Don't Baby Me_Maple Mills Book Four

by Kate Gilead

  “That was two ounces. That’s what the nurses at the hospital said to give him.”

  “Did you bring any more?”

  “I have another two-ounce bottle, yeah.” He’s already pulling it out of the bag. He flips the top off and puts the nipple into the baby’s mouth. The baby fastens and sucks frantically.

  “You’re right,” Mason says. “He’s still hungry.”

  “He’s just graduated to a bigger feeding, that’s all,” I say.

  “Already?”

  “At this stage, they’re growing faster than they ever will again, for the rest of their lives,” I say. “He’ll need more formula per feeding as he gets bigger, and then he’ll graduate to pablum and then baby food, and so on.”

  Mason’s nodding. “Huh.” He smiles, his expression showing a dawning respect. “I…think I read that somewhere, but…” He shrugs. “There’s a lot to learn.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say, grinning.

  He stares at me for a moment. “So. Alright then. I know you’re taking time off, and I said I wouldn’t put you on the spot. But… I’m kind of in a bit of a spot here, myself. How about this…would you be willing to help me out for, say, a week or so?

  “I…um…a week? I don’t…”

  “I’ll pay you double the going rate, on account of the short notice.”

  “Oh, heh. It’s not about the money, it’s just that I…”

  “Plus a bonus. A big bonus. I could really use a helping hand while I get something permanent lined up.”

  I look at his handsome face. He does look tired. He’s obviously been through a lot in the last little while. His voice sounds kind of desperate, too.

  “How about just for a few days then?”

  Poor guy! A few days…what’s a few days out of my life?

  “I…alright. Okay.” Mom looks over at me sharply, raising her eyebrows.

  “Really? Thank God. Do you think you could start right away? Oh wait…forget it. It’s Saturday, you probably have plans.”

  “I…nah, nothing important,” I say. Shit! I’m probably going to regret it, but…something about Mason and his situation is getting to me.

  Mom, who knows damn well I’m lying, lets out a squawk and then covers it up with a coughing fit.

  “No? Great. So, you can start right away?”

  “Um, ah…well, I’ll need to pack, and…”

  “Right, sure. You want to talk payment now or later?”

  “We can decide later.” I don’t want to discuss that in front of my folks, or my nosy little brother.

  “Okay, no problem.”

  I look over at Mom. She smiles at Mason and me but doesn’t say anything.

  “So, I got a babysitting job, Mom,” I say, ironically stating the obvious.

  “Who got a babysitting job?” Dad finally looks up from his iPad.

  “Your daughter,” Mom says, and patiently explains what just happened.

  “Oh, that’s good,” Dad says. “Let me know when you’re ready to sign the papers, Mason.”

  Half an hour later, the papers are signed and duly witnessed.

  I help Mom bring lunch out for everyone while Mason has a word with Dad about me coming to stay with him for a few days.

  He knows I don’t need their permission, but I can tell he’s doing it out of respect.

  Then he tells me a little about himself, so that we’re more properly introduced. His full name is Mason Grimmell, he’s a robotics engineer, he’s from California but moved here years ago. He runs a business from his home outside Johnstown.

  Dad’s complete lack of concern about me going to stay with Mason is assurance enough for me that he’s a good guy. I don’t know his entire life story, but Dad probably does. And he’s okay with it.

  Which means, so am I.

  After lunch, Mason, now the sole, legal custodial parent of Baby Drew, prepares to take his son home.

  Mom promises to email him a list of nanny recommendations. Mason and I exchange phone numbers, then he says his goodbyes to my parents, and my brother and his friend.

  Then I walk them out to the car and watch as Mason carefully buckles his newborn into the car seat.

  Drew is fast asleep again, and Mason fusses with the baby’s head, tilting it gently so that it leans comfortably on the padded armrest of the car seat.

  Awww! My heart gets all melty, watching this gorgeous hunk of a man care for his tiny newborn so tenderly.

