Pulling his truck into the community parking lot, Shay searched for Unit 204. Hitching the brake and cutting the engine, he walked up the sidewalk, the landscape sprinklers sending drops of water around his feet, as the sounds of crickets filled the calm fall night. Trotting up the steps he stopped at the first door on the right. He’d never been to Charlotte’s place before. Never had a reason to, but the gated development overlooking a lake with a fountain and a community pool didn’t seem her style. He had always pictured her more in uptown or Upper King’s art district. Tapping his knuckle lightly on the door, he looked around. Maybe he should have just given the glasses to Myles. Things hadn’t ended on the best note the last time he had seen her when she went barreling out of his house. Hearing the lock unclick, Whitney opened the green door quickly, the wind blowing through the hallway picking up pieces of her hair draped across her forehead, her caramel eyes widening.
Yeah. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea.
Looking past him with Quinn in her arms, she looked around before looking up at him again. “Hi.”
Her thick auburn hair thrown on top of her head, she bounced Quinn back and forth, her bright sweats the only color inside the doorway. Glancing down at Quinn, his heart pounded. Dark hair filling her small head, she looked like a completely different kid than the one he had seen a few months ago. “Just came by to drop these off,” he said holding up her glasses. “You left them behind on Saturday.”
Her eyes speeding between him and the glasses, the air conditioning unit in the open hallway was the only sound between them. Looking past him again, he followed her eyes. Was she expecting someone? Letting out a loud cry, she jumped looking at Quinn.
“Okay,” she stuttered. “Here. Come in, I’m sorry,” she apologized letting him inside. Closing the door, she rushed past him grabbing things off the couch and table as she made her way to the kitchen. Ignoring the way her ass swayed in those sweatpants, he focused on the baby on her hip now wailing. “Please, excuse the mess,” she bent down grabbing something else off the floor, “Charlotte isn’t the tidiest roommate.”
Glancing around the small condo, baby gear he had seen a time or two at his parents’ house from all his nieces and nephews took up most of the space. Looking at a cluster of photos on the wall beside him, they were mostly pictures of Whitney and Charlotte as kids. A dark-haired little girl with a wide smile leaning against the playground pole sweetly which he assumed was Whitney, as a bright, curly haired blonde girl hung upside down on the monkey bars sticking her tongue out, he figured to be Charlotte. He knew enough about the two of them to know it was a true testament to their personalities. Moving to the picture beside it, the two of them sat off the side of a wooden dock over a lake, barefoot with popsicles. The last one, the two of them decked out head to toe in LSU gear.
“Tigers fan, eh?” he nodded towards the picture of them and another girl looking like a mixture between the both of them jumping in the air on the field. Whitney looked young.
“I’m sorry?” she asked over Quinn’s screams, turning as bottles fell from the cabinet above her.
Shooting into the small kitchen, if it could even be considered that, he grabbed a few bottles bouncing off the floor and counter.
“Shhhhh,” she bounced Quinn gently. “Here, grab that one,” she pointed to a wide bottle. “Please.”
Picking it up, he handed it to her ignoring how warm her hands were. Collecting the rest of the pieces, he placed them on the counter. Damn, how much did this kid eat? Judging by her round cheeks, where he assumed she stored most of the milk, he’d guess a lot. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed a small bag shutting the door with one arm.
“It’s okay baby girl,” she soothed, running the bag under water over the sink. He should have been doing something else to help her, but she was fascinating to watch. She moved like a dancer across the kitchen floor. So smooth and effortless.
“Can you take that clear piece and pop it through the top of that yellow cap?” she jerked her chin towards the counter. “Please?”
Looking back at her, she nodded in encouragement. Grabbing the pieces he fumbled with the two parts as Quinn shrieked again. Placing the bottle next to her, he watched her open the bag with one hand filling it up.
“Now put the lid on,” she ordered, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. “Please.”
