by Shey Stahl
Haisley searches my eyes and just when I have hope she’ll let me go back to sleep, behind her head a tiny hand comes up on the edge of the bed, and then another, and fists the sheets. Chubby baby hands yank as hard as they can and an auburn-haired munchkin grins like I’m her favorite person ever.
“Hi!”
See? I’m her favorite fucking person ever. Haisley laughs as Nalani uses her to crawl on my bed and then sits on my face, with a soggy diaper. And then for good measure, she lifts up and then plops her butt down again. “Eat? We eat? I eat?”
She’s certainly talking more than she did a few days ago, isn’t she? Did you catch everything she said? It’s like listening to someone read off a telegram.
Hopefully there’s some leftover food from yesterday because we certainly established they don’t like eggs or protein shakes. And Adler finished off the Chinese food last night.
Tickling Nalani’s sides, I slide her off my face. “You smell.”
“I can help.” Haisley slides off the bed. “I’ll go get the diaper.”
I’m left alone with Nalani, who takes the bear and hits me in the face with it. “Ouchy?”
Rubbing my eye, I scowl at her. “Yes, ouch. Don’t hit.”
She’s like one of those weasel balls that hit the wall, then redirect themselves someplace else without missing a beat. Two-year-olds are the same. Look at her now. She’s climbing onto my headboard. Still lying down, I shake my head and keep one hand on her pajamas. “What’s with you and climbing?”
She looks down at me. “Wet. Yucky. Wet. Ewww.” It’s like she’s talking in toddler slang and can only communicate with one word at a time. It reminds me of when I had a concussion and for three weeks, I couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone. Frustrated as fuck, I resorted to handwritten notes and text messages because it was something similar to playing Charades and you’re the only one playing. Naturally, I freaked the fuck out, but I can only imagine the frustration this kid has when she can’t communicate what she needs.
Prying Nalani off the headboard, I sit up and lay her down on the bed. So far, she’s been good about me changing her, but today, she has a look in her eyes I’m not too sure about. She looks like she’s about to tell me off, doesn’t she?
I used to be horrified at the idea of smelling a kid’s diaper, but now I totally get it. It’s like watching game highlights from another team in order to prepare for their defense. Smelling what I’m dealing with before I have to actually deal with it gives me an advantage. Also, while we’re on the topic, aren’t you proud I can change a diaper? If that doesn’t scream “he’s finally getting this” I don’t know what will.
Stupidly, like she’s going to have a conversation with me, I ask, “What are you up to?”
I’m given a smile. One that could be deciphered as, dude, you’re about to go down.
Haisley bounces back into the room with a diaper in one hand and a box of wipes in the other. “I got the stuff.” With a flying leap, she barrels onto the bed.
Drawing in a deep breath, I try to prepare myself for it. Given Nalani’s disposition, and her climbing, do you think she stays still for diaper changes? Exactly. Not a goddamn chance.
Marley enters my room next. It’s like my room has recently become the commons at a college campus. “Can I try Starbucks today?”
Sensing my opening, I pause, my hands on Nalani’s pajamas and I look up at Marley. “I’ll buy you Starbucks right now if you change her diaper for me?” Do you hear the begging in my tone? She does too and laughs. Actually fucking laughs.
“No way.” Do you notice the smile? It’s like she’s testing me, waiting to see how much I’ll give to have her do this. “You do it. You’re the grown up.”
With my own teenage attitude, which screams screw you, I don’t need your help, I take the diaper, set it beside Nalani and then reach for the wipes to put them within reach. It’s like a snap play and at a moment’s notice, you have to be ready to either throw the ball, or hand it off. If that doesn’t work, you gotta run with the ball and dodge the defense. The defense in this scenario being an acrobatic two-year-old.
Can you see the fear in my eyes? Do you notice the tense shoulders and shaky movements? That’s a man who’s scared of a child. So while I’m able to get her pajamas off with no problem, it’s when I reach for the tabs on the diaper that her eyes lock on mine. I can’t be sure, but I think I see the fear in mine reflecting back at me.
