but I figured you wouldn’t mind too much.” Because it was in the top bag, I withdrew the little plaid-skirted outfit and shirt that said Auntie Claus on the front. Immediately, his expression softened. “Because I am like her aunt. Right? So, she should have cute duds proclaiming it.”
“Her aunt?” he asked softly, his words nearly sucked away by the cold wind.
I swallowed over the dryness in my throat. “Yeah, I mean, that’s sort of what I am. I guess.”
His mouth tightened and I would’ve sworn he was going to speak, but then he jerked a thumb at the full trunk. “Why don’t you go in, and I’ll take care of this stuff?”
“You’re not allowed to toss it the minute I’m out of sight.”
“I won’t.” He didn’t so much as smile. “Go on in. The baby shouldn’t be alone.”
Nodding, I grabbed a couple of bags despite his grumbling and headed up the steps to the wraparound porch. I looked back to find him bent over the trunk as he drew out items, his shoulders seeming much more weighed down than usual.
I should probably pay him back for some of this stuff. It wasn’t his fault he made me think inappropriate thoughts about him sometimes. He didn’t actively work at being hot.
Then I remembered that he’d slept with some woman last winter and everything inside me knotted up. Unfair or not, I was hurt. That I didn’t have any right to be didn’t kill my feelings. But I could try to be the bigger person.
“Go on, Bee,” he called over the gusty breeze. “It’s cold out here, and your coat is thin.”
Even with the baby inside, he still thought of me. So, maybe it was his fault he was hot—because a big part of his attractiveness was the sweet streak he didn’t reveal to many people. Mostly just his family and I.
“Going.”
I elbowed my way inside and carefully lowered the bags to the floor in the front hall. The place was suspiciously silent. Undoing my coat, I hurried into the living room to find Sadie stretched out on the floor beside the boat, her silky golden head tipped over the side as if she was guarding her as she slept. And boy, the baby was out like a proverbial light, the smallest smile on those perfect rosebud lips of hers.
My heart turned over so hard that I pressed my hand against my chest. All kinds of motherly impulses flooded me. I tried not to pay attention to them most of the time. Hell, most of the time, I didn’t even have them. In a town full of babies like Crescent Cove, it could be hard to be childless, but sometimes, it was also a relief. I could play with and cuddle kids as often as I wanted without having to be a caretaker while I was still young and free.
At least that was what I told myself when the familiar sadness crept in during those nights I couldn’t sleep.
My mistake was letting that impulse drive me closer to the boat. Sadie roused from the most complete sleep ever and bounded to her feet to run over to me, which somehow woke the baby. She immediately started to howl.
Sadie glanced between us as if she didn’t know whom to go to. So, I made it easy on her and picked up the baby, wrinkling my nose at the obvious source of her distress.
I didn’t want to think about how long she might’ve slept in her own mess. But after tonight, that wouldn’t be happening again.
Well, as much as I could help with that anyway.
Jared picked that moment to come inside, bringing in a gust of snowy wind and setting off the dog. Sadie let out a rapid series of barks as she decided tonight was a great time to leap on her owner and knock him to the floor with his three-million bags.
“I guess I overshopped,” I said semi-apologetically, toting the baby over to where her father was sprawled on the floor with packages spilling in every direction and a sixty-pound dog standing on his chest while she frantically licked his face.
The baby’s cries quieted, and she let out a sound crossed between a hiccup and a giggle as she watched Jared try to hold off Sadie’s abundant loving.
“Did you just laugh at your daddy? He’s getting tongue-kissed by yet another adoring girl.” Without thinking, I nuzzled my face into her soft curls, and she made that same adorable sound again. “You