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My brows rose. “And?”
“And his wife was having contractions when he left, so all he can think about is getting back home,” Nathan continued.
I understood that completely.
“You do realize, right, that we live in Kilgore, Texas?” I said to him. “It takes five minutes to get across the whole fuckin’ town when you’re using your police lights and sirens.”
Dax rolled his eyes.
“It’s not even that. It’s the fact that I have to open all this shit, and then deal with it,” he muttered.
I reached into my bag, pulled the gift out, handed it to him, and then folded up the bag and the tissue paper.
Nathan, seeing what I’d done, did the same thing.
Seconds after that, my brother walked in with an unwrapped car seat.
He set the thing down beside the table, flicked open his knife, sliced open the box, and then pulled the entire damn car seat out of the box.
“Now you can throw your shit in there,” he said as if he’d somehow heard the entire conversation even though I knew for a fact he’d been outside.
He’d been talking to someone, who I assumed was Delanie, but couldn’t be a hundred percent sure since he was being so secretive about who he was talking to.
We’d ridden together, and during that ride, he’d been extremely cautious about what he said.
Which was very unlike my brother.
Yes, he definitely had a thing for a certain sister.
“Perfect,” Malachi, who’d walked in with eight bags of diapers stacked sky high in his hands, said.
He dropped all eight boxes into the box.
“Do you want me to install the car seat in your truck?” Bourne asked Dax.
Dax sighed. “I’m an ass. But shit. I hate making Rowen do anything extra. The idea of having to do all this while running on three hours of sleep over the last forty-eight hours really wasn’t sitting well with me.” He paused. “You know how to put car seats in?”
Bourne nodded. “Come on. I’ll show you what you have to do.”
Ten minutes later we were all crowded outside. Adam, Sammy, Malachi, Nathan, Saint—who showed up with a big ass box of his own and put it straight into the bed of Dax’s truck—were off to the side talking quietly.
“What’s in the box?” I heard Adam ask Saint.
“A pack and play or something. It was on their list at Target.” Saint paused. “The lady looked at me like she was scared to death. I think she actually muttered ‘help that dear sweet child’ while she was ringing me up.”
Adam chuckled and continued the conversation, but it was lost on me when Dax asked a question.
“Can you just use the car seat strap?” Dax asked.
“You can,” I muttered. “But why bother when you have a new truck and the car seat anchors in it? Trust me, they’re fuckin’ amazing. And so easy to use. See that little silver thing right there?”
Bourne was on one side, I was on the other, and Dax was inside the truck actually installing the car seat on his own.
“I don’t think I had anything like this when I was a kid,” Dax muttered.
“Shit’s safe now,” I said. “Things have even changed since Asa was a baby. Back then, you could turn them around when they’re one. Now they recommend waiting until they’re two. Which sucked because Asa gets carsick and rode way better the moment I turned him around.”
“Don’t blame him,” Ford, who was in the front seat looking on, said. “I’d throw up if I had to ride backward, too.”
“Amen,” Louis said as he watched the man install the car seat base. “This thing just clicks in?”
Dax took the car seat from Louis and started to set it in.
“The seat is backward,” I said. “Turn it around.”
He did.
It still didn’t fit.
“Scoot it farther toward the seat and lean it back slightly,” Bourne said. “The seat’s in a reclining position. There. Perfect.”
The seat clicked into place, and Dax crawled out of the truck.
I had to move or be moved.
I moved.
We all trudged back into the bar after that to finish opening Dax’s presents. But only after Dax snapped a photo of the car seat in his truck and sent it to who I only could assume was his wife.
Once everyone was inside, Dax started reaching for the presents again, but stalled out on mine.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked as he picked the small box up.
“A gift card,” I replied dryly.
Dax rolled his eyes.
“I mean what the gift card is taped to, dumbass,” he replied, flipping the blue box over and inspecting the writing. “What the fuck is a Nose Frieda?”
I didn’t answer as he tried to make sense of the box.
In fact, my lips were twitching.
“What the fuck is this?” Dax asked again as he looked at the present in confusion.
I pulled my phone out and found the video that I wanted to use for just this instant.
