Still, I hurry into my house, knowing that if Shane hurt my children in anyway, I’d kill him with my bare hands.
With mom-instinct roaring in my ears, I race into my house, calling out.
“Back here.” Shane’s voice is light, happy-sounding.
I scurry to the kid’s bathroom, and there’s Liv in the tub that’s filled with too many bubbles, a half wet Shane, and Jamie’s in his pajamas, sitting on the counter, brushing his teeth.
“Mommy!” Liv yells, standing, teetering, her little body in one of her bathing suits. Shane catches her in a quick second from falling.
“Hi, babe.” I laugh, all my fear and worrying falling away as I notice how Shane is getting even wetter. Wrapping my arm around my son, I say, “Had a good time?”
“Weth biz bet,” Jamie says around his toothbrush.
I have no clue what my son said, but before I can ask Shane chuckles.
“I didn’t know what time bed was,” he shrugs. “So I thought I’d get them ready.”
Shane rocks as a babysitter. Oh, and I hadn’t even paid attention that the mess in my kitchen is clean. Yes, he seriously rocks.
“We had—had—had macaroni cheese and hotdogs,” Liv tells me.
“Wow, that sounds yummy.” I want to kick myself for not telling Shane to make supper for them. But he did anyway. Okay, is there a Pulitzer for babysitters? Because Shane deserves it.
Liv nods. “Yummy.”
Shane winces. “It’s about the only thing I know how to make that kids like.”
I smile at him, hoping I look reassuring.
“Did you eat?” Shane’s looking at Liv, pouring water from a pink cup over her head carefully, gently washing her no-tears shampoo out, but I’m pretty sure the question is aimed at me.
“No.” I look at Jamie again, who’s spitting in the sink. “And I’m starving.” I pick up my son’s arm. “This looks delicious.” I bite up and down my growing boy’s arm, making him laugh and push me away.
“Mommy, don’t eat me.”
“Mommy, eat me,” Liv hollers, putting her hand in the air. “Eat me. Eat me!”
I laugh and scoop Jamie to sit on my lap after replacing him from where he was stationed. “You’re dessert, girl.” I pretend to eat Jamie’s other hand, while he’s laughing and turning in my lap.
He touches my cheek, looking up at me. “Mommy, you look happy.”
“I’ve captured you and am now going to eat you alive. Of course, I’m happy.”
He smiles. “Mommy, we played GI Joes the whole time. Even Liv played with us.”
“That sounds like so much fun.”
Jamie’s grin widens. My heart squeezes so hard. I haven’t seen my son smile like that…well, he does here, with me, in our house, where he feels safe. But other than with me, his expression is always grim, almost sad.
I’m close to tears when I look up at Shane, amazed he could make my son smile like this.
“Okay, little girl,” he says. “I think bath time is over.”
“You wet.” Liv laughs.
“You noticed?” Shane looks down at his blue t-shirt clinging to his muscular form. Just what is it with the Whitaker boys and their bodies? Shane pulls his shirt away from his chest. “I need a bath after giving you one.”
Liv giggles loudly, my adorable thunderous baby. “You silly.”
Shane points at his chest. “Me?”
“You!”
Shane laughs. “All right. I guess I am.” He grabs a towel and holds it open. “Get in here.”
Liv jumps, scaring the crap out of me, but Shane’s too fast to let anything happen to my daughter and catches her with the towel, wrapping up her tiny wiggling form.
“Liv.” He cradles her close to his chest. “You scare me.”
She laughs, little dare devil that she is. Before I know it, Shane’s leaving with my daughter. And I’m letting him. I can’t believe how…domestic this is. Tony’s never given Liv a bath. She usually comes back from Tony’s a dirty, smelly mess. Or he insists on a shower when she’s not too sure about the spray yet. So this is all new to me—a man caring after my children.
I hold Jamie close as I follow Shane, who’s clearly figured out which room is which. He’s in Liv’s bedroom, already helping her get dressed.
“Pull-ups at night.” Liv points to the diapers.
Shane nods and grabs one.
