Only You
Page 9
I smiled. “You’ll figure it out.”
He exhaled in frustration but pulled the diaper out from beneath her, flipped it around, opened it up, checked the tabs, and pushed it underneath her little bottom all with one hand, still holding her by the ankles with the other. Then he looked at me. “Like this?”
“Yes, good job. The rest is easy. Let go of her legs, fold the top part up, peel back the tabs, and secure the sticky parts to the front.”
He did as I instructed, but the diaper was way too loose when he was done. I reached over and tightened up the tabs. “You want to make sure it’s snug enough, otherwise it will leak. Now get her legs back in her pajamas and snap them up.”
It took him a while, mostly because he was so tentative with her and she was so squirmy, but he managed. By the time her jammies were done up again, he was sweating. “Damn. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“I’m fucking roasting. Watch her for a second, okay? I have to take off my sweater.”
“Okay.” I made sure she stayed on the couch while Nate whipped off his sweater and tossed it aside. Beneath it he wore a white undershirt that hugged his muscular arms and chest. I let myself look for a moment, then refocused on Paisley, who was definitely working up to a big fuss. Getting to my feet, I scooped her up. “Let’s feed you, huh? Does that sound good?”
To Nate, I said, “Grab one of those bottles and the can of formula from the bag. I’ll show you how to feed her.”
“Okay.” He looked up at me from his seat on the couch. “Thank you. For being here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back.”
“It’s okay. You’ve gotten me out of a jam plenty of times.”
“This is more than a jam, Emme. And I was a total dick to you earlier.” He stood up. He stood close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Oh, God. I could smell him, and the combination of man and baby smell does things to the body of a woman my age. Things that make the blood run faster, the heart beat quicker, and the ovaries send confusing signals to various other parts of the female anatomy. Parts that harden and tingle. Parts that flutter and whoosh. Parts that swell and pulse. For a moment, all I wanted in the universe was for him to touch me. Kiss me. Want me.
Was I going insane?
Paisley began to cry. I took a step back and headed for the kitchen. “Come on. She’s hungry.”
It took Nate much longer than it would’ve taken me to make a bottle for her, and she cried the whole time he carefully measured and poured and added water and mixed it up, but I wanted him to do it on his own.
“Not too tight,” I warned him as he screwed on the cap, “or she won’t be able to get anything out.”
He immediately started loosening it.
“But not too loose, either, or it’ll drip all over the place.”
He grunted and tightened it a little before handing it to me.
I shook my head. “You have to warm it first,” I told him. “No, no, no, not in there,” I said as he popped the microwave door open. “Run the hot water on the tap and hold the bottle under it.”
He looked at me blankly. “How will I know when it’s warm?”
I shrugged. “You guess. Try 30 seconds, shake it up a little, and see if she takes it.”
Nate did as I asked, but after shaking it, he held it out to me. “I don’t know how,” he said.
I took the bottle from him, and asked him to follow me into the living room, where I sat down on the couch. “Hey, see if there’s a bib in the bag. You know what that is?”
“I think so.” He dug around in the bag until he found one, and managed to get it snapped behind her neck while I held her. In doing so, the back of his hand accidentally brushed against my breast. “Sorry,” he said, his cheeks going a little red.
“It’s okay. Now sit.” But my stupid nipple was tingling.
He hesitated, but eventually lowered himself to the couch, and I transferred the baby to his muscular arms. It was the first time he’d held her that way, and she looked so small against his chest. I wondered if he felt any tug of paternal affection, or if he was still too stunned to feel anything at all.
“Hold her with her head in your left elbow so you can feed her with your right hand,” I advised. When she was situated, I handed him the bottle. “Here you go. Tip it up gently at first in case the nipple is too fast.”
He looked at me curiously. “There’s such a thing as a fast nipple?”
“Only the rubber kind. Don’t get excited.”
For the first time since we’d discovered Paisley in the hall, he actually smiled. It didn’t last long, though, because he was so nervous about feeding her. But she sucked eagerly at the bottle and made contented little noises as she drank.
“Is this right? Am I doing it right?” he asked.
“You’re doing great. We’ll let her drink a couple ounces and then you can burp her.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
I grinned. “You’ll be fine.”
And he was—sort of.
He managed to balance her on his knee, her stomach braced on one hand as he rubbed her back to encourage a burp, exactly like I showed him. He learned how to hold her against his chest, her head over one shoulder, as he walked around the room patting her back. He even talked to her a little bit as he moved around the room. “Sorry I’m not much good at this stuff, Paisley. Maybe I’ll get better.”