It happens in a split second and I blame Adler for this because he’s the one who walks in and distracts me just as I undo the tabs. One moment I’m in control and the next the baby has flipped herself over, shit covering her ass and she’s crawling away from me. I try to catch her before she gets it everywhere, but all that does is get it all over my hands and my bed and Haisley beside me who keeps yelling, “No, Lani! Stop.”
Adler makes a gagging noise. “I’m going to be sick.”
What a pussy. I have to admit, I’m there too though. The smell of baby shit is properly right up there with the smell of steamed broccoli for me. Both equally revolting.
The next few seconds are like the final play in a tied game and you’ve just thrown a Hail Mary and hoping your wide receiver catches it.
In my case, it’d be an interception because the dejection is the same when you see your three-thousand-dollar sheets covered in kid shit and she’s cackling and laughing like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done.
Adler covers his nose. “I hope you have a maid.”
Nalani’s at the end of the bed getting ready to plummet over the side, and I do not, under any circumstances, want this kid running around my condo naked with shit covering her. So, without thinking, I lunge for her leg and catch her by the ankle. Can you guess where the problem lies in my lunge?
If you’re paying attention, you noticed I didn’t have time to move the soiled diaper. Take a shot in the dark here and guess what’s on my chest now?
Yep. I can literally feel it soaking through my shirt. And you know, while we’re at it, I’ve never understood the expression fuck my life—and up until now—I have never found a reason to say it. No matter how bad it gets, it’ll always get better. Only now, I’m tempted to think, how can this get better?
It doesn’t. Least not right away because that carpet I was trying to protect is now covered in puke. Thank you, Adler.
Have you seen that movie Zoolander? Okay, great. Now do you remember that scene where they’re all running around and shit is insane and Will Ferrell stands up and he’s like, “I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!”
That’s me. I feel like I’ve ingested the entire goddamn bottle at what’s happening in my bedroom.
I lift my eyes to his, then shake my head, scowling. I don’t get up. I’m almost afraid to. “Jesus, dude, really?”
Adler shrugs. “I’m sorry,” he whines, wiping his mouth. “I ate too much last night.” And then his eyes widen like he can’t believe he did that.
“He’s in his bed,” I hear Braylee tell someone.
Can you take a guess who enters the room next and sees me lying on my bed with shit everywhere and puke three feet from the door?
Ember.
Awesome huh? Let’s face it, she’s caught me in worse situations. Like the time I had the stomach flu and shit myself. I won’t even go into details on that one. It’s not needed.
“Holy. Shit,” Ember mumbles, then slaps her hand over her mouth when she notices the five sets of curious eyes staring at her. “Sorry.”
Pulling Nalani back toward me, I sit the smelly girl up on my knees so she can’t escape. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some cleaning to do.”
Laughter erupts behind me and then, “He has it in his hair.”
I walk past everyone with the naked baby in my arms, step over the puke and into the bathroom across the hall with Nalani.
Once in the bathroom, I strip off my shirt, toss it in the garbage, but then I leave my shorts on and step into the sh
ower.
“I can’t believe you,” I tell Nalani, squirting soap on us.
Soapy hands find my cheeks. “Bubbles!”
And though this isn’t how I wanted to start my morning, her smile tugs at something deep inside I didn’t know was there, but I can’t accurately describe. I’m not mad at her. I’m not ever mad at Adler. And that tells me I clearly got shit up my nose and it’s quickly infected my brain.
If you’ve never taken a shower with a two-year-old, you can’t truly understand the difficulty of this. It’s damn near fucking impossible. Slippery when wet is an understatement.
Turning off the shower, I set Nalani down, wrap a towel around her and yell for Marley to come and help me with her. The last thing I need this morning before 8:00 a.m. is another catastrophe and I fear if someone doesn’t grab her, the moment I turn my back to wipe down the shower walls, she’ll be up on the sink.
“Marley, help me out!”
“No!” she yells back. “You’re naked.”
