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“Hannah?”
She blinked. Ronnie stood before her, holding out a fresh glass of wine. Shoot, when had she come back in the room?
“You okay? You kinda zoned out there.”
Shaking her head. Hannah accepted the glass. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. Thanks for this.” She brought the glass to her lips. The wine was cool and tart with an underlying sweetness. Refreshing.
“No worries. Just wanted to introduce you to another brother—there are too many—and my adorable baby niece.”
Hannah followed Ronnie’s gaze toward the front door. Oh, my God, JP stood there with Kayla in his arms. She sucked in a breath then began a violent coughing fit as the wine slipped down her windpipe.
Jagger pounded her on the back. “Whoa. Easy there, hon.”
She lifted a hand to ward him off. The man was going to send her flying across the room.
“Jesus, Jag, don’t beat her to death.” Ronnie pulled the wine glass from Hannah’s lurching hand before the liquid sloshed all over Mickie’s lovely couch.
Finally, she was able to take a breath. “Sorry,” she croaked as she lifted her gaze.
After anticipating his arrival so vigilantly, how on earth had she missed it?
She stared at Kayla as though frozen in blazing headlights. Had the baby grown in the time Hannah hadn’t seen her? It was hard to be sure since she looked so tiny in the tall man’s arms. Her heart squeezed. God, she’d missed those chubby cheeks.
“I know I’m shockingly handsome, but I didn’t mean to kill you,” JP said, his voice laced with humor. The comment yanked her gaze from Kayla’s to his face.
It was like being punched in the stomach, or at least what she assumed it would feel like. Air rushed from her lungs in a whoosh as her insides clenched.
The man was…stunning. Tall, lean but muscular, and heavily tattooed. Standing there with her niece in his arms, he was the most attractive man she’d ever met.
And that was a huge problem.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THIS WAS THE woman Ronnie and Mickie had hounded him about all day? The one they wanted him to meet? The one saving their asses from the overwhelming world of business financing and accounting? The woman Mickie described as his type? He nearly snorted. His type was tits and a pussy. No one could accuse him of being picky.
Fine, he’d admit those big blue eyes, golden hair, and her sinfully sexy, plump-lipped mouth held a particular draw. He’d even go so far as to admit he’d always had more fun with blondes, but why the hell did they think he’d go for this one? From the moment he arrived, she’d been gaping at him and Kayla like she’d never seen a tiny human before. Well, after she got over that choking episode.
Hello, awkward.
Did he have something on his face? Fuck, for all he knew, he’d gotten a smear of baby shit across his forehead after changing Kayla’s last diaper. That nuclear bomb had been horrifying.
Horrifying.
The child probably needed a digestive specialist. That amount and stench of the toxic sludge that came out of her couldn’t be normal. Wasn’t there something in the baby rule book about going easy on a first-time father?
Apparently not.
Thankfully he’d been alone for the first few diaper changes. No one would ever have to know he’d watched no less than four YouTube tutorials and still had to change his clothes a few times. It was a secret that would stay between him and Kayla forever.
“Hannah, this is John Paul, but call him JP. Unless you want to annoy him, which is always fun,” Ronnie said, oblivious to the way her new friend gawked at him.
Such a comedian, his sister.
“JP, this is our new best friend, Hannah.” Ronnie walked to him and tickled Kayla’s round tummy. “And this little cutie,” she said in that high-pitched voice women loved to use on babies, “is Miss Kayla, the sweetest baby girl in the world. Oh, yes, she is.”
Hannah smiled, but it didn’t reach those baby blues. “Nice to meet you.” Though she spoke to him, her attention had shifted back to Kayla. What was her deal? Fuck, she better not be the type to judge a man with lots of tattoos as an unfit father by the way he looked. He had enough internal doubt and didn’t need some Karen judging him.
Maybe she was one of those baby fever women who dreamed of nothing more than popping out a hundred kids. Or, perhaps she viewed him as a fish flopping out of water. One who had no idea what the hell he was doing and hadn’t spent more than a few hours holding his seven-month-old daughter. If so, she’d be wise to buy a lottery ticket.
His vote went for the baby-fever chick. There was too much mushy softness in the way she watched Kayla. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, this one might try to scoop him up, marry him, and shackle him to her for the rest of their miserable days.