When she finally let out a pretty good-sized belch, he looked over at me, shocked. “Was that her?”
I nodded from where I sat on the couch. “Yep. Good job. Want to see if she’ll take the last ounce?”
“Okay.”
But she wouldn’t, and Nate was frustrated. “She’s not eating it. Why won’t she eat it? What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said from beside him. “Babies don’t always finish the entire bottle.”
He set it aside and looked down at her for a moment. Her eyes were open and locked on his. “Do you think she’s cute?”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Her hair is funny. Like an old man’s.”
I laughed. “It will grow.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby before. If I did…it was a long time ago.” He spoke quietly, and Paisley seemed enthralled by the sound of his voice.
“I think she likes you.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
I poked his shoulder, and watched them taking each other in, both father and daughter wide-eyed and amazed. It was so sweet, my throat started to tighten. I could sense the bond taking hold and felt in my gut Nate would grow to love her.
Suddenly Paisley’s face turned very red, and she gave a little grunt.
“What’s she doing? Why is her face that color?” Nate sounded alarmed. “Is she choking?”
I smiled. “She’s fine.”
“But what’s with—” He stopped talking and sniffed. “Jesus fucking Christ, what is that smell?”
“It’s baby poop,” I said, laughing.
“It can’t be. There’s no way.” He inhaled, and his handsome features contorted. “Oh my God, that’s so bad. How can something so tiny create such a disgusting stench? We should change her.” He stood up and looked around. “Where’s the bag?”
“You don’t want to change her yet, Nate. Trust me. She’s not done.”
He looked down at me, aghast. “How long will it go on?”
I shrugged. “A few minutes, maybe.”
“Oh my God.” His eyes closed. “I don’t think I can stand it.”
“You can put her in the car seat if you want.” I reached out. “Or I can hold her.”
“No.” He straightened his shoulders and sat down again. “No, I can take it.”
“Very alpha male of you.”
He nudged my leg with his. “Thanks.”
But his confidence was shattered when he went to change her dirty diaper. He must have gone through fifty wipes and she still wasn’t clean, he got poop all over her pajamas, and she screamed the whole time. Finally, I took over, but even when she was clean and dry and wearing a new onesie and sleeper, she refused to calm down.
He exhaled in frustration but pulled the diaper out from beneath her, flipped it around, opened it up, checked the tabs, and pushed it underneath her little bottom all with one hand, still holding her by the ankles with the other. Then he looked at me. “Like this?”
“Yes, good job. The rest is easy. Let go of her legs, fold the top part up, peel back the tabs, and secure the sticky parts to the front.”
He did as I instructed, but the diaper was way too loose when he was done. I reached over and tightened up the tabs. “You want to make sure it’s snug enough, otherwise it will leak. Now get her legs back in her pajamas and snap them up.”
It took him a while, mostly because he was so tentative with her and she was so squirmy, but he managed. By the time her jammies were done up again, he was sweating. “Damn. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“I’m fucking roasting. Watch her for a second, okay? I have to take off my sweater.”
“Okay.” I made sure she stayed on the couch while Nate whipped off his sweater and tossed it aside. Beneath it he wore a white undershirt that hugged his muscular arms and chest. I let myself look for a moment, then refocused on Paisley, who was definitely working up to a big fuss. Getting to my feet, I scooped her up. “Let’s feed you, huh? Does that sound good?”
To Nate, I said, “Grab one of those bottles and the can of formula from the bag. I’ll show you how to feed her.”
“Okay.” He looked up at me from his seat on the couch. “Thank you. For being here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back.”
“It’s okay. You’ve gotten me out of a jam plenty of times.”
“This is more than a jam, Emme. And I was a total dick to you earlier.” He stood up. He stood close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Oh, God. I could smell him, and the combination of man and baby smell does things to the body of a woman my age. Things that make the blood run faster, the heart beat quicker, and the ovaries send confusing signals to various other parts of the female anatomy. Parts that harden and tingle. Parts that flutter and whoosh. Parts that swell and pulse. For a moment, all I wanted in the universe was for him to touch me. Kiss me. Want me.
Was I going insane?
Paisley began to cry. I took a step back and headed for the kitchen. “Come on. She’s hungry.”
It took Nate much longer than it would’ve taken me to make a bottle for her, and she cried the whole time he carefully measured and poured and added water and mixed it up, but I wanted him to do it on his own.
“Not too tight,” I warned him as he screwed on the cap, “or she won’t be able to get anything out.”
