Ouch. She knew Tag hadn’t meant his comment to be offensive, but like any woman, Olivia never appreciated hearing that she wasn’t attractive. Covering her surprise over practically being called dog meat by her baby’s father, she said, “I, um, know what you mean. I feel the same way about men.”
Tag rose to add another log to the fire. Sitting on the stone hearth, he said, “I’m not trying to be nosy, but would you mind telling me about the man who ruined you for all others?”
It took her a few moments to think up the best way to describe him. “You only needed one word to describe Maria, but for Phil, I’ll need five. Too. Good. To. Be. True. With him, I was blinded by love. Being with him was like breathing the rarefied air of a rock star. Something about him just made me feel special—at least until I caught him sleeping with my best friend.”
“That sucks,” Tag said by way of sympathy. “Guess she was getting those special tingles, too?”
“You’re horrible!” Olivia pitched a red throw pillow at him, but then couldn’t help but laugh. Actually laugh about something that for years had been dogging her every move. Phil’s betrayal had been incomprehensible. Getting over it was still a struggle.
“No, Phil was the horrible one. I mean, look at you. You’re a great catch. Pretty, successful, funny. He’s a fool.”
“Okay, wait. Just a minute ago you said I was—and I quote—nice-looking in your own way. Now my status is elevated to pretty?”
“Damn.” He winced and covered his face with his hands. “The second I said that, I knew it would come back to bite me. In more eloquent words, you’re actually seriously hot. But I didn’t want you getting the wrong idea.” Reddening, he added, “You know, like I’m planning to molest you, or something—like the closet circus freak you fear me to be.”
Laughing, she said, “Thanks. My apologies for being offended when you were only trying to keep from scaring me.”
“Apology accepted.”
From out of nowhere, Tag’s kind and funny words struck an emotional chord. It had been so long since she’d had outside confirmation that she was okay—better than okay. Somehow her friends and family support didn’t mean as much as that of a practical stranger sharing a quiet, chilly night with her. Only, Tag wasn’t a stranger anymore, but had become family. In a sense, through Flynn, she’d been living with Tag for months. A part of the man had grown inside her. The realization—the sheer intimacy of the fact—was so overwhelming she had to turn away.
“You all right?”
Eyes stinging, she nodded. For the first time in she couldn’t remember when, she was beyond all right. She was reunited with the sensation that despite having lost her first child, despite Phil having emotionally destroyed her, her life was going on. And it was beautiful.
“Want me to rough up this Phil for you? I’ve got two big brothers. Between us, we could teach him a serious lesson.”
Tag’s question was so outrageous, she found herself wishing for another pillow to throw. But once again she was laughing, and that felt so good. And oddly enough, she had no one but Tag to thank for that unexpected gift.
Chapter Seven
“Holy crap, woman,” Tag said the next day, surveying the mountain of food in their grocery cart, “how many days are you planning on staying out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m paid through Sunday.” She grabbed a box of crackers. “And if I have to eat one more egg or package of chips, I’ll go on a hunger strike.”
Flynn rode in his carrier, gnawing with his one tooth on the pink hippo Tag hated but his son seemed to love.
“We sure have a good-looking kid. I like his feet.”
“His feet?” Taking granola from a shelf, she eyed him funnily.
“Yeah, you know, how tiny they are. It’s like they’re not even real.”
Looking especially pretty as she paused to view their son, Olivia tied his tiny Nike laces. Tag still felt bad for that comment he’d made about her being just okay-looking, but thankfully, she seemed to have forgotten. “I confess I’m addicted to baby shoes. The other day I found him the cutest red high-top sneakers.”
“That sounds cool.” Much better than a pink hippo. “Next time you shop for him, can I go?”
“Sure.” Eyeing him, she asked, “You actually enjoy shopping?”
“Not usually, but looking for anything Flynn-related sounds like a good time.”
“It is. I’ll be sure to give you a call.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Selecting a bag of cheddar Goldfish for himself, Tag asked, “Does the resort cook real food during the high season?”
