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Then again… my new job is holding the desk in the new shop next to the original Damage Control. Rafe has agreed I could keep the baby there with me some of the time, if he’s not too noisy. I’m reluctant to let him out of my sight for long.
That was before we found out about Zane’s past and the bastard who abused him being loose in our town, but I assume this plan hasn’t changed.
And the wedding is coming up, soon. Since Dylan proposed to Tessa, I’ve been dying to ask her whether that means we’ll have a triple wedding. Us, Tyler and Erin, then her and Dylan. It would be fun.
The baby gurgles, and I make little squeaky noises at him. I imagine this is how mom cats communicate with their kittens. Zay wags his arms and gurgles again.
At least this little guy is happy, and healthy, and loved, and the thought of kids b
eing hurt when I could prevent it from happening is a sick twist in my stomach.
“What are we going to do?” I finally ask Rafe who hasn’t spoken a word since we left the station. “I can hear you thinking, you know.”
He turns to me, flashes me a half smile that barely reveals one of his sexy dimples. “How to pleasure you tonight.”
A rush of heat floods my face. That’s not what I expected to hear.
And the excitement I feel is a new thing. After giving birth, I didn’t want to even think about sex for the next ten years. During this past week, though, I got some of my interest back, especially when Rafe kissed me and touched me until I came apart in his hands.
It was so good. I’d forgotten how good it can be between us.
“And how will you do that?” I decide to go with the flow. If this is meant as a distraction, if he doesn’t want to talk about Zane right now, that’s fine with me.
“I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, future Mrs. Vestri. I’ve been dying to taste you for the past two months.”
I duck my head, cheeks burning. “Have you?”
“Yeah.” He leans in, nuzzles my neck. “Just wait and see.”
***
Zay is playing with the milk bottle, trying to grab it with his tiny hands. Early on it was decided I don’t have enough milk. The doctor said that’s quite common. Formula is okay, she explained to me. Maybe it’s not as good as mother’s milk, but the main thing is that the baby is growing strong and healthy.
And he sure is.
Milk is dribbling out the side of his mouth. I reach for the Kleenex, and Rafe passes one to me.
“Let me hold him,” he says, and wordlessly I pass him the bundle and the milk bottle.
I love watching him with the baby. Rafe is a natural, and he always looks so much calmer and happier when he’s holding Zay.
Like now. “How’s my boy?” he whispers and gives Zay a full-megawatt grin, both dimples making an appearance. “Did you have a good day? Did you miss us?”
God, he’s gorgeous.
Zay is, too, of course. But Zay is rather cute and chubby. My baby daddy, though…
God. With his golden mane tucked behind his ears, the silver hoops in them glinting, the complex tattoos covering the muscular arm that’s gently cradling our baby… He’s the sexiest boy in the world.
Not for the first time I wonder how I won the lottery in the men department—because he’s not only the sexiest, but also the kindest and best of guys—when my life before him seemed more like a cosmic joke.
Done in very bad humor. I mean, I’d grown up with an alcoholic mom who chose abusive lover after abusive lover, so that I’d felt unsafe all my life living with her. And then I’d had a killer on my tail.
Until Rafe. He changed everything for me.
“When will I see your wedding dress?” He hasn’t looked up from the baby, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he knows I’ve been ogling him.
“On our wedding day. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see it before that?”
