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“No ear infections?” I ask, wanting to keep him talking so he doesn’t get lost in his thoughts. “Ear infections usually cause fever.”
“No.”
“I had tons of ear infections as a kid. Eventually I had to get tubes put in my ears.”
“Is that surgical?”
I want to reach out and calm him with my hand on his arm because he sounds incredibly fearful, but I know the touch wouldn’t be received well. Before I can focus on why I want to touch him when I try my best to avoid most human contact, I speak again.
“Doctors would never recommend tubes for a baby that has never had an ear infection before now. That’s for chronic infections.”
“Oh good,” he says, sighing in relief. “What else causes a fever?”
“You’re putting me on the spot.” I chuckle. “I’m not a doctor but lots of things I guess. Teething can cause a fever. Is she teething?”
His face scrunches, telling me he doesn’t have a clue.
“Is she mouthing everything? Chewing on stuff? Having trouble sleeping?”
“She’s a great sleeper, but yeah. I mean, she’s been chewing on stuff since she discovered her hands.”
“That may be it,” I agree.
Conversation drops off as quickly as it started as we turn on to the road leading to the clubhouse. Several more minutes of silence pass before we pull into the parking lot.
He jumps out quickly, hurrying to the front door before spinning back around and walking toward me.
“Shit. Sorry,” he says as he practically blocks me before I can climb down.
I hold my hands up and out of his way, unsure of his intent. “What?”
He takes an immediate step back. “I was going to help you down. Didn’t mean to invade your space like that. It’s muscle memory from helping—I gotta go.”
And then he’s gone.
I don’t know whether to grin or cringe with his reaction, but at least he doesn’t seem pissed as he rushes up the front steps and opens the door. I quicken my steps, noticing him standing just inside with the door open for me. For a man that snapped at me more than once without hesitation, he sure does have those manners I thought he was lacking.
“I’ve got it. Go,” I urge as I approach.
He doesn’t listen, which means we walk into the daycare together, drawing every eye in the room. But Harley is too concerned, looking toward Misty who is rocking a fussy Aria.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, just fussy,” Misty says as she stands from the rocking chair and hands Aria over to her daddy. “Did you notice anything wrong with her eyes this morning?”
“They were a little crusty,” he says.
“She may have pink eye,” Misty says.
“That causes a fever?” I ask, drawing both of their attention.
“Anything can cause a fever in a baby, really. Em made a doctor’s appointment for her. They’re expecting you.” Misty grabs the strap of a diaper bag, handing it to me. “Go with him in case he needs some help.”
Harley doesn’t argue as he strides to the door. I follow closely behind, standing outside the SUV as he straps the baby in.
“Misty wanted—”
“You’re coming, right?” His eyes look a little panicked when he asks.
“Sure,” I tell him before climbing inside.
Chapter 12
Harley
“If she has pink eye, she can’t go back to daycare,” Ali says as we drive to the pediatrician’s office.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I didn’t even think about that.”
“If you have things you need to do, I can watch her. It just can’t be around the others.”
“It’s not that. I didn’t think about you being here.”
“Is it a problem? I can find a ride back once we get there. Boomer can—”
“No,” I hiss, my frustration growing more with the mention of his name. “I mean, I didn’t think about you being exposed. I’m sorry.”
She chuckles, and it’s a light sound that manages to lift some of my worry. “I was with her this morning, and avoiding pink eye is pretty easy so long as you don’t wipe your eyes before washing your hands. Babies just don’t know that yet.”
“Still,” I grumble. “If you get it, I’ll feel bad.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assures me.
“Just talking about it makes my eyes itchy,” I say with a grin.
Aria has stopped crying, the rumble of the SUV and the movement of the vehicle calming her. It helps me to focus on driving, with her not being as agitated as she was when we first left, and that’s a must, considering the precious cargo I’m responsible for right now.
Ali grabs the diaper bag while I pull Aria out of the car seat, as gently as possible, and we walk into the office together.
“I have an appointment for Aria Cobreski,” I tell the woman behind the desk.
She gives me a gentle smile then she frowns down at Aria. “A little under the weather today?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Since she’s sleeping, why doesn’t your wife fill out the paperwork?” she asks, holding a clipboard in Ali’s direction.
