by Lex Martin
“Ash-hoo. Ash-hoo.” Bella grins up at us, and I smack Brady in the shoulder.
“Stop, or she’s going to sound worse than your biker bar friends.”
He rubs his arm, chuckling. “I don’t hang out at biker bars.”
I huff out a breath and deadpan, “Fine. Your strip club friends.”
He laughs. Thank God. “Try art-school friends.”
Realizing I’d better take advantage of the smiling guy in front of me before he turns into Mr. Moody Pants again, I motion toward the hallway. “All right, Picasso. Get your biker butt into the bathroom. And don’t forget the bubbles.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So you like bubbles.”
I mock punch him in the arm. “For the baby, perv.”
That grin widens. “Sure.” That dimple winks at me. “For the baby.”
11
Brady
I survey the mess in the bathroom. As I shift on the cold, wet tile, my knees protest. “Is this a nightly routine?” Please say no.
A gleam of humor flickers in Katherine’s eyes. “C’mon, tough guy. It’s just a little water.” But then she realizes she’s soaked from head to toe and she sighs. “Okay, it’s a lot of water. Can you watch her a sec while I change?” She shakes her head.
“Yup. I’ve got her.” I reach over to scoot the baby away from the faucet as Katherine’s footsteps fall away.
The tub is full of floating characters I’ve never heard of until now. Guess I’d better learn.
Katherine returns a minute later as I hold up a rather phallic-looking, bumpy pink guy with one eye. I glance back at her with a questioning look. “Really? This is what kids are playing with these days? It looks like a di—”
She covers my mouth with a finger and laughs. “Let’s not teach Bella any more new words tonight.” Her hand falls away. “That’s Dippy from Dippy and His Magical Kingdom, which I assure you is a family-friendly show. The music will make you insane, but kids love it.”
“He looks like a cock,” I mouth.
She shakes her head at me and does her best to hold back a laugh. She’s changed into a pair of yoga pants and a dark, long-sleeved Henley that hugs her slender curves. She’s not wearing any makeup, just those ridiculously sexy glasses that slip down her nose.
Employee. I repeat that to myself. You do not check out your employees.
Which reminds me. She needs to fill out a 1099.
As I blow bath bubbles at Izzy, the phone rings in the other room, and after making sure I’ve got the baby, Katherine trots off to answer it.
Izzy tips forward. “Whoa there,” I say, trying to reposition her. “You’re a slick little bugger when you’re wet.” She laughs, babbling away as she splashes around.
No lie, I’m going to have a goddamn heart attack. What if she topples over? What if she bangs her head on the tub? What if she knocks out one of those little teeth on the faucet? What if she inhales some water?
Wiping my forehead on my arm, I take a deep breath.
I don’t know how my parents can care for a one-year-old. Izzy is a great baby, but she’s constantly moving. I have no idea how Katherine keeps up with her, much less how my parents will be able to handle her.
A splash catches me in the eyes. “Nice aim, doll.”
Izzy giggles, and I smile even though I’m momentarily blind. Feeling around for a towel, I manage to knock over some bath soaps. Eventually, I give up and reach for the hem of my t-shirt and yank it up to dry my face.
Someone clears her throat, and I drop my shirt to catch Katherine standing there, lips parted, cheeks slightly flushed. Her eyes dip away, and she nods toward the other room. “That was one of our neighbors calling to check on us. Make sure we were okay. They do that around here. It’s kinda nice.”
“In Boston, you’re lucky if you don’t get run over. We’re called Massholes for a reason.”
She chuckles, placing a hand on me to scoot around and get the baby out of the tub. I try not to notice the warmth of her touch or how good she smells. I shouldn’t notice these things. But I do.
Moving out of the way, I study her smile. The soft pink hue of her full lips. The way she tilts her head like she’s embarrassed. How gentle she is with Izzy when she dries her off.
