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I blushed profusely, embarrassed by my overreaction.
“Oh…I’m sorry…I thought…”
“I know what you thought,” he laughed, clearly amused by my humiliation. “Anyway, when I invited you to dinner, I’d forgotten I told Trace I’d babysit so he and Olivia could have a night out. I hope you don’t mind…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head.
Dean started making a buzzing noise with his lips.
“No, I don’t mind. Can I…Can I hold him?” I reached my arms out. My demeanor had completely changed once I knew the child wasn’t his.
Trent quickly deposited the baby in my arms. “Maybe I can cook now. This little gremlin,” he smacked Dean’s butt, “keeps trying to break Bartholomew out of his cage.”
I laughed. “The ferret?”
“Yep,” Trent nodded, heading back inside, assuming I’d follow—which of course I did.
The townhouse was really pretty, with shiny wood floors and light blue walls. It was airy and welcoming. There was a formal living room to my right, but it was empty. I followed Trent towards the back of the house, past a set of stairs, to where it opened up to a kitchen, dining room, and family room. The furniture was dark and manly, but everything was surprisingly neat and clean. There was nothing lingering out in the open that shouldn’t be there. I didn’t know why I expected a mess.
“So…where’s Bartholomew?” I asked. At this point, a part of me still believed he’d made up the pet ferret thing. He pointed to a cage in the corner, which was obscured by the large entertainment center. “I keep him in there when I’m down here, and he has a cage in my room.”
“He gets lonely?” I laughed.
“I get lonely,” he said with a straight face. “You wouldn’t believe what a good snuggling partner a ferret is.”
“You’re a strange guy,” I continued to laugh as Dean squirmed in my arms. I finally was forced to put him down before I dropped him. He immediately toddled over to Bartholomew’s cage and tried to undo the latch. Trent hadn’t been lying, the kid really wanted the ferret out.
“Now that you’re here,” Trent said as he looked through the refrigerator, “you can get Bartholomew out if you want and let Dean pet him.”
“Uh…” I didn’t know why, but I felt a bit frightened of the furry brown and white creature
peering lazily at me from a hammock in its cage.
“Oh, come on, Rowan,” Trent goaded me, as he closed the refrigerator door, setting items on the granite counter, “don’t tell me you’re afraid of him. He won’t bite…if you’re nice.”
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. I moved Dean behind me and opened the cage. The furry creature hopped out of the hammock and hurried to the open door. I grabbed him before he could jump out. He was surprisingly light and his fur was soft. I looked down at his face, and he was actually pretty cute.
“Come on, Dean,” I called to the toddler as I took a seat on the couch. I held Bartholomew in one hand and reached down to help Dean up with the other.
“Mew Mew,” Dean smiled up at me, displaying small white teeth as he pointed at the squirming creature in my hands.
“He can’t say Bartholomew,” Trent called, “just go with it.”
I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply. Did he really think I couldn’t figure out what the kid meant by Mew Mew?
“Soft.” Dean petted Bartholomew with a surprising gentleness. “Kiss.” He lowered his head and kissed the furry critter on top of his small head. Bartholomew seemed used to the attention and didn’t move. He’d stilled in my arms and I thought he might have fallen asleep. When I woke up this morning this was so not how I’d seen my day going. I mean, who expects to cuddle with a ferret? I still felt a bit bad about jumping to the conclusion Dean was Trent’s son without asking questions. They looked so much alike though. Dean had thick dark hair and his smile had Wentworth written all over it. I guessed Trace and Trent had some strong genes. There wasn’t anything about Dean that didn’t look like a Wentworth…except maybe his slightly upturned nose. He was a cute kid with expressive green eyes…he did seem to drool a lot though.
Dean crawled onto my lap and continued to pet Bartholomew with his chubby little hand. “Mew Mew,” he whispered again. Looking up at me, he asked, “Who you?”
Dean seemed to realize for the first time that I was a stranger. He was still burrowed against my chest though, and seemed to have no plans to leave. Unlike most kids, he obviously wasn’t afraid to get cozy with a stranger.
“My name is Row,” I answered him.
“Row?” He repeated, looking up at me with big green eyes.
“That’s right,” I smiled, lightly tickling his stomach and making him giggle.
I looked up and my gaze connected with Trent’s. He was looking at me wistfully, and my heart raced in my chest knowing what he was seeing and probably imagining.
I quickly looked away. “Me, Dean,” Dean pointed at his chest. “You, Row,” he poked my breast. Definitely a Wentworth. “Dat, Mew Mew, and he Rent!” He twisted to point enthusiastically at Trent.