  Not to mention…I can’t stop admiring Mason’s pecs, biceps and shoulders. They’re so shapely! His every movement shows off his well-defined muscles as they ripple under his skin.

  Yum.

  And his ass, as he bends into the car…? I’ve never seen such a squeezable pair of male buttocks.

  “Okay, I think we’re good. You sure you don’t want to come home with me right now?”

  I look up at his face. His words could be full of innuendo, but they’re not.

  His tone is casual, but I detect something in his eyes. In the way he’s standing. A tiny bit of…fear?

  Anxiety. The poor guy’s anxious. Of course he is! Taking care of a newborn is tough, demanding. Anyone would be nervous. It’s an unexpected situation, he’s doing it alone, and probably hasn’t got much sleep since the baby came home.

  My heart goes out to him.

  “I need to pack some things, get ready…you know.” I try to smile reassuringly.

  “Right. I know. Okay. Well, what time should I expect you?”

  “Well, what’s a good time for you?”

  “Right now,” he says, laughing.

  “Seriously, though. What time do you eat dinner? What time do you plan to bathe the baby and put him down?”

  “Um…ah…dinner’s usually, whenever I get hungry. I don’t have a set time to bathe or put Andrew to bed, either. Does it matter?” He grins sheepishly.

  “Well, kind of. I’ll come as soon as I’m ready. Maybe an hour? I’ll text you if anything changes. How’s that?”

  “Great! See you then.”

  Dad might be okay with my change of plans, but Mom is a different story.

  She held her peace while Mason was here, but as soon as I get back into the house, she pounces.

  “Samantha, what are you doing? All you’ve talked about since you got back from Vermont is having free time. Par-tay, par-tay!” She does a little dance, mimicking my enthusiasm. “Remember?”

  “Yes, I know, I know! But hey, you were awful quick to brag about my babysitting credentials.”

  “I’m proud of your credentials. It slipped out. I didn’t mean to push you into doing something you don’t want to.”

  I sigh. “You didn’t. It’s okay, never mind.”

  “But… you’re gonna skip Marie’s barn party tonight? The one that all her brothers are going to be at?”

  “Argh! Don’t remind me!”

  I go up to my room and start packing up some clothes. She follows right behind me.

  “Samantha? Do you know who Mason is?”

  “Yeah, he’s Dad’s client.”

  She leans against my doorjamb and crosses her arms. She’s looking at me like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop or something.

  “And…?”

  “And…he’s gorgeous?” I grin, and pull out two short babydoll nighties from my drawer. I stuff them into my bag, and then pull out two more and shove them in there, too.

  “He is gorgeous, isn’t he?” She smiles. “But you know that’s not what I mean…hey!” She suddenly notices what I’m doing. “I thought you were going to stay a couple days. Why do you need four nighties? And all those panties?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t you say I should always make sure I have plenty of clean underwear?”

  She laughs. “Yes, but, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

  “Probably. I don’t know!” I shrug and throw some t-shirts into the bag. “So…okay, Mom. I’ll bite. Mason told me that people know of him, but that he’s not f
amous. Not that I give a shit, but, did he invent the internet or something?”

  “No. He’s…he’s the only…” She stops, tilts her head, and purses her lips. “You know what? Never mind. On second thought, it’s a good thing that you don’t know.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. It makes no difference. He’s cute, yes. He needs help. It’s not like we’re getting married, Mom. And he’s not Jack the Ripper. That’s all I care about.”

  “True. Well, you can always ask him yourself. You’ll have to, if you want to know. There’s probably nothing to Google about Mason Grimmell.” She pauses, looking at me as if I should know who she’s talking about. I shrug, spreading my hands. “What I meant was, the fact that you don’t know who he is, means that you’re doing this out of kindness and not um, ah…self-consideration.”

  “Well, it’s a sad situation and he seems like a decent guy. But there’s definitely some self-consideration. I’ll get paid double-time and a bonus! And, he’s not hard to look at.” I smile. “Besides, Dad’s totally cool with it.”

