by Bria Quinlan
“Right.” I nodded, because that was a valid point in a guy kind of way. “But, you want to hold him so he’s more comfortable. Also, your arms are going to get tired.”
“Oh.” Tim looked down at Gus like he wanted to make sure he was happy and wasn’t really sure what to do about it.
“Try holding him like you would have carried your books in high school.”
This was the advice I’d been given when I was young, and it always seemed to work.
Well, always—until today.
Tim looked down at Gus, an edge of concentration on his face, and tucked him under his arm. Gus seemed to think this was all the rage, because he swung his little fists into Tim’s stomach as if he were banging on a drum.
“Okay, so maybe not like that.” I reached out, now afraid of dropping Gus since the subject had been raised, and pulled him up and into my arms. I cradled him—like books in my world—and realized he was going to be too big to carry like that long for Tim. “See, like this.” I held him up against my body and turned so he and Tim could get a look at each other over my shoulder. “He’s comfy. I’m comfy. No one is getting dropped. He’s easy to shift.” I moved him from one shoulder to the other. “And to tuck into his seat or stroller.” I turned and lowered him into his seat. “Plus, I always have his head protected. There’s very little chance that I’ll turn and walk him into something when he’s tucked up against me like this.”
“Right. No head injuries.” Tim looked as if he wanted to start taking notes.
“It’s going to be okay. You’ve got a nanny now and we’re a team.”
I buckled Gus in, checking and double-checking everything before making my way around to the driver’s side.
Tim hopped in, obviously not bothered at all to be letting a girl drive. No false machismo there.
“There’s an everything mercantile downtown.”
I headed that way, adjusting my mirror so I could see behind me and Gus. The radio played a song lightly in the background, and he kicked his little booty-covered feet to the rhythm.
“You didn’t have to come with us,” I finally said when it dawned on me.
It had just seemed so natural for Tim to help me load the baby into the car and head off to do some errands. So normal and everyday—so something I could not let myself get used to.
“Did you know the average American spends thirty-two thousand hours running errands?” I blurted out, falling back on old habits.
I was about to apologize for my weird non sequitur when there was a low huh from beside me.
“No. I did not know that.” Tim shifted in his seat so he could look at me. “But I’m not surprised. I mean, if you figure we spend one-third of our lives sleeping, errands seem like another low-productivity thing that would suck up time.”
“Yup, and average sleep even varies by day.” Because my first statement hadn’t sounded nerdy enough. “The average American sleeps the least on Fridays and the most on Sundays.”
This was, by far, my weirdest obsession.
It had begun when I was eight and realized that—because of who my parents were—I would never get to be an average American.
Well, not without hard work and research.
Lots of statistical research.
“Really? Talk about the weekend throwing off your sleep patterns.” Tim sounded genuinely intrigued. “I’m going to have to time myself and see if I can guess.”
I dropped my shoulder a bit, letting my hair slip down between us, because I was pretty sure my grin was way too goofy.
No one else had ever appreciated my average person facts.
We got to the gate, and he gave me directions of how to get in and out, where the sidewalk gates were, how to get to town, all as he pointed me back toward the highway where we’d find some type of general shopping plaza.
“Did you know that the iPhone is faster than the fastest computer built in 1985 with brand-new technology?” he asked.
“Really?” I knew they were fast, but that seemed incredible. “What type of computer?”
“It was called the Cray-2 Supercomputer.”
“Cool.”
Tim grinned at me, then went on to tell me average facts about technology. Some of them were definitely worth storing away for future pondering.
As his GPS told us we were nearing our destination, Tim pointed to the sign ahead, and I switched lanes to pull into a small parking lot. To get into it, we had to drive through a set of gates that looked straight out of a Transylvania vampire film.
“I just realized I didn’t take stock of what Gus needs.” I was already a nanny failure, day one! Tim was going to send me packing back to a crazy place where I had security guards run out to get that stuff and hating me for it.
This normal living wasn’t such a piece of cake.
“No problem. I downloaded a checklist the other night, and I’ve been tracking how much we go through on any given day and the brands we need. Check it out.” He showed me an app with Everything Gus as the file title.
How cute was that?
“And,” Tim went on, “I can even calculate how much we need to buy for a week based on past experiences in usage.”
I think I loved numbers.
Okay, maybe I didn’t want to be the one with the numbers, but I really loved to listen to Tim talk about numbers.
The Bottomless Cauldron seemed to be the one-stop shopping for the small town. It was clear they had everything a Target might have…on a much smaller scale. I only need a couple of days’ worth of play clothes, so everything should be easy peasy.
I hopped out, ready to run in and run out, but Tim was already preparing for a cross-country mission, it looked like.
He’d taken the Tim-assaulting baby bag over one shoulder as I ejected the car seat and switched it to carrier mode. Before I could even get it situated, Tim was reaching for it. “I’ll take him, right, buddy?”
Gus gurgled his approval, obviously considering a trip to the store a guys’ thing.
We headed toward the door, Tim watching everything with an awareness that made me wonder if he was ready to dive in front of a car for his nephew.
