside the house. You hurt your sister’s feelings!”
“Aww! I said I was sorry,” he says, even though he didn’t, exactly. But I know he didn’t mean anything, he’s just over-excited.
“Now, you and Derek go change into your trunks and then wait outside the pool fence. Outside the fence! I’ll be right there. If you stick so much as a toe inside that fence without me, you won’t swim again this summer.”
“I know, I know! Okay!” Stevie says, and the two kids take off running to the pool house to change.
“This will be your life soon, Mason,” Mom says, smiling. “I let them have a soda on the way home. I think they’re having a sugar buzz.”
Mason chuckles.
“Good morning, Samantha,” Mom says to me.
“Morning,” I say. “I thought you were taking Stevie to day camp?”
“That’s next week. Today was soccer practice. Look, would you mind sitting tight while I witness something for your dad? The boys probably won’t go inside the fence, but…just in case. It’ll just be a minute.”
“Sure, Mom. Go ahead.”
“Er, um…excuse me, but, would you mind if I take the baby and sit outside?” Mason says. “It’s a nice day. I could use some fresh air.”
“Not at all, go right ahead,” Mom says.
“Thanks.”
“Sure, sure,” Mom says, flapping her hand.
“Oh, and Ted suggested I ask you about nanny services, when you have a minute?”
“Of course!” Mom says, happy to be consulted. “Ted? Mason wants to sit outside.” Mom goes away from the door, joining Dad in the kitchen. “I’ll bring the coffee out. He wants to talk to me about nannies.”
“I know, Alice. I told him to ask you.”
“Right, right,” she says. “God that coffee smells so good. Oh, did you put a pinch of salt in the grounds?”
“No, I did not. You know I don’t take salt with my coffee.”
I stretch, knowing that Mason’s watching. His eyes on me are making me feel all kinds of self-conscious.
In a good way.
Gosh, he is such a handsome dude!
But…it’s not just his looks. I think it’s cool that he’s doing the right thing, raising a child on his own.
There’s something so attractive about that.
A guy who looks like him doesn’t have to be alone, though. I’m sure he’ll find a willing stepmother for his child soon enough.
I’m wondering how old he is. He looks maybe thirty? It’s hard to tell.
Mason comes out and takes a seat in the chair that I just vacated, cradling the baby’s head and bottom as he sits down.
“Here,” I say, positioning one of our big deck umbrellas so it shades him and the baby.
“Thanks, Samantha,” he says. “Appreciate that.”
I nod and smile.
“I told you, the salt isn’t for flavor, it’s for bitterness,” Mom’s saying.
“Are you suggesting that I brew bitter coffee?” Dad says.
“I’d never accuse you of brewing anything bitter,” Mom replies.
“That’s because you keep me so sweet, dear,” Dad says.
Of course, we can hear them both clear as a bell.
Oh, boy.
“Wow,” Mason says, looking at me with a glint in his eye. “You can hear everything they’re saying in there from out he
re, can’t you?”
“Oh…can you?” I say, looking at him innocently.
He snorts, grinning.
“So, you heard my conversation with your dad. Don’t worry, I won’t make an issue out of it. As long as you don’t go blabbing about this on social media or whatever.”
“Hell, no. Why would I, anyway? No offense but you don’t look familiar. You famous or something?”
“Not exactly. People know of me, though.”
“Oh?” I shrug. “Look, I was out here minding my business. I was half asleep. I should have got up and left when I heard you coming into the kitchen, but…I just didn’t. I’m sorry, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, a smile quirking his lips. And nice lips they are, too.
Hmm.
My dad comes to the screen door, shoves his hands in his pockets and looks from Mason to me, and then back to Mason, without saying a word.
“It’s okay, Ted. If any of this leaks, I’ll know whose ass to sue.” Mason laughs, but not unkindly.
“Great,” Dad says dryly, turning away.
Mason chuckles again, and Baby Drew, snuggled against his father’s chest, stirs, and stretches, his tiny fists reaching into the air while his wee round bottom pushes out against the fabric of the carrier.