It’s been a long day. The girl must be exhausted—she was up long before I was—but she’s yet to complain. I have no idea how I’m going to afford her and her back wages, what she really should’ve gotten and not some measly hundred dollars a week, but I’ll figure out a way, even if it means selling the Harley.
As we head into the hall, she pauses. “I’ll write down Bella’s schedule for you and create a list of all of her favorite things, so you’ll have a cheat sheet.”
I nod, grateful. Because I am so not fucking prepared here.
In the nursery, she shows me how to put on the baby’s diaper, and after a little wrestling match, I finally get Izzy into her PJs.
I’m learning everything has a name in babyspeak. Onesie. Blankie. Binkie.
Binkie?
Yeah, that’s basically a portable nipple. Kids get all the cool stuff.
I kiss my niece’s chubby cheek and tug the zipper up on her Party In My Crib onesie. “This is nice, sweetheart, but I have a really cute onesie at home too.” Izzy laughs like she understands I’m being a goof.
Katherine smiles, looking like she’s ready to pass out.
“I can put Izzy to bed. Just tell me what I should do and you can knock out. I know you’re wiped.”
We were supposed to eat dinner together, but the girl looks like she’s barely standing.
She nibbles her plump bottom lip. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I need to take over Izzy’s schedule, and it’s good of you to give me some time to get situated, but I can do more. Soon, I’ll have to handle baby duty without your help anyway.”
Those big hazel eyes widen. She nods, not looking excited like I thought she would. She looks… upset. Like she did in the kitchen when she offered to leave so she wouldn’t be a financial burden.
“Hey, that doesn’t mean Izzy doesn’t need you.”
Her eyes well with tears that she blinks away. Damn. I didn’t mean to upset her more. Clearing her throat, she nods again. “Sorry. I’m not usually so emotional. Of course you want to be able to take care of your niece on your own. For when you guys move home.”
I open my mouth, to say what, I don’t know, but she starts backing out of the room. “I’ll put her bottle to warm in the kitchen. Give it five minutes, shake it, test it on your wrist and then you can give it to her.”
I take a step toward her, but she shakes her head. “That Elmo blanket in the crib is her favorite. Wrap her in it as you rock her. She’ll be asleep in about fifteen minutes. Help yourself to the casserole.”
“Katherine…”
She offers me a sad smile. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
Then she walks out, and I feel like an ass. Again.
12
Katherine
You’re so stupid. So, so stupid.
Objectively, I know Brady and Isabella are moving back to Boston. No one needs to tell me this. He said as much in the kitchen this evening. And I can’t even begin to consider what that means for Mel’s farm.
But you’d think I was one hundred percent clueless because when he said he wanted to take care of the baby himself, a little piece of my heart died.
This is good, I tell myself, trying to keep a stiff upper lip. I need a reminder that I’m not family. I’m no one. Not everyone will treat you like Mel.
Shaking my head, I decide I won’t go down this road. I won’t feel sorry for myself. This is about Mel and Cal and the baby. Not me.
I’ll help Brady as much as I can while I figure out what to do next. I need a plan. A real one. I applied to a few positions a few weeks ago, but I honestly don’t care about them. Right now, it’s hard to care about anything but Isabella and getting through the funerals.
I c
an hear what my parents will say. Wasn’t that the whole point of going to Melissa’s months ago? You still haven’t figured out what you’re doing with your life?
It hurts to think I’m a disappointment to them. I was supposed to be a lawyer or doctor. You’d think I’d stabbed someone in the aorta when I told them I was majoring in marketing and PR. But they made so many sacrifices to send me to college so I wouldn’t have to struggle like they did. We were dirt poor when I was little, and when I say dirt, I mean we literally had dirt floors because the places we stayed at weren’t exactly built by code.
A part of me realizes it’s all in my head, that my parents would welcome me with open arms, but going home feels like defeat. Because I’ve crashed and burned hard, and I just don’t know how to get back up again.