Doing as he was told quickly, he handed her the bottle again.
“Heeeere, suga,” she cooed, placing the bottle inside Quinn’s mouth as she gulped it down, her crying stopping immediately. Smiling, Whitney’s eyes rested on Quinn. “There you go. All better.”
Quiet sounds coming from the television and Quinn going to town on that bottle, he smirked watching her. She was beautiful. Small features and powerful brown eyes, so much like Whitney.
Smiling again, Whitney looked up at him, “Thank you.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Watching Quinn again, they both were quiet another moment. Swaying gently, Whitney hummed quietly and he recognized that look. It was a look of utter bliss. He had seen it the moment they had placed Quinn in her arms at the hospital. As if her entire world was resting in her arms chugging a bottle better than any frat guy he’d ever seen. He didn’t get it. The whole maternal bliss thing. But even he had to admit, it was pretty powerful.
“You really didn’t have to drive all the way out here to drop those off,” she said finally, continuing to sway Quinn back and forth. Interrupting his steady gaze on Quinn, he blinked back at her.
Shit. The glasses.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he lied.
Her mouth pulling up on the one side she looked down at Quinn before her head jerked up. “I am so sorry,” she cried out. “Where are my manners? Did you want anything to drink? Sweet tea? Some water? I think Charlotte actually managed to make lemonade earlier,” she said, charting off towards the refrigerator. Four years of playing in the South, he was attuned to a southern woman. Hospitality at any cost, despite feeding a child in her arms. He wasn’t thirsty, but maybe staying another minute wouldn’t suck.
“Tea’s good.”
Reaching for the cabinet, her bare feet strained on her tip toes and he wondered how long it was going to take before she realized she had a baby in her arms.
“Here,” she ordered quickly sliding Quinn into his arms before he had a chance to protest.
“Whoa. Whoa. Yeah, no.” Stiffening, the bottle fell out of Quinn’s mouth, her whimpers beginning again. He had only ever held his nieces and nephews before, and he wasn’t even sure he had held all of them. And even so, they had always been sleeping. Never moving and certainly never crying.
“For cryin’ out loud,” she giggled, moving his arm down and tilting the bottle upwards. Raising her brow for him to take the bottle, Quinn went to town on the milk again, her large cheeks expanding and contracting.
Alright, maybe it wasn’t horrible. He had footballs thrown at him at nearly ninety miles an hour on a daily basis. He could handle this. Without a word, Whitney glided across the kitchen floor again pouring two glasses of sweet tea. He bet she was tired. Taking care of a baby all day and probably working too. Looking over at the kitchen table, papers stacked across the computer, she had definitely been working. She looked cute. Comfortable. Sliding the sweet tea across the counter in front of him, she smiled, leaning in to look over at Quinn, giving him a clear vision of her cleavage. Damn those were some titti-
“-You didn’t have to come all the way out here, really. But I do appreciate it.”
Forcing his eyes to her face, he cleared his throat looking down at Quinn again. He had crossed some lines in his time. Had done some things that even he would never repeat. But appreciating a woman’s tits - no correction, a mother’s tits while holding her child was low. Even for him.
“Again, not a problem.”
Keeping his eyes on Quinn where it was safe, she pushed the bottle out of her mouth, bubbles dripping down her chin. Handing W
hitney the bottle, she wiped Quinn’s mouth with a cloth smiling again. The kid looked exactly how he felt after eating his weight in his mother’s cooking.
“She’s comfortable with you.”
He doubted that, but she sure was a cute kid. He still couldn’t believe that he had watched her come into this world. A memory equal parts cool as hell and one he wanted out of his head. “She’s a pretty cool, kid,” he decided. “You did good.”
Her cheeks flushing, she smiled again. That damn smile. Big and sweet and genuine. Like everything that was good in the world wrapped into one small gesture. She had hit him with it a few times before, each time feeling like another blow to the gut. Looking down at Quinn grunting, he watched her make a weird face before the feeling of warm milk splashed across his neck, vomit hitting his chest.