Inside, he grabbed a cart and glanced around before attempting to settle the carrier into the specially-made carriage. When he was done, I double-checked it because…NASA.
We stepped into the store, leaving the moderate normalness of the foyer behind, and into Halloween Heaven.
The front of the store was festooned in all things Halloweeny. Mostly small things like candy, basic decorations, cat ears, and Hobbit feet—the list went on. Everywhere I looked was a quick and dirty guide to celebrating the holiday.
“This is…” Tim glanced around while Gus craned his neck to try to see what Tim was seeing. “This is something else.”
“Yup.”
“Like, you couldn’t make this stuff up.”
“Right?” I said, trying to figure out if we’d find anything not orange and black. I could just picture Gus wearing jack-o’-lantern-covered diapers for the next however long.
And then I remembered we were here to get me clothing. A rush of holiday fear streaked through my body.
Before I could ask if there was a Target nearby, Tim was in action again.
“Okay, I’ll take Gus over to get all the baby stuff Everything Gus suggests we need, while you’re on making sure you have clothes for a while.” He tapped the app and brought up his list.
I looked at his mega list of baby must-haves and figured that, one, he didn’t need all that, and two, I’d be done way before him.
But, he was tapping away at his app, happily maximizing his numbers, so I just smiled and headed over toward the women’s section.
I searched for the ladies’ section (or in Nocturne Falls, the Witches and Sirens), weaving my way through the first three rows of more intricate costumes. There was everything from astronauts to zookeepers. I was beginning to give up hope—considering the fact that each day of the week might b
e a different costume (I was eyeing the 1950s airline attendant dress pretty hard) when I broke free and into the daily wear clothes.
Or, daily wear anywhere but here.
I grabbed a few skirts—jean, khaki, and cotton—a week’s worth of baby T-shirts in cute colors, underwear, bras, and a pair of flip-flops and called it good.
It was weird. I couldn’t wait to get back to the guys. Typically, even on the first day, I was taking my time where I got it.
When I came around the corner, I found Tim and a cart full of items standing in the middle of the aisle, Gus staring at the overhead lights like they were something out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. And…her.
CHAPTER FIVE
TIM
Tim put the rubber duckies back on the shelf for the fourth time and gave Gus a glance. The baby’s arms could not be that long. How was he getting his hands on the little plastic guys?
Tim glanced at the shelf and pushed all the ducks back a few inches. Gus shouldn’t even be able to see them from there.
Unless he’d suddenly become able to teleport rubberized toys, that should do it.
With a shake of his head, he pushed the cart on, looking for the next thing on the Everything Gus app. They had diapers, a good mix of all things Gus was taking in as nutrition, and a new rubber ducky—but only one, not four—no reason to go crazy. He’d tried to get everything they’d need so another trip wasn’t necessary, because all the lugging and packing to get one baby from point A to point B was the equivalent of him moving to Europe.
With a shrug, he tossed a few more packages of diapers in the cart. Then some more bottles, because it seemed like bottles were a good thing to have. And baby towels. Should you wash those, or would Gus just get sick from using used towels?
Where was Minx?
He glanced at the app again and hoped he wasn’t missing anything.
“Well, hello there.” The voice was low and practically purring. Gus’s attention was caught immediately on whatever was attached to the voice behind him. “Who’s this little guy?”
The nice lady thought Gus was staring at her big blue eyes, but Tim was pretty sure he was already gauging how quickly he could snag her dangly earrings without her noticing.
“This is Gus.” Tim fought the frown he could feel forming as she reached out and touched Gus’s little hand.
He didn’t know where that hand had been. What if she was one of those people who didn’t wash after using the restroom? He reached behind him and grabbed some sanitizing lotion and tossed it in the cart.
“Hello there, Gussy,” she said, in a high, squeaky voice. “How are you?”
Gus looked at Tim as if to ask, What the heck is with this lady?
Tim shrugged, because he couldn’t really say, No idea, kid, figuring that might be rude. Also, it might seem odd, and he couldn’t risk someone thinking a deranged person had gotten his hands on a baby.
“And, Gus’s dad, how’s he doing?” The sudden change in her voice and smile had Tim glancing at Gus like he might have an idea how to handle this.
“Oh, I’m not—”
“No Mrs. Gus’s Dad?” she asked.
“No, well. Yes, but she’s, um…” he glanced around, trying to figure out how to explain Willow. Telling a stranger she wasn’t around right now sounded like something it wasn’t. He didn’t want to talk about Gus’s mom in front of him like that.
He’d been reading baby books, and they were all very clear about how intuitive children were.
He glanced at Gus again, giving him an encouraging smile, but the baby just looked back like, Dude.
“That’s okay.” She reached out and patted Tim’s arm. “I totally understand.”
“No, it’s not that.” Tim tried to figure out where this conversation had gone wrong, when he heard a voice calling down the aisle.
“There you guys are.” Minx came striding toward them, several things shoved in a basket and a pair of flip-flops in hand. The cavalry. “I figured you’d be on to snacks by now.”
“Oh, we were just chatting with…” He waved a hand toward the woman who was glancing between him and Minx.