Closing my eyes, I curl up under the covers on my twin bed. My legs ache from standing all day. I’d kill to be able to afford a massage right now. Living in Austin spoiled me. Working on the senator’s campaign spoiled me. Company cars and smartphones. Travel accounts and hotels. Thousand-thread count sheets and down pillows at the best hotels. Yes, people actually live like that. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it firsthand.
I never would’ve gotten that job without Eric. The thought burns me a little. He bought me the clothes and showed me how to act around the muckety-mucks.
But I left all of that behind. I’m back to my t-shirts from Target, and I’m okay with that. Because this feels honest. Everything here is real—Isabella, the farm, the animals. They don’t play games, and they won’t hurt me.
After a few minutes, sleep overpowers me, and I drift off.
In the middle of the night, I get up for a drink of water and peek into Bella’s room to check on her only to find the crib empty. Shivering as I head to the office, I’m relieved when I find her fast asleep on her uncle’s chest where she’s sprawled out with one hand gripping a fistful of his black hair and another one smack dab in the middle of his face. And they’re both snoring.
Big, brooding tattooed biker snuggling his baby niece…
Well, that did the trick. I’m warm. All over.
It’s no contest. If Isabella was his, he’d be the hottest dad ever.
Once I finish cleaning the barn, I take a deep breath and head for the house.
My cheeks warm at the thought of facing Brady this morning. If I’m lucky, he and Bella are still sleeping.
A loud squeal from the kitchen squashes that thought. As I pass the box of kittens on the enclosed back porch, I peek in and find them snuggled against Bandit. A sleepy furry face peers up at me.
“I’ll grab your breakfast,” I whisper and pat his little head.
After washing my hands in the bathroom, I walk hesitantly into the kitchen. Isabella is seated in her high chair and is busy smashing slices of banana all over herself. I chuckle… until I look up and find Brady standing shirtless at the sink.
He’s only wearing some black track pants. Some thin track pants. I may have already seen him in his boxers, but seriously, this never gets old.
The ability to speak leaves me as my eyes travel up. A dark treasure trail. That v-cut leading to a six pack. More muscles. Tattoos. A knowing grin.
Shit.
“See something you like?” He smirks.
I force a bland expression despite the flush in my cheeks. “I usually wait until after breakfast to throw money at strippers, but if you can’t help but rip your clothes off around me, I can go look for some singles.”
He laughs so loudly, Isabella jumps in her seat.
Shaking his head, he turns back to the sink where I realize he’s washing off his shirt, likely another casualty from trying to feed the baby.
Calling over his shoulder, he says, “I didn’t know what you fed her in the morning, but I thought bananas and a handful of that baby mush stuff were a safe place to start.” He lifts a bottle from a container of water and turns toward me. “I assume she also gets one of these like she did at bedtime?” He shakes it, drips a few drops on his wrist and then licks it off. He definitely listened to my directions last night, except…
It’s my turn to laugh. “How’d that taste?”
“Not bad. I don’t know why I had the impression that formula tasted rank.”
“That’s not formula, Brady. That’s breast milk.”
He stiffens, his eyes wide with horror, before he leans over the sink and spits. After swishing some water in his mouth and spitting it out, he turns to me. “What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I snort. “I didn’t think you were gonna taste it.”
He runs his hands through his thick hair, which points in a million different directions. “Jesus Christ, Kat. You should warn a guy.”
“Sorry.” I grab my stomach, which hurts at this point because I’m still laughing.
“So it’s not…” He points at my chest. “This doesn’t belong to…” He starts waving the milk at me.
“No, weirdo. I’m not lactating.” I laugh harder.
Swear to God, his face turns red. “No, of course not. I just… I just… I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
I pat his hard bicep.
Focus, Katherine.
Peering up at him, I smile. “C’mon, muscles. Go put on some clothes so a girl can concentrate.”
Nudging him over, I pour two cups of coffee. His footsteps fall away as he heads back to the office. When he returns a minute later, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that molds to his body and makes those tattoos stand out even more.