“Actually, yes. I stayed here with my firm a couple of years ago, but it was June. The food was home-style, stick-to-your-ribs delicious.”
Rubbing his stomach, he said, “I could go for some of my mom’s pot roast right about now.”
“Want me to make you a roast?”
“For real?” he asked, eyebrows raised. For whatever reason, he didn’t take her for the gourmet type. “You know how to cook?”
Hands on her hips, she scowled. “First you call me ugly, and now, without even tasting my food, you dis my kitchen skills? For that I’m thinking you don’t deserve a roast.”
“Hey! I never said you were ugly!” So much for her having forgotten his earlier observation on her looks. Time to pull out the big artillery. “What if I pay for all of the ingredients, and sign you up for a day at a spa when we get home?”
“Wow, all of that for one little roast? You’re forgiven.”
Together they gathered all the ingredients for dinner and plenty of fruit, healthy snacks, bottled water and diapers. By the time they loaded it all into Olivia’s car and clicked Flynn into his safety seat, Tag was pooped. “I need a nap.”
“That would be nice,” she said, yawning while backing out of the lot. “Your place or mine?”
“Seeing how you’re in the high-rent district,” Tag said, “I’ll take your couch.”
“Works for me.” The return trip to the lodge took twenty minutes. Unpacking the groceries and Flynn took another fifteen.
While Tag had been hauling, Olivia had been stowing everything away. For a vacation cabin, it had a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen when it came to pots and pans and utensils. Maybe they weren’t the first guests to prefer their own cooking.
Flynn launched into a wail.
“Want to handle it?” Olivia asked.
“He’s not hungry, is he?” Tag was prepared to handle anything fatherhood dished out, but breast-feeding might prove tough.
“Relax,” she said with an easy smile. “I’m guessing by his cry—and the faces he was making in the car—that he needs a new diaper.”
“I’m on it,” he said, confident in his abilities to handle Flynn’s crisis.
Famous last words…
With Olivia still in the kitchen, Tag stood in the bedroom in front of the makeshift changing table she’d assembled. With Flynn a screaming, flailing mess lying in front of him, Tag took a cautious approach. The leg snaps to his boy’s jeans were easily undone, but the diaper’s sticky tabs were seriously stuck.
Flynn cried all the harder.
“Hold on, little man,” Tag said through clenched teeth. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll have this under control.” After ripping off the diaper, resulting in a wet, smelly pile of material he wasn’t sure was even safe for his son to have on his body, Tag managed to pin a squirming Flynn with one hand while tossing the mangled diaper in the trash.
The baby’s wails could have shattered glass.
“Everything all right in there?” Olivia called out. “Need help?”
“Nope.” Though sweat had popped out on his forehead, no way was Tag admitting failure on this mission. He was a firm believer in fathers sharing all responsibilities in caring for their children. How hard could changing a diaper be?
The pop-up wipe dispenser seemed to have a jam, as one-handed, Tag
couldn’t get a sheet. With one hand firmly clamped over Flynn’s chubby belly, Tag yanked extrahard on the plastic tub. The thing toppled onto the floor, but at least the wipe stayed in his hand.
Next Tag kind of daubed the area, but after the initial cleaning, it was tough figuring out what needed attention and what didn’t.
He thought he had things handled when a golden stream erupted from—
“Hey, whoa!” Tag shouted, hoping he was loud enough for Olivia to hear in the kitchen. “We’ve got a gusher!”
Flynn carried on with his red-faced wail.
Laughing, Olivia jogged into the room. “Back away from the baby. I’m taking over.”
As much as Tag hated admitting defeat, he was smart enough to know when he was in over his head. Holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, he said, “I bow to your expertise.”
Rolling her eyes, she took over with practiced ease. In thirty seconds flat she had Flynn wiped down, grabbing him by his ankles as if he was a Thanksgiving turkey.