I’m not though. There was no way in hell I was taking a shower with a child naked. Not only am I sure it’s illegal, but Kumonde also had a very unfortunate experience with his daughter Kalana who was just over a year and they were showering together. She grabbed his fucking dick and yanked it. Awful, huh? Dude was in shock for a week like he’d been attacked by Freddie Krueger and couldn’t sleep at night. I shit you not, he had to take anxiety medicine for like a month. Now he showers alone, with a lock on the door.
Knowing this, I kept my shorts on. Seemed logical and safe. “I’m not naked. Come get her!”
Finally—after a minute of Nalani and me staring at each other—the door cracks open. “You better not be lying.” Marley warns, swinging it open.
“Why the hell would I lie?” I ask her as she cautiously steps into the room.
“Mar!” Nalani lunges for her, buck-ass naked.
And there I am, half-naked, a shower squeegee in hand and soaking fucking wet as Ember peeks her head in the door right behind Marley. “Landon, you have a—” And that’s where her words end. Falter actually. They stutter and fade away. Her eyes, they drift over bulging wet, defined muscles because yeah, I flexed. Do you notice the way her eyes linger on my cock? It’s probably because my shorts are clinging to the lower region rather snuggly and yeah, bigger when wet is a thing.
Marley chases after Nalani—who apparently finds being naked and running, a goddamn game—leaving Ember in the doorway to the bathroom. If you don’t know me by now, I can spot a hole in the defense when I see one and it’s there, clear as the day and standing right in front of me.
Reacting quicker than she can, I grab her by the wrist, yank her into the bathroom and shut the door. I have her trapped and do you see the look in her eyes?
Can you feel the heat radiating from mine?
My breathing picks up when her eyes dip to my chest. Mine do the same, taking in her milky white skin and the beautiful plump mounds of her breasts visible through the fitting low-cut black tank top she’s wearing. Tentatively, knowing she might push me away, I back her up against the closed door. Now I have her where I want her. I’m not the kind of man who will force a woman into doing anything. It’s far more rewarding seeing passion than fear.
And though annoyance is usually what I see when Ember looks at me, there’s also a distinct difference when a woman is pretending to not like you, and one who doesn’t want anything to do with you.
“What are you doing, Landon?” Her voice drips with desire. Turns out, she’s never been good at lying to me.
Actually, I’m the one dripping all over the marble floor, but that’s beside the point. Right now, she’s weak within my proximity to her.
I stare at her. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re trying to seduce me. Again.”
Do you notice the way she lets out a breath like it’s one she has to take to keep from sighing? I do. A smug smile of satisfaction tugs at my lips. “I don’t think there’s much seducing going on here. I think it’s more willingness on both parts, wouldn’t you agree?”
She shoves me back. Rather hard, too. She’s never gentle and I dig that about her. “No, I wouldn’t agree, asshole. Stop acting like a fool. We got a ton of shit to figure out today and you need to get to practice.”
I catch myself against the sink, still smiling, but then I slip on the water and land on my ass. I can’t say I’m complaining about my view either, because Ember from the floor up is fucking gorgeous. I wink at her. “Wanna join me?”
As you can probably guess, she rolls her eyes. “Get up.”
Standing, I step closer. “Why are you so mean to me?”
“I’m not that mean.” Again, her words falter as she takes in my body, unashamed by her blatant pass over me. “But again, I have to ask myself every day I work for you, what’s in it for me?”
“Money.” I snort. “I pay you.”
“It’s not money that I want.”
My eyes light up. “Sex?”
Rolling her eyes, her shoulders slump. “No, not sex either.”
Ah, then it must be her art. I fully support Ember’s desire to have her art displayed in a gallery. In fact, all the paintings in my condo are ones I’ve bought from her. I can do whatever I want in this city—within reason. I did find out being drunk in public and doing a hundred and fifty on the Alaskan Way Viaduct earns you some hefty fines and a probation period. I was a bit reckless my rookie season. And don’t think this went without punishment from the league. I was fined something like fifty thousand for that stunt. Since then, I do the speed limit and hardly ever drink.
