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What in the hell is going on?
A woman’s soft voice.
A man’s terrified words.
A woman’s frustrated sigh followed by a soft laugh.
Another round of masculine grumbles.
Then Mr. Black appears at the top of the stairs, a tiny package in his hands, and it all makes perfect sense. In one hand, tucked tightly against his chest is the smallest little bundle, a squeaking baby. Against his side, a smiling woman who beams up at him, the slightest hint of irritation on her lovely face as she looks from him to the baby.
He guides her down the stairs slowly as if he’s torn between making sure she’s okay and that the baby is safe as well.
This man is absolutely smitten with both of them.
She looks up, noticing me standing there for the first time. Awkwardly, I lift my hand and give her a little wave, feeling like a fool for invading their moment.
“Seriously?” she huffs. “You really just left her standing there in the middle of the room? You didn’t even offer her something to drink? Or a place to sit?”
“He was crying,” Mr. Black says like it explains everything.
It’s clear the man would ignore the world burning down to tend to his family, and honestly that’s how it should be. I’m not offended at all by his words. I smile at her.
Her eyes grow wide. “Please ignore my husband. He’s a neanderthal. I’m Anna.”
She slowly walks toward me, making it clear that she very recently had the baby. Anna holds her hand out to me.
I shake it once she makes it close enough. Mr. Black stays right beside her. I don’t know if he thinks I’m a threat to either of them, but the man isn’t taking any chances.
“Leighton Redmond.”
“Let me take him,” Anna says, her arms outstretched toward the tiny baby.
Mr. Black’s body shifts, the baby held a few inches higher.
“Deacon,” she snaps. “We talked about this.”
“He’s mine,” he growls, his voice a low rumble.
I bite my lips to hold back a chuckle.
“We’re not fighting over the baby. You have business to take care of. Hand him over.”
Deacon looks from the little boy and back to his wife twice before he concedes, and even as he passes the child to his wife, he looks pained in doing so.
“I need to feed him,” she says softly. “As soon as your milk comes in, you can take over doing that as well.”
He huffs, and this time, I can’t hold back my laughter.
He snaps his head up at me, confusion drawing his brows in as if he’s only now remembering that I’m still standing there.
“I’m thirsty,” Anna says softly. “Will you get me a drink?”
“Carrot juice,” Deacon says.
“Water,” Anna says as her nose scrunches up.
“Carrot juice is better for milk production.
“My milk production will be fine.” Anna sighs again. I get the feeling the woman is going to be doing it a lot around this man.
“My son is going to need a lot of milk.”
“Our son will get plenty. Water, please.”
He hovers for a moment longer, looking between the three of us before hastily making it out of the room.
“I knew parenting wasn’t going to be easy, but that man is exhausting.”
“First-time parents?”
“Not even forty-eight hours. Is it that easy to tell?”
“Less than two days?” I don’t bother to hide my shock. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. He’s the one who hasn’t slept. I think he’s terrified if he closes his eyes, it’s all going to disappear. Please forgive the caveman act. I could lie and say he normally isn’t like this, but he’s always a little high strung. It’s only gotten worse since I got pregnant, and he’s in DEFCON 1 since Jr. arrived.”
“Understandable.”
“He’s not going to be very focused today. So you’ll probably have to relay everything you guys talk about to either Pam back at the office or to one of the other guys.”
“Okay.” So long as it won’t be John, I’ll be fine.
“No,” Anna says, looking over my shoulder.
“It’s water.”
“It’s tinted orange.”
“It’s water,” Deacon argues.
“You spiked it with carrot juice. I’m not an idiot. Leighton, can you hold the baby? I’ll get my own water.”
Unsure how to really hold a baby as I’ve never done it before, I extend my arms, but Deacon is right there.
“I’ll hold him.”
Anna cradles the bundle back to her chest, eyes narrowed at her husband. “Step back.”
Like a sulking child, Deacon obeys her. I seriously love their dynamic. This tiny spitfire of a woman has this behemoth of a man wrapped around her little finger, and from looking at the spark in his tired eyes, he loves his position there. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, and I can feel the heat rolling off him, the fire in his blood heating the air around us. I take a step back, feeling like an intruder in their space.