He immediately started loosening it.
“But not too loose, either, or it’ll drip all over the place.”
He grunted and tightened it a little before handing it to me.
I shook my head. “You have to warm it first,” I told him. “No, no, no, not in there,” I said as he popped the microwave door open. “Run the hot water on the tap and hold the bottle under it.”
He looked at me blankly. “How will I know when it’s warm?”
I shrugged. “You guess. Try 30 seconds, shake it up a little, and see if she takes it.”
Nate did as I asked, but after shaking it, he held it out to me. “I don’t know how,” he said.
I took the bottle from him, and asked him to follow me into the living room, where I sat down on the couch. “Hey, see if there’s a bib in the bag. You know what that is?”
“I think so.” He dug around in the bag until he found one, and managed to get it snapped behind her neck while I held her. In doing so, the back of his hand accidentally brushed against my breast. “Sorry,” he said, his cheeks going a little red.
“It’s okay. Now sit.” But my stupid nipple was tingling.
He hesitated, but eventually lowered himself to the couch, and I transferred the baby to his muscular arms. It was the first time he’d held her that way, and she looked so small against his chest. I wondered if he felt any tug of paternal affection, or if he was still too stunned to feel anything at all.
“Hold her with her head in your left elbow so you can feed her with your right hand,” I advised. When she was situated, I handed him the bottle. “Here you go. Tip it up gently at first in case the nipple is too fast.”
He looked at me curiously. “There’s such a thing as a fast nipple?”
“Only the rubber kind. Don’t get excited.”
For the first time since we’d discovered Paisley in the hall, he actually smiled. It didn’t last long, though, because he was so nervous about feeding her. But she sucked eagerly at the bottle and made contented little noises as she drank.
“Is this right? Am I doing it right?” he asked.
“You’re doing great. We’ll let her drink a couple ounces and then you can burp her.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
I grinned. “You’ll be fine.”
And he was—sort of.
He managed to balance her on his knee, her stomach braced on one hand as he rubbed her back to encourage a burp, exactly like I showed him. He learned how to hold her against his chest, her head over one shoulder, as he walked around the room patting her back. He even talked to her a little bit as he moved around the room. “Sorry I’m not much good at this stuff, Paisley. Maybe I’ll get better.”
When she finally let out a pretty good-sized belch, he looked over at me, shocked. “Was that her?”
I nodded from where I sat on the couch. “Yep. Good job. Want to see if she’ll take the last ounce?”
“Okay.”
But she wouldn’t, and Nate was frustrated. “She’s not eating it. Why won’t she eat it? What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said from beside him. “Babies don’t always finish the entire bottle.”
He set it aside and looked down at her for a moment. Her eyes were open and locked on his. “Do you think she’s cute?”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Her hair is funny. Like an old man’s.”
I laughed. “It will grow.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby before. If I did…it was a long time ago.” He spoke quietly, and Paisley seemed enthralled by the sound of his voice.
“I think she likes you.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
I poked his shoulder, and watched them taking each other in, both father and daughter wide-eyed and amazed. It was so sweet, my throat started to tighten. I could sense the bond taking hold and felt in my gut Nate would grow to love her.
Suddenly Paisley’s face turned very red, and she gave a little grunt.
“What’s she doing? Why is her face that color?” Nate sounded alarmed. “Is she choking?”
I smiled. “She’s fine.”
“But what’s with—” He stopped talking and sniffed. “Jesus fucking Christ, what is that smell?”
“It’s baby poop,” I said, laughing.
“It can’t be. There’s no way.” He inhaled, and his handsome features contorted. “Oh my God, that’s so bad. How can something so tiny create such a disgusting stench? We should change her.” He stood up and looked around. “Where’s the bag?”
“You don’t want to change her yet, Nate. Trust me. She’s not done.”
He looked down at me, aghast. “How long will it go on?”
I shrugged. “A few minutes, maybe.”
“Oh my God.” His eyes closed. “I don’t think I can stand it.”
“You can put her in the car seat if you want.” I reached out. “Or I can hold her.”
“No.” He straightened his shoulders and sat down again. “No, I can take it.”
“Very alpha male of you.”
He nudged my leg with his. “Thanks.”
But his confidence was shattered when he went to change her dirty diaper. He must have gone through fifty wipes and she still wasn’t clean, he got poop all over her pajamas, and she screamed the whole time. Finally, I took over, but even when she was clean and dry and wearing a new onesie and sleeper, she refused to calm down.
