Zadie
The chubby baby squirmed like he was trying to escape a straitjacket. Every attempt to calm him had failed—rocking, walking, singing. None of it worked.
Maybe he didn’t like my song choice. “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” was kind of a weird one. Or maybe it was my voice. I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to listen to me either.
“Baa Baa Black Sheep?” I tried, switching from singing to speaking.
Sheep didn’t do the trick either.
Logan’s round little face scrunched in outrage. Everything about me offended him. He turned a furious shade of crimson and howled.
“Time’s up.” Caleb stood from the couch, arms already extended. “Hand him over.”
Passing a thrashing newborn was harder than it looked. I was terrified Logan would kick his way out of my arms and hit the floor before the handoff was complete.
“It’s fine.” Caleb’s voice was calm. “I’ve got him.”
And he did. He took Eric and Jamie’s screaming hell-spawn into his steady, capable arms and turned him into a different baby entirely. Immediately, Logan settled. Wails became cries. Cries became whimpers. Until the only sound left was a residual hiccup.
“How did you do that?” I stared.
He shrugged. “Kids love me.”
He dropped back onto the couch, kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and settled Logan against his chest like they’d been doing this together for years. Totally relaxed. Totally natural.
Totally, devastatingly hot.
I didn’t care how cliché it was. Seeing a newborn cradled against his flexed bicep and hard chest did something to me that should probably require medical attention.
He caught me staring. One eyebrow arched over the rim of his glasses. Those dark frames made him look unfairly intelligent on top of everything else.
God, I loved it when he wore those glasses.
“You going to join me?” He patted the cushion beside him. “Or are you planning to stand there and stare at me all day?”
“How long until Eric and Jamie come back?” I lowered myself onto the couch, close enough that my shoulder pressed against his.
“About an hour. Why?”
“How long do you think he’ll sleep?”
“I don’t know, Zadie.” He leaned toward me, Logan secure in the crook of his arm. “Why?”
I slid closer, peering down at the baby. Asleep, Logan wasn’t so terrible. He was kind of perfect, actually—all round cheeks and dark lashes and tiny fists curled against Caleb’s shirt. It helped that his parents were absurdly good-looking.
Caleb shifted Logan higher and freed his other hand, finding my thigh. I pressed closer, past caring about waking the baby. My only focus was Cal.
“You going to answer me?” he murmured.
What was the question?
I couldn’t remember. So I showed him instead.
My mouth found his, and I kissed him like I’d been waiting hours instead of minutes.
He kissed me back, the expert slide of his tongue building the heat that already burned steady and low in my center. Persistent, molten, insatiable heat. I was constantly on fire for this man.
A moan crawled up my throat, but it turned into a sharp gasp before it could escape. Caleb broke the kiss instantly.