Awww!
“Oops,” Mason says, softly. “Did Daddy wake you up? Huh?”
The baby open his eyes, smacks his lips and squirms, then freezes, catching a glimpse of one of his own fists and staring at it in fascination.
“Um, Samantha? Would you mind grabbing that diaper bag from the chair in there?”
“Sure,” I say, and fetch it out to him.
The baby’s squirming again, in earnest now, making mewling noises and trying to suckle his fist.
I take a seat next to Mason while he searches in the bag. He finds a small bottle with a few ounces of formula, sets that on a low table and reaches back into the bag. He pulls a baby blanket out of it and lays that across the bottom part of the lounge chair.
The boys burst out of the pool house, wearing their swim trunks and carrying their towels, just as Mom and Dad come out of the sliding door, Mom carrying a tray full of coffee mugs, Dad carrying his trusty iPad.
Stevie runs to the fence surrounding the pool and starts tugging on the gate. “Can we go in now? Can we?”
“Nope,” Mom says, putting the tray on the table. “Both of you! Come here and let me put some sun screen and your water wings on.”
Both boys dutifully come over and stand in front of her, holding their skinny arms out from their bodies.
Mason unbuckles one of the carrier straps and lifts Andrew out of it.
The baby stays curled up, like newborns do, his bottom sticking out adorably.
“It’s so small!” Stevie says, watching Mason and the baby.
“It’s a he. A baby boy, Steven. You were small like that once, too,” Mom says.
“No way!”
Mason smiles. “Okay, here goes,” he says, laying the baby carefully on the blanket. His hands, as he opens the baby’s onesie, look freakishly huge in comparison with the newborn.
Mason looks at me, then feels inside the diaper. “Oh yeah, it’s soaked,” he says.
“Gross,” Derek says.
“It’s full of pee!” Stevie adds, helpfully.
Without being asked, I grab the diaper bag and pull out baby wipes and a fresh diaper, holding them ready.
Tongue sticking out in concentration, Mason gets the soaked diaper off, rolls it up, then looks around, unsure what to do with it.
“Um…” he says, looking at me.
“Put it on the ground, I’ll take it inside in a minute,” I say, smiling.
“Okay, thanks.” He grimaces, then says, “I got a crash course in umbilical care at the hospital. There’s some cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol in the bag somewhere.” I hand him a baby wipe, which he uses to clean the baby’s bottom while I get the other items.
I dip a clean cotton swab into the alcohol and hand it to him. He meets my eyes, nods his thanks, and then I watch as he delicately disinfects the scabbed umbilicus.
“Did he get an ouchie?” Stevie asks.
“No,” Mom says, then explains what an umbilical cord is, as she applies waterproof sunscreen to his back and arms.
Stevie and Derek both listen quietly, eyes wide and mouths hanging open, apparently too baffled or disgusted to comment.
The baby squirms and mewls, arms and legs churning. “It’s okay, buddy, I know you’re hungry! Daddy’s almost done. Almost…there we go.”
Mason’s face is intent and focused on his child, his tone soft and reassuring.
Oh, my gosh, could anything be sweeter?
Or…sexier?
“Give it here,” I murmur, holding my hand out for the used swab when he’s done.
Then, with his tongue back in the corner of his mouth, Mason carefully lifts the baby by the feet and adjusts the clean diaper underneath him, re-folding it until he gets it right, then taping it in place.
Finished, he replaces the child’s onesie and lifts him up, cradling the baby in his beefy arms.
The baby’s mewling stops as his head turns towards his father’s chest, mouth seeking a nipple. When none is forthcoming, his face screws up and the mewling gets louder now, getting ready to turn into a cry.
“Nice job!” I say, admiringly.
“Yes!” Mom says. “You did that like an old pro!”
“What?” Dad says, looking up from his iPad.
“Nothing sweetie, we’re just saying Mason’s doing well changing diapers,” Mom says, indulgently. She begins applying sunscreen on Derek now.