“Ooooh!”
Running around the kitchen counter, Whitney grabbed a burp cloth ready to wipe away the throw up now dripping down Shay’s chest, not quite sure where to start.
“The fuck?!” Shay called out, milk running down the front of his shirt.
“Oh my gosh.” She panicked taking Quinn carefully from his arms, milk falling off both of them. Without hesitating, she placed Quinn on the floor. “Shay,” she cried, peeling the small clothes off Quinn’s damp body. “I am so sorry.”
Oh gosh what a mess.
Looking over her shoulder, the front of him covered in milk, she watched him brush off the excess from his shirt. Wiping Quinn’s neck, she grabbed another onesie, putting it over her head, snapping the buttons on the bottom quickly. Picking her up, she placed her inside her swing grabbing another cloth for Shay. Turning around she watched one hand disappear behind his back before stripping off the soaked shirt in one fluid movement.
Oh Sweet Jesus.
Her heart speeding up, she clenched the small cloth against her stomach. Watching him roll up the shirt, he placed it on the counter, her eyes fixated on his stomach. She had never seen abs like that before; the defined ridges scrolling down the trim planes of his stomach. She didn’t have to touch him to know that he was built like a wall. All skin and ample muscle. A tattoo decorating his chest, looked Celtic and she knew she had seen the design before, but wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. Trailing her eyes past the base of his throat she met his blue eyes concentrating on her.
Say something!
“I….I am so sorry,” she stuttered rushing past him to the laundry room off the kitchen. It had been a long time since she had been so close to a half-naked man. And not just any man. An athletic life force. “I think I saw one of Myles’s shirts laying around here somewhere,” she swallowed back sifting through the pile of Charlotte’s clothes that never got put away. Looking through the sea of pink, white and black, her hands shook. It wasn’t enough that she couldn’t get that gosh darn smirk out of her head since the party Saturday night, but now she knew what was lying beneath the clothing.
That chest.
And those abs.
Grabbing the Nike shirt, she turned around smacking into the said chest. Her lips barely skimming the muscles that flexed from her impact, she lifted her eyes up into a set of deep blue eyes. Blue eyes she remembered being so patient and strong inside the delivery room. Ones filled with fear when he had found her curled up into a ball. And ones that she needed to steer clear of.
“Here,” she breathed, her voice hoarse.
Shay was silent and she swore she could feel the heat rolling off his body. What was it about this man that got to her? Was she that desperate? Or just that humiliated? She hoped for the latter. Quinn’s giggles sounded off between them and she took that chance to look away. Shay Cunningham was a playboy. And the last thing she needed in her life was a man who looked good enough to be her next big mistake. Slipping the shirt from her hands carefully, he grinned not moving an inch, his eyes following her as she made her way back to the counter. Standing at the sink, she turned on the water running her hands beneath the cool water, allowing it to run over her pounding pulse. She could feel Shay’s eyes on her, leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and the laundry room. “Shay, I’m really sorr-”
“-Did anyone ever tell you that you apologize too much?”
No. She had been raised on shame. She grew up apologizing for everything that she did. Even things she wasn’t responsible for.
“Besides, she isn’t the first girl to throw up on me.” The corners of his mouth picked up. And somehow she doubted that.
“So,” she stammered again, her accent thickening. She hated when her voice pitched high, a clear hint that she was nervous. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
Really? That’s the best you could come up with?
His grin spreading further, he slipped his arms inside the black t-shirt. Wiping her hands, she watched the contraction of each muscle as he slipped it over his head.
“Headed home,” he admitted, running his hands through his sandy blonde hair. Chewing her lip, Quinn’s giggles continued to fill the small kitchen.
“And where is home?” she asked, trying to steady herself, failing miserably.
“Fayetteville.”
