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“Th-Thank you, Marshall. For everything.”
He takes me by surprise when he reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “You’re welcome,” he says, his voice once again husky, but this time it’s not from sleep. His eyes capture mine, and he leans in. I think he’s going to kiss me. Do I want him to kiss me?
Madeline grunts and nuzzles my chest, pulling our attention. “She’s hungry. At least she thinks she is.” I laugh nervously.
“She drank all of her bottles, but that was a couple of hours ago.”
“I have more.”
“You can,” he nods to my chest, “you know, feed her here. We can sit here so you’re out of eyeshot if you’re nervous about it.”
“I’m not.” I shake my head. “I mean, it’s natural, right?”
“Right.” He swallows hard. “But we should stay here.”
“Why?” My hackles rise.
His hand slides behind my neck, and he leans in close. “Because I don’t want my brothers to see you.”
“I’ll be covered.”
“It’s the thought.”
“Will they be offended?” I didn’t get that impression from any of them.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I just— Never mind. It will be fine. You can feed her here or under the pavilion out of the sun.”
I don’t know what he was going to say, but his facial expression looked angry or pained even. I decide to let it go. I have more important matters to handle, like feeding my daughter. “Thank you.” I make quick work of changing her diaper and dressing her. “All better?” I ask Madeline, lifting her from the quilt. “Can you tell Marshall thank you for watching you and letting us use his truck?” I know she can’t actually do it, but it’s my roundabout way of thanking him. I turn to face him. “Thank you, Marshall.”
“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s go feed her.” He grabs the quilt and shuts the tailgate. Once again, he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the pavilion.
The heat of his palm sears through the thin fabric of my shirt, and it makes me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling when it comes to Marshall. It’s been a long time since I’ve been privy to the warm touch of a man, and my body is reacting to that. It’s not him. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Chapter 9
Marshall
I can’t stop touching her. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself. I almost kissed her. I was so close to closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to hers. She smells so damn good, and her skin is the softest I’ve ever felt on a woman.
With my hand on the small of her back, I lead her back to the pavilion. I ignore my family as they watch us. “Here,” I say, pointing to the lounge chair that Madeline and I napped on earlier. Wren takes a seat and settles in. My pulse is racing as I wait for her to feed her daughter. I’ve seen a woman breastfeed their baby. Sawyer does it all the time with Roan. It’s never bothered me before.
It doesn’t bother me now. It’s the fact that everyone will see her. I have this unfounded sense of protectiveness that’s bubbling up inside me when it comes to Wren and Madeline. I don’t understand it, and I know that it’s irrational, but I can’t seem to stop my reacting. Instead, I’m hovering over them like they’re mine.
They’re not.
Taking a seat next to her on the lounge chair, I ignore Royce as his eyes bug out. He’s going to silently ask me what the hell I’m doing, and I don’t have an answer. Silent or spoken, I don’t know what’s come over me.
I almost kissed her.
It warrants repeating.
She’s a single mom, not some random woman at a club. I know better, yet I was close to doing it anyway. Shaking out of my thoughts, I watch as Wren reaches for the diaper bag, and I find that I’m holding my breath. I should have offered her the cool air conditioning of my truck to feed Madeline. Why is this bothering me? My eyes are glued to her, and when she pulls a bottle from the diaper bag, I expel a heavy breath.
She notices and smiles at me. “I came prepared.”
I nod because I can’t seem to form words at the moment. She could have told me this ten minutes ago, but then again, why would she? How she chooses to feed her daughter isn’t up to me. And let’s talk about her smile? Does she know how potent it is? And even more so, why does it affect me the way that it does? Why does it have my heart racing and my lips tingling to taste hers?
“She was hungry,” I say when Madeline latches onto the bottle and drinks greedily. I need to try and focus my attention elsewhere. Anywhere but on the adorable little girl's mother.