  She smiles like she knows a secret, which, she apparently does. “Yes, your father’s known him since…well, for many years. I’ve met him quite a few times too. Mason is a decent guy. He’s trustworthy and discreet. He’ll take good care of you while you’re there.”

  I gather my toiletries and finish packing, then change into yoga pants and t-shirt.

  “All that aside…maybe there’s something else that needs to be said.” She hesitates, looking at me speculatively.

  “What?”

  “Just that…this isn’t a situation to take lightly. You wouldn’t want to start something that can’t go anywhere. He’s a lot older than you are, for one thing.”

  “Really? How old is he?”

  “He’s thirty-five. But he doesn’t look it, does he? Honey, he’s a grown man with serious responsibilities.” She pauses, puts her hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “Listen. It’d be a bad idea to lead him on, or to get too attached to that baby.”

  “Mom! I’m just babysitting, helping out for a few days.”

  “Samantha.” She’s speaking kindly but firmly, like she does when she wants to make sure I’m listening. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not saying you’re doing anything wrong, I’m just saying…there’s a child involved.”

  “You’re reading too much into this. Yes, he’s good-looking but, I just feel sorry for him. Plus, it’s extra money.”

  “He’s lonely, good-looking, decent and a single dad. And you’re a lovely young woman with a good heart who wants to help. I’m just saying, be careful. Don’t start something that all three of you might regret.”

  “All three of us? Andrew’s a newborn. He won’t remember me a month from now.”

  “No, but you’ll remember him.”

  Four

  Mom drives me to Mason’s, not saying much. I try to assure her that I don’t want to get involved with an older man, especially not one with a newborn.

  I love babies but no way in hell am I ready to deal with one on a permanent basis.

  She just listens, nodding, but the look on her face still says she knows something that I don’t.

  In Mason’s driveway, I hug and kiss her and thank her for the ride. She tells me not to hesitate to call her if we need help, night or day.

  Mason’s house is out in the country, very rural, in a nice secluded spot with no close neighbors.

  It’s a large, new home, a rambling, ranch-style bungalow on a big lot. It’s a nice size, but it’s not a pretentious McMansion. It’s at the end of a long, private driveway.

  Any client of my dad’s is bound to have money. If this place is anything to judge by, Mason’s doing okay. Maybe not on a level with Bill Gates, but that’s fine by me.

  It’s a peaceful spot, lots of trees and birds, almost no traffic on the road. A nice place to raise kids.

  The soft sound of lullaby music is coming from behind the house.

  “Hello? Back here,” Mason’s voice calls out.

  Following the sounds, I go around the corner of the house and stop to take it in.

  The driveway continues for maybe fifty feet before ending in a enormous, detached, two-story garage. The roof of the garage bristles with antennae and the structure boasts four roll-up doors. It’s big enough to house an impressive car collection.

  Or maybe, the Bat Cave, I think to myself.

  To my right, there’s a big patio, set away from the house, with a fire pit, benches, comfy chairs, a water feature and a gazebo strung with lights.

  Attached to the house is big deck, which holds a huge grill under a rain-roof, conveniently placed close to the sliding doors leading inside. The deck has lots of seating, including built-in benches with outdoor cushions, punctuated by small built-in tables for drinks or whatever.

  A lush green lawn rolls away from the house. Old-growth trees and saplings alike grow nicely spaced apart. Shady spots are dotted with benches, and little paved paths meander here and there.

  The lawn is bracketed by garden beds coming into summer bloom, home to annual and perennial flowers and plants proudly displaying their colors.

  Far in the distance, a line of trees forms what’s probably the back border of the property line. A very large multi-acreage property, by the looks of it.

  It’s a stunning place, secluded and lovely. Wryly, I think to myself that it makes my parent’s home look kind of cheap in comparison.

  “Hi. I heard the car,” says Mason.

  He’s lying in a shady hammock strung between two trees. Baby Andrew lays belly-down on his father’s chest, eyes open, staring at his fist again in apparent wonderment.

  There’s a blanket on the grass, and the diaper bag sits next to that.