“What’re you doing?” Tag asked, eyebrows raised. “That doesn’t look normal.”
“Steady there, Mr. Mom. This technique is standard operating procedure. I learned it in my Baby & Me class.”
“Sure?”
“You’re being ridiculous.” With Flynn’s rump held six inches off the changing pad, she slid a diaper under him and then, pulling a few origami moves, had a still-sniffling Flynn diapered and dressed in fresh clothes. “There, did that look so hard?”
“Yes,” Tag complained. “But I’ll figure it out.”
Lifting Flynn off the dresser and into her arms, she soothed, “Shhh…I know, sweetie. You prefer working with competent people, don’t you?” Eyes smiling, she elbowed Tag on her way back into the kitchen. “Think you can handle holding him until I wash my hands and get the potatoes peeled?”
“Give me that kid.” A few minutes later Tag had washed his own hands and returned Flynn to his usual grinning, drooling self. As for the whole diapering thing, he’d take another stab at it later. After all, if teen babysitters did it, how tough could it be?
“THIS IS AMAZING,” Tag said of her roast. Since no wildflowers were yet blooming, he’d picked her a surprisingly pretty weed bouquet that now sat in a plastic pink tumbler, gracing the center of the table. Though it was only four in the afternoon, clouds had moved in, making it already fairly dark.
“Thank you.” Why, she couldn’t say, but Olivia glowed under Tag’s praise. It had been a while since she’d done something as simple as cook a meal for an appreciative audience. Sure, she’d fixed snacks for Gabby and Steph, but that wasn’t the same. “Every Sunday Phil and I used to cook a big dinner for coworkers and his family. My dad died of cancer a couple years back, and Mom missed him so much, she didn’t last much after him. Knowing I was kind of an orphan, Phil’s parents were great. We still exchange Christmas cards.”
After taking another bite, he said, “I was close with Maria’s family. It helped having them to lean on after she was gone.”
“I’m sure. Plus, I imagine it wasn’t awkward with them the way it was for me. I mean, you and Maria were the loves of each other’s lives. Phil…” She shrugged. “Well, let’s just say his parents were about as sickened by his actions as I was. I could tell they were sympathetic to what I was going through, but Phil is their son.”
“We are some pair,” Tag said, spreading butter on a roll. “Miserable to the core.”
“Speak for yourself,” Olivia said, bristling at his implication that because of Phil, she didn’t lead a fulfilling life. “I have Flynn and great friends and my mom’s sister and her husband. I have a great career and home and before you came along, I was happy. Genuinely content.”
“Thanks.” Expression hard, he said, “I was referring to our mutual lack of interest in the opposite sex. You didn’t have to make it personal. I don’t like the idea of sharing Flynn any more than you do, but those were the cards we were dealt.”
“I’m sorry.” Head bowed, she searched for words that wouldn’t come. How did she explain that although she was enjoying getting to know Tag, she still had concerns about how the logistics would be dealt with back home? Tag lived thirty minutes from her. She couldn’t imagine being so far from Flynn for one night, let alone a week or more. “I just—”
“I get it, okay? Let’s get back to trying to make the best of this, and steer clear of personal subjects.”
“Agreed.” While Flynn napped in his carrier a safe distance from the warm, cracking fire, Olivia resumed eating, only the meal now tasted flat. The mashed potatoes and glazed carrots and once-sumptuous roast might as well have been cardboard.
“Do you have any hobbies?” Tag asked.
“No.”
“What are your favorite pizza toppings?”
Glaring at him, she asked, “What’s the point of this?”
“Getting to know you better, since apparently we still have some deep-seated issues to work out.”
“You’re a drama queen.” Pushing her chair back, she took her plate and set it on the kitchen counter. She turned to Flynn. “We’re going for a walk.”
“Not with our son.”
Olivia sighed. “What? Do you think I’m going to take off hiking across the Ozarks with him? Set up camp in a cave?”
“Leave him,” Tag said, also standing. “As a sign of good faith.”