You might be wondering what the point of that story was. Well, I can’t always get what I want. If I did, there’d be no traffic or speed limits and Ember’d be on my dick by now. But she’s not, and me convincing Westward Gallery to showcase her art hasn’t happened yet. Turns out there are two people in this world who are immune to my advances. Well, three if you count Harper, my PR rep. She doesn’t fall for any of my shit either. But Elliott’s sister, Mabel Madison, who owns Westward Gallery, she fucking hates me, and getting her to consider anything I suggest is damn near impossible. I haven’t exactly found my opening to pitch the idea of Ember’s paintings to her. Probably because of the restraining order she has against me, but whatever.
Licking my lips, I search Ember’s sky-blue eyes and step closer. “I tried talking to Mabel about getting your art in there, but she hates me. But since we’re negotiating again, let’s talk signing bonuses.”
“You need to stop bothering her about it. All I have to do is enter into the expo and get them to look at it. Stop trying to help. And I’ve worked for you for years. Signing bonuses are for people you’ve just signed through a draft.” Her eyes narrow, for good reason. “And who are we talking signing bonuses for, me or you?”
“Actually, you’re wrong. Signing bonuses can happen when you’re renegotiating a contract or extending one.” My lips pull into a full-blown smile. “And I’d like to think what I have planned would benefit both of us.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She shakes her head, but I don’t miss the smirk on her beautiful lips. She likes the idea of helping me and more importantly, I think she enjoys the idea of a signing bonus. One with me between her legs showing her just how good I really am. But then she throws my game off when she asks, “What we need to be talking about is what your plan is with them? You can’t keep them crammed in this condo with nothing to do. I mean, you don’t have a car in your fleet of exotic vehicles that will fit everyone.”
I shrug. “It’s a big condo.” I’m teasing as I know I need a bigger place.
“Not for girls in need of their own space. Get a freaking house.” She slaps at my shoulder. “Clearly you can afford it.”
I catch her hand and pull her closer so our chests are touching. “Are you going to help me?”
Her brow dips in disbelief. “Seriously, Landon. I swear to God, you can�
��t do anything for yourself.”
This is a constant argument between us. “I can do some things for myself, but it’s better when you do it. Find me a house and a car. Help me figure out what I need to do.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep. Use the card I gave you.” I gave Ember an American Express Black Card. The one with no limits. If that doesn’t proclaim trust in her, I don’t know what will. “Car needs to fit seven. Them and us.” Like how I add the us part? Sure, she rolls her eyes, but there’s that flush to her cheeks again. “And a good size back seat would be nice. And the house… at least eight bedrooms. Or nine. The little one might need a hazmat room for diaper changes. A guest house would be nice too, and a pool. That’s a must.”
Blowing out a breath, her shoulders slump forward. “This is crazy.”
I lean into her, my shoulder inches from her head. Dropping my head forward, I twist to the right. And wouldn’t you know it, my lips are mere inches from her beautifully marked neck. “I’m crazy about you,” I whisper, my breath blowing over her. “And at some point, we’re talking about Hawaii. I refuse to be friend-zoned.”
She’s affected. Fuck yeah, she is. And if I had to guess, she’s turned on. Or maybe it’s just me. With her hands on my chest, she pushes back to create some space. It’s just enough space that our eyes catch and lock. “Hawaii shouldn’t have happened. It was the wine and I’m not going to fuck you if that’s what this is all about.”
I shake my head slowly, my tongue sweeping over my bottom lip. “Hawaii wasn’t a mistake, and I bet I can convince you, too.”
“You’ve been trying for years and my answer is the same. This is one game you’re not going to win, LC.”
Fuck, it’s hot when she calls me by my nickname, but she’s wrong. I will win eventually. I always do. I may be in overtime before it happens, but I can always deliver when needed.
Belly – Running back runs the ball up the middle after taking the handoff from the quarterback with a reverse pivot.
Landon leaves for practice and I’m left alone with the kids. Not completely alone. Cat’s with us in Landon’s condo.