Motioning toward the bottle, I explain. “That’s frozen breast milk I thawed yesterday. We have a few more days’ worth, but I’ve already started transitioning her to whole milk.” My voice falls to a whisper.
He nods solemnly, and I know he understands where the milk came from now. At first I feel guilty for laughing about it, but before I can fully freak out, I realize Mel would’ve thought it was hysterical too. She’d probably remind him about it for the next twenty years.
Realizing I have two coffees in my hand, I pour some cream into one and hand him his cup. He takes it gratefully. As he lifts it to his mouth, he pauses, looks in his mug and then back at me. “You made it for me.”
“Well, yeah. You take it with cream, right? Why would I hand you a cup of black coffee?” I tilt my head and look up at him. He has the strangest expression. “Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and place my hand on his forehead.
Mistake. Big mistake.
This close, I can smell his body wash or cologne or whatever it is that’s making my pulse riot. This close, I realize I come up to his chin, which is chiseled and scruffy and ridiculously rugged. This close, I realize just how lethally good-looking he is.
I yank my hand back, but before I can take a step away, my eyes lift to his mouth. His lips are parted, and he sucks in a breath. The urge to kiss him is so strong, my whole body throbs. His green eyes darken as he stares at my lips, and just when I think I’m going to spontaneously combust, the sound of a falling bowl makes us both jump. I turn to find that Isabella has tossed her baby food all over the floor.
Thank God for small mercies. I was two seconds from embarrassing myself. Seriously, what’s wrong with me?
I grab some washcloths and wipe down the mess. “Sorry about last night,” I blurt before I chicken out.
“For what? You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says gruffly. “I’m sorry I upset you. Here you are, working your ass off, and I hurt your feelings.”
I peek at him over my shoulder. He’s standing in front of the sink, bracing himself on the counter. His head is bent.
“Really. I’m fine. I got a good night’s sleep and feel better this morning.” Not true, but he doesn’t need to know that. I stand up to face him. “We’re cool. I promise.”
He turns around, his eyes soft.
Reaching for the baby, I brush her bangs out of her face. “I’ll do what I can to set you guys up so when you’re flying solo y
ou don’t crash and burn.”
He gives me a sad smile.
I motion toward Izzy’s bottle with a grin. “And I promise not to let you drink breast milk again.”
He grimaces but then a genuine smile breaks through. “That would be much appreciated.”
Desperate for something mundane to talk about to lighten the mood, my eyes land on the three bins along the opposite wall.
“Mm, before I forget, we recycle.” I point to the back of the kitchen. “I’ve color-coded and labeled everything, so even a Neanderthal can figure it out. I drop off the blue one at the recycling center every week. And we also have more green bins outside for leaves and tree limbs. But really, I’d love to learn how to compost.” Those last words come out slowly as I notice the expression on Brady’s face that’s etched in hard lines.
He arches a brow. “Are you calling me a Neanderthal? You know, just because I ride a motorcycle and sport some ink doesn’t mean I’m missing a frontal lobe.” His deep voice rumbles through me.
“What?” My eyes bulge. “No. God, no. I just... I mean... I’m so sorry if that’s what you thought I was saying. I would never think that. Ever.”
His deadly-serious expression suddenly morphs into a smile. “I’m kidding. But that was for letting me drink breast milk.”
I stare at him, my jaw slack. “Not. Funny.”
He laughs, pointing at me. “You should’ve seen your face.”
Pressing my hand to my chest, I will my heart to slow down. Calmate. “Okay, haha. Hysterical.”
That’s when I study his beaming smile. The way his eyes crinkle with amusement. That unfiltered laugh.
Holy smokes. That dimple.
Trapped by his gaze, I smile back like an idiot until the awkward silence is noticeable. Speak, Katherine. Say something. “So, um, I need to head to the grocery store to get a few things for Bella. My car is out of commission, and Mel always let me borrow her truck. Would it be okay if I use it?”
His expression turns serious again. “Why wouldn’t it be?”