“You can’t even change a diaper,” Olivia was all too happy to point out. “What are you going to do if something worse pops up?”
“Oh—like in the next thirty minutes he’s going to come down with malaria or chicken pox?”
Lacing her tennis shoes, Olivia said, “It could happen. Besides, how do I know you won’t drive off with him in your great big car?”
Tag shook his head. “Do you still honestly think so little of me that I’d put Flynn in a vehicle with no car seat?”
Perching on a sofa arm, she said, “I don’t even remember what started all of this. We’re talking in circles.”
“Oh,” he said with a sharp laugh, “I’ll remind you exactly what started this. You saying that before you knew I existed, you were happy. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like you just wanted what I could give you—a son. You didn’t even give a crap whether my parents ever meet their grandson.”
“Whoa—if the sperm hadn’t been yours, but that of the donor I’d selected, it wouldn’t have even been an issue. If you want someone to blame, look to the lab. Didn’t you even question the fat settlement they’ve offered? Face it, we were both screwed.”
So furious she was finding it tough to even focus on the matter at hand, Olivia said, “I’ve got to get out of here, and in my current state I have no business caring for Flynn. Give me your car keys, and I’ll give you mine.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Your car has the safety seat.”
“Good point.” Stopping at the counter where they’d both dropped their keys, she took both sets. “Now we’re even. You have Flynn, and I have the transportation. See you in fifteen minutes.”
WITH THE DARK SKY threatening rain, Olivia didn’t go far in terms of physical distance—just headed along the trail winding through the cabins. Emotionally, however, she was all over the map. She didn’t know what had prompted her to say such a thing to Tag. He’d been wonderful. Kind and funny and helpful. Gut instinct told her Flynn was lucky to have the man for a father. But another, deeper instinct told her she had a far greater problem.
The fact that with every walk she and Tag shared, every laugh over an old movie, every meal, conversation and even their trip to the grocery store, she was starting to enjoy his company more.
It hadn’t been until the diaper debacle, though, that she’d realized just how much fun sharing parenthood could be. It was like going on a vacation with someone you love and sharing the sights. Not that she loved Tag. But his wanting to go baby shoe shopping was a rush. Flynn practically peeing on him and Tag still not running screaming was
indescribable.
She hadn’t been aware that men like Tag even existed. And the sad truth was that she’d been better off not knowing. Because then she didn’t have to wonder what if? What if she’d never met Phil? Never been emotionally destroyed by him? What if she’d met a man like Tag first? Or even Tag himself? How might her life have turned out differently?
Hand clamped over her forehead, she stopped, sitting hard on a log bench.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to the squirrel chattering in the oak tree above her. One minute she was enjoying Tag’s company, the next she was snapping his head off. What was wrong with her? Tag no doubt thought she was a total head case.
Speaking of the handsome lug…
With Flynn looking safe and loved in his arms, Tag strolled down the path. “You’ve been gone more than fifteen minutes and I heard thunder. I was worried.”
He was worried?
Her heart lurched. No, no, no. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. He wasn’t even remotely hunky, standing there holding her grinning son—their grinning son.
“I, um, want to apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have flipped out over a few simple words.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, only just now realizing that she was. “I blew everything out of proportion. I do that a lot. Maybe even with Phil I should’ve—”
“Don’t even go there. Phil was an ass.”
“Yes,” she said with a firm nod and smile. “Yes, he was. How insightful of you to bring that to my attention.”
He bowed his head. “My pleasure.” Sighing, he asked, “Truce?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. I hate to fight.”
“Me, too.” She smiled.
He smiled.
He held out his hand. “Walk with us?”
If the knot in her throat grew any bigger, she thought, she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Not trusting her voice, she interlocked her fingers with his.
TAG, BEING A MAN AND ALL, couldn’t be sure, but after their blowout, he sensed a change in Olivia. She seemed more relaxed around him. More at peace with their situation.
The Baby Battle Page 8