“Shane,” I say, putting Jamie down. “I’ll do this. You’ve already—”
“I want Shane do it!” Liv hollers.
I kneel down, looking my daughter in the eye. “No shouting, please.”
She’s still wrapped in a towel, her light hair a curly halo, even if she acts like a demon from time to time. She’s scowling at me. “But—”
I tilt my head at her.
“But I want Shane to do it,” she whispers. Emphatically.
“I don’t mind,” Shane says, holding out a pull-up and a lime-green set of pajamas.
“Mommy?” Jamie’s suddenly hugging my leg. “Will you put me to bed?”
“Go, ahead.” Shane smiles at me. “I got the girl. You get the boy.”
“Sure?” A part of me worries I might be taking advantage of Shane. As far as parenting—well, it’s not like Tony’s a dunce. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just he expects me to do it all. Alone. He’ll sweep in for his weekends of fun, where he feeds the kids junk food and makes sure they’re busy every second of the day, but he’s never cared for them during the normal day-to-day.
I’ve never had a partner in parenting. I know Shane’s just babysitting, but this is more help than I’ve ever gotten and I’m afraid I like it too much, am taking too much from him.
Shane nods as my son peels himself away from me and runs to Shane, hugging him fiercely. Shane tries to hug him back, but his hands are full, and he pats Jamie on the head.
“Will you come back and play with me?” My son’s green eyes are huge, looking up at Shane.
“I’d like that, buddy. You bet.”
Jamie lowers his head and hugs Shane even harder then flies away and races toward his bedroom, yelling, “Mom, are you coming?”
I catch Shane’s gaze, hoping I’m conveying how appreciative I am of all he’s done for me tonight. But I’m scared my appreciation is too much, too great. I’m slightly…I don’t know how to phrase it. I’m excited? My heart is pounding a lot. I’m happy? There is a general sense of joy fluttering throughout my body. But what is this feeling?
Actually, I don’t want to spend too much time on it because…well, it’s Shane. The man who, upon meeting, said I should learn more Latin and other languages. He’s corrected my grammar. He’s gruff, often rude, grumpy, and the way he looks at me, I thought, was with a tiny bit of disgust.
But I don’t know the man who gives my daughter a bath and makes my son smile. Jamie smiling…by a man! I never thought…Yes, I don’t know who this Shane is. All the same, I’d rather not think too much about him.
After a bedtime story, Jamie can’t keep his eyes open and is breathing evenly within ten minutes of putting him down. Wow. Just wow. Shane must have tired him out, playing. I leave my son’s bedroom, expecting to hear Liv yelling at her new favorite person, but her bedroom door is partially closed, the lights off, and she’s softly snoring as she does. I should have her sinuses checked. Or maybe she’s just a snorer.
I have to see her for myself and sneak into her room. She’s out, like Jamie was. After kissing her forehead, I tiptoe from her bedroom and find Shane in the hallway. He blinks and takes my hand, leading me back to the kitchen. I follow. If Shane was leading me to be slaughtered, I’d probably still follow him, so in awe of what he’s done for me.
He walks straight to the refrigerator, opening it, still holding my hand.
“You want the mac ’n’ cheese?” He’s already getting it out before I have time to answer.
I let his hand go and hug him, probably as hard as my son did. “Thank you,” I say into
his neck. I have to stand on my tiptoes for this hug and he’s still holding the fridge’s door and the pot of orange pasta, but I keep embracing him. “Thank you so much for tonight. I don’t know what you did, but they’re so happy. Thank you.”
I can sense he’s closing the door and putting the pot down, slowly wrapping his arms around me.
“My mom came by after we’d had dinner. She told me the kids should have some veggies, so I made them corn too.”
I laugh, though I’m not sure why. “How’s your mom?”
“Better. Good, I think.” His hands caress up my back then down again.
“Thank you.” I can’t help but say it again and again.
His hands are on my hips in a fast move, pushing me away. He’s smiling like I’ve just embarrassed him. I probably have. I’m being…weird. I’m just so fucking grateful. Eva doesn’t even help this much.
