Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers #5) - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,63
“Dan the Man has arrived.” She slid into the chair right next to Declan. “Mom’s so excited to be in on this surgery. She said watching Dr. Hewitt work is like taking a master class.”
He smiled, proud of Evie, as always. “It’s good to know Judah’s in such talented hands.”
Trace made his way over, his muscular, tattoo-covered arms stretched down to let Danny grip his index fingers and toddle along, half on his own power, half by using his dad for balance. His dark eyes darted around the room with intelligence and curiosity, his mop of nearly black hair already a tousled mess, as if to announce this kid played hard.
“What happens if you let him go?” Declan asked, getting a wide grin from Trace in response.
“Well, looks like he’s got his eye on you, so…” Trace straightened and slid his fingers out of Danny’s hands, and the little guy’s eyes instantly popped with the taste of freedom. In a flash, he started off on his own, waddling a little on fat, short legs, but headed right toward Declan at full speed.
He shrieked and slapped his hands on Declan’s legs, fell down in a heap, and threw his head back with an infectious laugh, making the whole waiting room chuckle.
“Whoa, there, little fella.” Declan reached down and scooped him up, setting him on his lap.
He giggled, then turned to Trace, arms out.
“You stay with Uncle Dec while I get coffee,” Trace said. “Show him how you can stand on your head.”
“He can?”
“New trick,” Trace said.
Immediately, Danny slid down to the ground, folding in half, his diapered butt in the air. He turned to Declan with an upside-down, toothless grin, obviously waiting for praise.
“Good job, crazypants.”
Pru clapped. “Way to go, Danny!”
Yiayia leaned in. “This is all very good if he wants to work at SeaWorld as a trained seal.”
Laughing, Declan patted his lap. “Sit with me, young man, and I’ll tell you how to be a firefighter. When we say stand on your head, we don’t mean fold in half. We mean a headstand.”
He climbed up on Declan’s lap, suddenly fascinated.
“I’ll take him, Uncle Declan,” Pru offered.
“No, he’s fine.” With all the many hands in his family, it was rare that he got to hold any of the babies, and he kind of wanted to really pay attention to how it felt. “Aren’t you, Danny boy?” He bounced his knee, giving the kid a ride and getting another giggle, this one complete with a slap on Declan’s chest. “You like that?”
“He likes attention.” Pru leaned in, tapping Danny’s button of a nose. “Don’t you, wild thing?”
He lifted both hands straight out. “Pwuuuuuu.”
Declan cracked up. “I’m guessing that’s Pru.”
“Oh yes, his vocabulary is growing every day. He says cookie…”
“Coo-coo!”
“And Meatball.”
“Mmmbah!”
“And there’s Aunt Colleen and Ella.”
Danny whipped around when he realized Declan’s mother was coming into the waiting room with Ella.
“Smewwie!” he called.
“Even he calls her Smella,” Declan said on a laugh, giving a nod to the new arrivals.
Ella and Mom came over to join the family that had essentially filled most of the waiting room, exchanging more kisses, hugs, and updates on when the surgery had started.
“How’d you both get out of the store?” Gramma Finnie asked.
“Darcy’s covering,” Ella said, bending over to greet the baby on Declan’s lap. “Hi, Danny Fo-Fanny.” She looked up to meet Declan’s gaze. “Lookin’ pretty natural with a kiddo on your lap, Big D.” She leaned all the way over, slipping her hands around Danny to lift him up, whispering in Declan’s ear while she did. “Does that mean you’re considering the suggestion?”
He answered with a narrow-eyed warning that demanded silence.
But Ella laughed and hoisted the baby in the air. “Wanna take an airplane ride?” As she zoomed off with him and Pru followed, his mother took the empty seat next to him.
“You didn’t have to come, Mom,” he said after they exchanged a quick hug. “It’s sweet that you did.”
“I wanted to be here,” she said, brushing back a lock of slightly graying brown hair that had escaped from the waist-long braid that she’d had since Declan was a kid. As usual, Colleen Mahoney wore a Bone Appetit T-shirt over jeans, the antithesis of glamour. “I don’t get to see you that often, and you slipped out of Sunday dinner last week before we had a chance to catch up.”
“True,” he agreed. “But I promise I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Will you bring Evie?”
He inched back at the question, remembering Evie’s hesitancy last night, especially when it