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“Hey, a group of us single dads get together once a week to play darts or pool or watch a game. You should join us Saturday. We’ll be at Chance Cordova’s. Have you met him?”
“He’s the marketing guy for the brewery, right?”
“That’s the guy. His daughter is thirteen.”
I grimaced at the thought of raising a teen girl. “I thought a baby was difficult.”
“Tell me about it.” Max glanced down at Daniel, who was starting to stir. “You want to give me your number, and I can send his address?”
He pulled his phone out, and I rattled off my number. We said goodbye. Then Max took off with Daniel at an impressive pace. I gave my lungs and legs a pep talk and started toward home, thinking this get-together sounded like exactly what I needed. A single dad posse.
Maybe if I made more friends and got out of the house more frequently, I’d have an easier time keeping my mind off my nanny.
CHAPTER18
KNOX
When I let myself into my house a few minutes later, the place was full of life.
Bacon was sizzling on the stove. Quincy was whisking eggs and humming along to the kids’ music that played from the speaker. Juniper was on her back on a blanket on the living room floor with her brand-new play gym arching over her.
“Hey,” Quincy said, drawing my attention back to her.
This time I couldn’t help but study her more carefully. Her golden hair was pulled into a neat ponytail high on her head, the strands looking silky and smooth. Her face was makeup-free and fresh-looking, her eyes bright even though I knew for a fact she hadn’t slept enough. As my gaze roved downward, I realized she wore my flannel shirt. It reached to her thighs, which were bare, and I couldn’t help wondering if she had anything on underneath it.
I wanted to be annoyed at the familiarity she assumed by pulling my shirt on, but I couldn’t. She looked hot, with only two buttons fastened, the shoulders hanging low on her upper arms, the sleeves rolled a few times, and her tempting legs bare down to a pair of fur-lined socks. My dick went hard in no time flat.
Fuck.
“Hi.” I made myself smile at her but moved through the kitchen, toward Juniper. She was content to explore her toy, her eyes focused on a plush dog that dangled from the middle. Instead of picking her up, I lay down on my back next to her, our heads side by side, me urging my hard-on to wither away. “Hey, June. Pretty cool toy you have here.”
As I looked at her instead of the toy, she turned her head to me, smiled, then rolled her whole body toward me. My heart expanded in my chest, an honest-to-God physical sensation. I never understood the power of a tiny baby before. She had me wrapped around her pinky finger in no time. I kissed her nose, and she let out a giggle as her tiny hand explored my face.
My body back under control now, I rolled toward her and put my palm on her fuzzy-pajama-covered side, covering from her diaper to her armpit. It made me marvel yet again how someone so small could have such a profound effect on me.
For the next few minutes, my daughter and I lay on the floor playing—exploring the different dangly toys on the gym, doing peekaboo, kicking our legs up toward the ceiling. When I mimicked her, she stared, then smiled, then did it again.
“Breakfast is ready,” Quincy eventually called out.
I sat up, tickled Juniper’s tummy, and reveled in her resulting laugh. “I assume Miss Smiles has eaten?”
“Bright and early,” Quincy answered.
I leaned over and blew a raspberry on Juniper’s belly, then kissed her nose before pushing my exhausted body to a stand. When I headed to the island, my daughter went back to the dangling toys. Quincy had said repeatedly what a good baby she was and had told me stories about how her middle sibling, Brayden, had never been willing to entertain himself. It made me all the more thankful that Juniper was content so much of the time. The more gently I was eased into this parenthood thing, the better.
Quincy set two plates at our places, both with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She’d added cheese to the eggs the way I liked. Any other day, that would make me happy. Today it felt intimate and made it hard to breathe.
“Thank you for cooking,” I managed, and even I could hear how formal it sounded. I couldn’t seem to help it. I was holding myself in check, refusing to succumb to her allure.
She slid onto the stool next to mine. “I knew you’d be like this.”
“Like what?”
She broke off the end of a bacon slice and tossed it into her mouth, then grinned at me as she chewed. “Grave and regretful.” She made her voice deeper than usual; I supposed to mimic me.
I scooped a bite of eggs in, trying to figure out how to reply. I hadn’t counted on her being so awake and direct when I got back. I’d pictured her in the nursery, sleepy and peaceful and feeding Juniper, allowing me to get my thoughts better organized. I should’ve known by now that Quincy rarely did what I expected.
The food tasted fantastic, as it usually did when she cooked, but my appetite waned after the first two bites. She wanted to discuss this now, it seemed.