He glances down, sipping in a sharp breath. “I made you wet.” Then he winces. I swear to god the man blushes. Pink is suddenly in his hollowed cheeks, reaching down his neck.
But I just laugh as I glance at my tank top, damp on one side. My nipple’s contracting, but…okay, in mom-mode it’s hard to think about sex. Granted, I’m feeling a tad odd around Shane and can’t identify, nor do I want to, how I’m feeling. But in mom-mode, sex, feeling attractive, and being attracted, is kind of the last thing on my mind. My body is used as a gymnastics apparatus. My breasts are used for climbing. What’s between my legs is dormant. I’m so not a sexual creature that my body’s reaction to the dampness on my tank top, to what Shane’s said, even his blushing, doesn’t affect me.
“I should dry off your shirt.”
Shane takes a step away from me, like I just said I was going to take all his money. “You haven’t eaten. Eat.” He points with his head at the pot. “I’ll heat it up—”
I turn toward the food. “Oh, I’ll eat it cold. It’ll be fine. But we should dry off.” I smile at him and realize he’s not grinning back. I shake my head. “Are you getting cold, wearing half of Liv’s bath on you?”
He takes another step away. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll pop your shirt in the dryer.” I say, taking a step closer, snagging him by his t-shirt’s bottom hem. “I’ll have this dry in no time. You can wear—” But I stop talking, suddenly at a loss of words as I see a tiny bit of his flesh. His stomach is like Joe’s. He’s all bunched muscles, but he’s slightly darker. And the hair under his bellybutton is almost black. But what catches my eye the most is there’s a bulge at the apex of his legs.
And of course, the mom hat comes off. Because it’s not like I’m inappropriate enough, but suddenly I’m feeling…god, is this desire pouring through my body? What the hell is wrong with me? I’m having sex with his brother. And—and he’s the other son of my best friend. Seriously, something is wrong with me.
I let go of his t-shirt, glancing up at him, wondering if the large bulge in his pants is just him…or a version of him that’s a tad excited. Like I am. God.
“Moira.” He shakes his head.
There’s a soft knocking at my front door. I glance at the kitchen clock. It’s close to nine, later than most people would visit, and doom settles into my stomach, making me wonder if it’s Tony on my doorstep. I’ve put him off long enough. Of course, he’d show up when I’m feeling despicably attracted to the brother of the man I’m fucking.
I can’t say a word to Shane, too embarrassed, but just walk away, finding the big red flannel I wear in the mornings in the brief moments before my children wake up. Flinging on the shirt, I brace myself for whatever Tony’s going to say or do. I open the door, half in a fog of bewilderment, then instantly smile.
“Joe.”
16
Joe, though, does not return my smile.
“My mom said Shane’s here, watching your kids.” He’s whispering, but his voice is hard.
And I feel terrible. Here Joe’s asked to meet my kids. He’s been so respectful about it. But his brother’s actually watched them, cared for them. “He came over when—”
“Why’d he come over?”
I tilt my head to the side. “I—I didn’t ask. He just showed up when Bit asked me to—”
“He just happened to be here when you needed a babysitter?”
I nod. But from my periphery, I can see Shane coming into view, standing in the space between my front room and the kitchen.
I want to ask Joe why he didn’t just break in here. Or if he maybe did and saw me—I can’t be attracted to Shane too.
You know what that was—that weird feeling I had toward Shane? It was just being around an attractive man. Or maybe my gratitude somehow got confused with feeling attracted to him. At any rate, it doesn’t mean anything. And I would never, ever cheat. Even though I have no clue what to call my relationship with Joe, I would never do anything to hurt him. And whatever butterflies were fluttering in my stomach when I saw Shane’s muscles are…well, they’re nothing. They don’t exist.
“Come in, Joe.” I smile. “I’m so happy to see you.”
His stern face twitches. But then he regains his frown. “You still going to keep us secret from my brother?”
I shrug and look down. “I don’t know him, and—”
“But you leave your kids with him.”
I wince.
He sucks in a breath. “Sorry. It’s just—Moira, call me. I’m here. For you. If you need anything.”