“Thanks, thanks,” Mason says, taking the lid off of the bottle and putting the nipple into Drew’s mouth. The baby suckles instantly, legs and arms flailing until his dad cuddles him closer, helping him to relax and eat.
“Oh. Good work, Mace. I knew you could do it,” Dad says, looking back down at his gadget.
Mason and I look at each other and smile.
“So, Mason,” Mom says. “Is there a certain kind of nanny that you had in mind?”
“I didn’t know there was more than one kind.”
“Oh, well…there’s live-in, there’s live-out, there’s housekeeping nannies and non-housekeeping, and then there are just regular babysitters…”
“Oh God,” Mason says. “I have no idea. I haven’t had time to research that yet. I’ve just been learning to care for a newborn. Taking an intensive course, you could say. I…think I need a live-in nanny. Fast.”
“It probably won’t be super-quick,” Mom says. “You’ll have to do interviews, police and references checks. It can take a while.”
“Samantha’s a babysitter!” Stevie pipes up. “She loves babies! She’s not doing nothin’ else anyway, why don’t you ask her?”
Three
“That’s up to your sister to offer, not you,” Mom says, sliding water wings onto each of the boys’ arms. “Okay, off you go. Walking, no running on the patio!” Both boys walk as fast as they can and go through the pool gate.
“Hold it! Wait for my count!” Mom calls out. The boys stand at the edge of the pool at the shallow end and wait, giggling.
“Ready? One…two…three!” And they both jump in and start splashing around happily.
Mason looks at me, eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t put you on the spot like that. Besides, I’d be looking for someone experienced.”
“Oh, Sam’s a very experienced babysitter,” Mom says.
“Oh? Uh, well, I’m sure she is. No offense, but I’d want someone who specializes in newborns and infants,” he says. “Someone with CPR certification, and, um, you know, someone who could recognize common newborn problems and issues.”
“She has child and infant CPR certification from the Red Cross,” Mom says, proudly. I give her the side-eye and she looks away.
Baby Drew squirms and lets out a cry. Mason takes the bottle out of
his mouth. “Finished! That was fast.” He lifts the child to his shoulder and pats his back gently.
The baby has a pretty good burp. “Ahh, good one!” Mason and I say it at the same time.
We both smile. Then, to me, Mason says, “I didn’t realize there was such a thing as babysitting certifications. It’s cool that you know how to do first aid and CPR on babies and kids, though. I mean, hopefully, you’ll never need to use it, but it’s a good thing to have.”
“Yes. But, honestly, there’s only so much that can be wrong with a healthy baby. You know…they eat, sleep and poop.”
“They poop a lot,” Mason mutters, rubbing the baby’s back. “So how long have you been certified, Samantha?”
“I took the Red Cross certification course when I was fifteen. And a few others since then. I’ve babysat a lot. I prefer sitting for babies and newborns, actually.”
“Oh, really? And how old are you now?”
“I just turned twenty-one. But, I wasn’t planning on doing any babysitting right now, frankly. I’m taking the summer off.”
“Ah.” He shifts the baby in his arms and sighs. “Well, that’s cool. I need someone who’s willing to help with the night feedings, anyway. Someone to spell me off so I can get some sleep.”
I nod, seeing that he’s not convinced, but I don’t care. He’s probably thinking I’m too young or irresponsible or something, which is fine by me.
Mason’s a hottie and I feel sorry for him, but I don’t want to be babysitting, much less getting up at night with a newborn.
Even if the daddy’s a hottie…no. Nope. Nuh-uh.
The baby begins to fuss, squirming and stiffening his body, little hands clenched into fists.
“What is it, buddy?” Mason says. “You got more gas in there?” He places the baby over his shoulder and pats his back some more. Baby Drew quiets down for a moment, but soon begins wriggling and crying again, even louder this time.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Mason croons, and tries cradling the baby against his chest.
The baby’s head turns towards Mason, his arms and legs flailing away.
“He’s still hungry,” I say.
“He can’t be. He just finished his bottle. He drank it all.” Mason holds the empty bottle up to show me.
“How many ounces was that?” I ask.