Page 12 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“No!” Otis squeals as his feet hit the ground.

“What?” I ask, confused. “You don’t want a cinnamon roll?”

“Yes, but no let go.” He clings to me tighter, burying his head in my neck.

Oh, fuck me. What am I supposed to do now? Other than not let go. Because there is zero chance of that. Not with that cute little voice asking. Pretty sure at this point he could ask me to rob a bank, and as long as he did it in his little kid broken grammar and that squeaky voice, I’d comply.

“It’s okay, Little Man, I won’t let go.”

I stand back up, shifting him to my other hip, wondering how much longer I can actually hold him. I didn’t think he was that heavy at first, but that was before his dead weight sat on my joints for ten minutes. Fuck, how do parents do this?

Weaving back behind the table, I smile at my mother, taking the cinnamon roll Dolly baked this morning from her and holding it up to Otis. She smiles back knowingly, her eyes full of amusement.

“I think someone likes you,” she whispers. Otis takes a big bite of the pastry that is almost as big as his head, smearing frosting all over his face—and my shirt. “You were the same way, you know. Wanted to always be holding on to me or your daddy. Like you were afraid that we might disappear if you weren’t physically connected to us.”

“Safety first,” I joke.

Well, half joke. As the personal safety guru of the family, that’s my life motto. I believe in it wholeheartedly—whether it concerns your person, property, or some activity you’re doing. No reason to be reckless.

“Clingy is the word most parents go with,” she sasses back.

Whatever…

“Let me make a call and see if anyone has reported a missing kiddo,” she adds. “You two enjoy that cinnamon roll.”

We do just that, Otis letting me sneak in a bite or two, but mostly keeping it for himself. He’s made a pretty good dent in it, considering his size. Apparently the kid has my appetite too.

Nope…not thinking about him like that…

“Otis!”

A shrill, panicked voice calls out, stealing our attention. I scan the crowd, but Otis finds her first, knowing who he’s looking for. Rocking in my arms, he reaches out, almost dropping his treat.

“Mama!”

My stomach flips, both thankful we found her and sad that my time with my new friend is coming to an end. I have no idea what I would do with someone this age in my life; bachelorhood does not lend itself to small children. Still, I grew kind of attached to this one pretty quick.

Maybe my parents are on to something with the hints about my brothers and sister reproducing.

“There you are!”

A frazzled brunette skids to a halt right in front of us, her face flushed from both her running around and her clear panic over the missing kid. Can’t blame her there. She sucks in a long, heavy breath, her hand flying to her chest, relief visibly washing over her.

I scan her up and down, taking in the beauty that stands before me. Fuck, is she pretty. And I can’t help but notice the lack of wedding ring.

Until our eyes meet. And I realize exactly who is standing in front of me.

You have got to be fucking kidding me…