  Mason’s phone is open beside him, playing a YouTube lullaby video. Both his hands are on the baby, holding him in place, rubbing the child’s back in time to the music.

  “Hi,” I say. “Wow, this is…what a nice place. Seems like a large property, too. Is that the property line way down there, by those trees?”

  “Actually, I own the land pretty much as far as the eye can see. It’s mostly undeveloped, except for some hiking and ATV trails through the forested areas.”

  He motions with his chin and I turn to look at the leafy canopy of trees in the distance. “There’s hundreds of acres of sensitive environments that I don’t allow anyone to step foot on. All kinds of wildlife. Deer, turkey, spotted owls and various other birds. Endangered reptiles and amphibians live in wetlands back there, too.”

  “Hundreds of acres, all to yourself? It’s beautiful, Mason. And no wonder it’s so quiet.” I gesture at the house. “And this house…it looks like an entertainer’s dream.”

  “Thanks. I…yeah, it’s a bit much, actually. I went with some existing plans the builder had. I don’t know how much entertaining I’ll be doing, quite honestly.”

  “Well, you could rent it out for weddings or bar mitzvahs or, or…symphony orchestra concerts,” I say. We both laugh. I look down at the two of them, swaying gently in the hammock. “Did you know he’s awake?”

  “He is?” Mason glances down before smiling back up at me. “He’s so quiet, I thought he was still asleep. I guess maybe he likes this music.”

  “And the rocking. And the sound of your heartbeat. All babies like that. Hell, I’d like it myself.”

  I grin down at him cheekily. He grins right back.

  But the baby starts moving now, his bottom sticking up and his little face turning red. He grunts a couple times, and I start laughing as I realize what’s going on.

  “What?” Mason says. “He can’t be hungry again already?”

  “Oh, he could be,” I say, “but I think he just pooped.”

  “Ugh, geez. Did I mention, he does that. A lot,” Mason snorts. “Well, let’s take him inside and deal with it.”

  “Here, give him to me,” I say, holding my hands out. “I haven’t even held him yet.”

  I ta
ke the baby, cradling and supporting his head, feeling that rush of tenderness that holding a tiny helpless newborn always brings.

  Then I watch as Mason struggles out of the hammock, grunting comically.

  “Shit, I forgot that it’s a lot easier getting into that thing than it is to get out of it,” he remarks. “I should’ve thought of that before I laid down in it with a baby in my arms.”

  “Good thing I was here to take him,” I say.

  “Good thing you’re here, period,” he says. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  We go straight through the house to a large master bedroom. It’s a little messy, with an unmade king-sized bed and clothes, shoes, personal and baby items. Lots of empty cartons and boxes are strewn around.

  In a window-filled alcove on the far side of the room, there sits a long desk, holding three monitors and computer equipment. The screens are all blank, turned off or in sleep mode at the moment.

  Against one wall next to the bed, there’s a changing table, a bassinet, and a bunch of brand-new, unopened packages of diapers, baby clothing, toys and assorted stuff.

  “Sorry about the mess,” Mason says. “I ordered some stuff online and…what with the baby and all, I haven’t had time to tidy up much.”

  “It’s not that bad. Is your housekeeper off today?”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t work weekends. She’s not allowed in my room anyway. I clean that and my bathroom myself.” He pauses. “I mean, when I feel like it. I’m not gonna say I clean my room every day or anything.”

  “Okay. Let’s get the baby changed and then you can show me around.”

  Mason takes the baby out of my hands and lays him on the change table. As soon as he gets the onesie off, he makes a gagging sound. “Oh God,” he says. “I’m not used to this yet.”

  “Do you want me to….”

  “Nope! No, thank you. I have to get used to it. You’ll do your share soon enough. But right now, I gotta do this.”

  I watch, amused, as Mason turns his head, takes a breath, holds it, then removes the diaper.

  He looks so comical, I can’t help but giggle. He gives me a chagrined look, then wraps the soiled diaper up and chucks it into the nearby diaper bin, letting his breath out.