“Nancy.” The purr was gone, left by a flat tone Tim couldn’t read.
“Right, Nancy. She was saying hello to Gus,” he added as a defense. Not that he was sure why he was feeling defensive, but that Nancy woman was still touching Gus, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to allow that or not.
“Nancy, nice to meet you.” Minx smiled and set her basket under the carriage section of the cart. “Tim, this is a lot of diapers.” She gave him a smile before glancing back at Nancy again and continuing, “He has an app.”
Some weird sort of female communication went on that Tim was sure he was missing and wouldn’t have understood even if he hadn’t, but Nancy gave a slightly soured smiled and strolled away.
“Geez, you and a baby alone for ten minutes.” She shook her head and put two of the packages of diapers back. “I’m going to have to remember not to leave you two alone for long.”
Tim wasn’t really sure what to say to that since he hadn’t invited the germ-carrying Nancy over to just randomly touch babies, so he just shrugged as if to say, What are you going to do?
He hadn’t gone out very often with Gus since the amount of prep to leave the house was more than he could have ever imagined. But when he did, he found that women loved Gus. They wanted to talk to him and touch him and even asked if they could pick him up.
Which was a firm no.
He’d seen those old TV miniseries where women went insane and stole babies to pass off as their own.
“What’s all this?” Minx asked, trying not to laugh at the twelve packs of diapers he had shoved into his cart as she put yet another package back.
“It’s what I’ve estimated we’ll go through in a week.”
“The average toddler only goes through eight diapers a day.” She was obviously doing some quick math in her head, because she gave him a look that clearly wondered how in the world he’d come up with this many packages for a week.
“Right.” Tim cleared his throat. “But, user error.”
“User error?” Minx looked at Gus, obviously trying to calculate how he could mess up using his diaper.
“Not Gus, me.” Tim glanced away, and she was pretty sure he was blushing. “Sometimes it takes a few tries to get it on right and make sure he’s comfortable. He kicks a lot. I don’t want to restrain him.”
He was pretty sure she gave him an awww before putting two more packages back.
“Don’t worry; we’ll get the user error down—and, think of this.” She gave him a blindingly reassuring smile and put one of the packages back. “You live in a mansion. There’s only so much room for diapers, and I’m pretty sure we’re reaching that point.”
She took over the cart, pushing it smoothly down the aisle and chatting with Gus at the same time. She told him about the T-shirts she was buying and how they were made for playing with babies and that they could get messy and it wouldn’t matter—just a constant stream of nonsense Gus adored.
They sped through the rest of the things on the list, and headed to the checkout as Tim followed along behind, dazed…and a bit smitten.
He was barely aware when they got to the register after making it past the screaming bats and waving ghosts of the extras that had magically appeared in the cart.
“Gus.” Tim had to put his foot down here and now. Gus might be feeling alone with his mom gone, but he wasn’t going to get away with all the spoils no matter what. “I said one ducky. Four is a no-go, buddy. You can have one. Pick.”
Minx looked at Tim as if he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had. But he knew he’d put those duckies back.
Gus glared, not happy with the apparent change in plans. There was a regular duck, a Viking duck, a blue duck, and a purple duck. Gus leaned forward and put a hand on the regular ducky and the Viking.
“Nope. No can do. You can have the other one da
y as a treat, but today you can have one.”
“Um, Tim…” Minx was standing there, looking at him as if she was going to take his purchasing power away altogether. “He’s a little young for a lot of this…first, the knowing he has to pick; and second, for getting these in the first place.”
Tim didn’t answer, just continued his stare-down with the baby.
“Oooookay then.” Minx picked up the blue duck and put it on the conveyer belt. “Blue ducky it is.”
Gus screeched like only a toddler could and waved the two other ducks at her.
“One duck, Gus.” Tim was adamant.
Gus was annoyed.
Minx was a little worried about the sanity of the Johnson men.
Just as she was beginning to wonder if they’d have this standoff all night, Gust turned and gave her the yellow ducky before holding the Viking out to Tim.
“Thank you. I’ll remember this is the other one you like.”
Tim leaned over and kissed his little head as she paid for her clothes.
Minx glanced around, expecting odd looks from the cashier and other guests, but no one seemed to think the exchange was in the least bit odd.
When the older man behind the counter rang Tim up, he gave him an approving smile. “Good for you, son. Hold your ground. Especially with our young ’uns here. They need a strong hand.”
Minx just shook her head. So far, normal wasn’t as normal as she’d expected.
CHAPTER SIX
MINX
The average American eats forty-six slices of pizza a year.
By the time we got home from errands, we were all beat. The boys were cranky—both of them—and I was beginning to think I could gnaw my way through a piece of wood and not notice the lack of flavor.
I took Gus up to his room, Tim following behind us with all our purchases in tow. It was something of a novelty to have my boss carrying packages, but I wasn’t going to fight him on it. Of course, we didn’t have “people” to do that stuff.
It was kind of nice to just have the three of us bumping around this big house. No security or personal assistants or any other type of extras making noise and putting everything off schedule and off-kilter.