Crossing his long arms, the tattoo she had seen a few times scripted down the inside of his wide forearm.
Veni, Vidi, Vici.
She wondered what it meant. Knowing him, probably something like I’m hot, I know it, and you know it too.
“West Virginia.”
She never figured him for a rugged mountain man. A midwestern boy, maybe, despite his California boyish looks. His deep blue eyes, blonde hair and foreign drawl mixed with a southern twang, she guessed it made sense. He was resilient, but in a beautiful way.
“And you?” he asked his eyes heavy with humor.
“Here,” she said quickly. Too quickly, before taking a sip of tea to clear her throat.
“As in staying here with Charlotte? I thought she was going back to Cincinnati with Myles for the weekend?”
Oh right.
It hadn’t been enough that her child had gotten spontaneously ill all over him, but now she had to share just how pathetic she was that she had nobody to spend the holiday with? And she couldn’t help but wonder when being humiliated in front of him was finally going to end.
“Yes, she is,” she drawled out, busying her hands across the counter. She didn’t want anybody’s sympathy, least of all Shay’s. Yes, her parents were jet setting off to Mexico and her former fiancé was God knows where, the thought of Adam accelerating her heartrate. After nearly threatening Charlotte to go meet Myles’s family, she realized it was just going to be her and Quinn for Thanksgiving. Which wasn’t a big deal, she supposed. She was more of a Christmas person anyway. Although growing up in a high society home where over the top décor and gourmet food trumped any kind of tradition, she longed for better for Quinn. For them to make their own sweet traditions. Holidays that were cozy and warm and filled with family. She thought she had a shot at that once. But she had been wrong. “Just me and baby girl.”
Forcing a smile, she tried to hide the disappointment. She’d make it up to Quinn. One day. Her grandmaw had always said, “It’s not how you start, it’s how you finish” and she wanted to believe that she would find someone to start all those warm and precious traditions with. Someone to become a family with. Maybe one day, just not today.
“So let me get this straight.” Shay crossed his arms, standing up straighter. “You’re going to spend Thanksgiving here. Alone. With nobody?”
Well, it sounded a lot worse when he said it like that.
“It’s no big deal, really,” she waved him off, hoping some forced bravado would shine through. She didn’t need anybody feeling sorry for her and she surely wasn’t going to have anybody stay behind on her behalf. “We’ll be fine.”
Watching Whitney wipe the same spot on the counter over and over, Shay could tell she was full of shit. He assumed things had been screwed up since Adam had bolted and he wouldn’t press that, but what about h
er family? Picking Quinn up from her swing he watched her kiss her round cheeks, her face brightening. The hell if he knew what it was, but the thought of the two of them being alone on Thanksgiving wasn’t sitting well. At all.
“Come home with me,” he ordered, the words coming out before he had a chance to stop them. He really needed to work on that. Freezing with Quinn mid-air, she glanced over at him, her brown eyes wide. Looking at him as if he had lost his damn mind, she lowered Quinn back into her arms, looking as surprised as he felt.
“Excuse me?”
“Come home with me for Thanksgiving.”
Most people assumed he was nothing more than an arrogant ass, but he wasn’t a total monster. He had a heart. Somewhere. Either that or he really had lost his damn mind.
“We’ll be fine,” she laughed him off, resting her full lips against Quinn’s black hair. “Thank you.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“Watch your language,” she corrected. “And really, we are fine.”
“Then tell me, what is it you’re going to do here all by yourself?” he asked, motioning around the small room.
Picking up a blanket off the back of the couch she turned her back trying to avoid him. “Well if you must know, we have dinner with Liv and Jax and the twins.”
Bullshit.
“The Monaghan’s are headed to Virginia to visit Liv’s mama,” he said, thoroughly amused.
Working her lip, her eyes darted between him and counter. “I meant Chelsea and Trevor’s,” she said quickly. “We’re having dinner with Chelsea and Trevor.”
Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series) Page 6