I nod. “I haven’t had that…in a long time. I’m sorry—”
He sighs. “It’s okay. I’m just jealous as fuck my brother got to meet your kids. Got to hang out with you.”
I stiffen. Shane’s moving closer. After nodding, I step away from the door. “Please, come in. Your brother—”
Joe steps through the threshold, and Shane breaks into a wide grin. He’s closer than just a second ago.
“Hey.” Shane walks forward, extending an arm and they do a half hug, slapping-each-other’s-back thing.
Joe stuffs his hands in his pocket. “Mom said you were here. So I—”
“Yeah.” Shane nods, then looks at me. “I thought it was maybe—” He shakes his head. “I forgot to tell you that your ex-husband called while you were gone. I had Jamie talk to him. Jamie didn’t know what he was talking about. He was more interested in Liv trying to steal his favorite GI Joe than talking on the phone. I probably should have answered, but—”
“No, it’s okay,” I say so fast it sounds kind of silly.
“Anyway, he called. From what I gathered, he sounded kind of upset. Probably wants to talk about something.”
I nod and look down yet again at the white carpet in the front room, wishing I wasn’t so scared of whatever it is Tony wants to say to me. Wishing I didn’t have to face him. But I plaster on a brave face and try to smile up at the Whitaker brothers.
“Is everything okay regarding your ex?” Shane asks.
I glance up, wondering if I’m that obvious.
He’s wincing. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business. I just…are you…safe?”
What a funny word for him to pick. Safe. As a little girl, I remember worrying when my mother would drink too much. She’d smoke too, and sometimes her lit cigarettes would burn the carpet. My anxiety over my mother’s drinking is as old as my memories. And I hate it that I resorted to the same habit as she.
I remember rare moments when my father would have an evening off and my mother would be out and I’d feel…safe. I didn’t have to worry. I didn’t have to think too much or try to hide the cigarettes. When my mother was sober, she’d push me to practice the piano or my voice or both. I could hit the notes right when I sang, but I didn’t have a passion for it. I liked playing the piano, but only because I knew it made her happy. So when my mother was gone, and I was alone with my father, I could read any book I wanted, look at pretty pictures in magazines, take walks with him, memorizing the way a bird would sing.
Those moments were so few that I never
really knew what it felt like to be safe for any long periods. I was used to a certain amount of anxiety in my life. I guess that’s why I never felt all that uncomfortable around Tony when we met. Because something inside me knew I’d have to worry and that was more familiar than anything else.
But now that I am divorced and trying not to drink and trying to find some kind of peace in my life, I wonder if I’ll ever know what safe means.
I can’t help but glance up at Joe. For the first time in my life, a man makes me feel safe. And I, even though I should probably analyze it to death, feel safe with my kids around Shane.
I nod, trying to shy away from both of their intense gazes.
As much as I feel safe with the two men in front of me, I have no fucking idea what to do about it. Maybe I should tell them, especially Joe, that Tony was rough with me. That he’s being…weird. But how much does a boyfriend—if Joe even calls himself that and do people call themselves that anymore?—want to know about an ex-husband?
Shane makes a grunting noise, and Joe opens his mouth, his brows furrowed.
Shane smacks his brother in the gut. “She doesn’t want to tell us.”
“Yeah.” Joe’s nodding. “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to make her.”
I bite my lip, not sure if Joe’s teasing or not. His voice is a lot reedier than it usually is, sounding strained too.
I cock a brow at Joe. “How?”
“How can I make you talk?” Joe crosses his giant arms.
Shane’s grimacing even more. “You do know what the man did in the military, right? I’m pretty sure he can make you talk.”
I snort and roll my eyes, walking away from both of them.
Suddenly, I’m airborne. Somehow, I’m being flung over Joe’s shoulder, my stomach pressed into his hard muscles.
Joe’s walking to my kitchen as I’m upside-down, and Shane’s bent over to look at me.
“I did warn you, Moira.” He’s trying not to smile too widely.
I smack Joe’s butt. “You put me down, you big brute.”
“Gosh, big brute,” Shane says, repeating me. “That’s some mean talk there.”
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 16