Chapter Thirty-Six
Booker
Two weeks later
A cry woke Booker, and he rolled off the bed, even before his eyes were fully open. His brain had become attuned to the sound of his daughter's distress. He’d not even taken two steps in the dim light coming through the open door leading into the nursery before he heard Frey moving behind him. “It’s my turn, stay in bed.”
Receiving a grunted response, Booker chuckled and headed through the open door. They were getting there with a routine as much as anyone could with a baby. At just five weeks old, she’d turned everyone’s life upside down. Popi was in his absolute element. Booker was discovering a side to his dad he’d never seen before, a softness that gave all his brothers cause to pause occasionally .
The low light reflected rainbows over the crib, guiding him. Booker had purposely left Frey and Lane to the conversation about having Emmy in bed with them. Whatever Lane had said had persuaded Frey to set up the crib in the room that had a conjoining door. The door never got shut, but she was in her own room. Booker was still undecided how he felt about that. It had taken three days before Frey had seen it as beneficial, given it meant they weren’t both awake all night. Frey’s emotional outbursts had decreased now he was actually getting some sleep. It seemed he could be as cranky as Emmy, though Booker would never say that aloud. He liked his balls where they were.
His nose wrinkled at the smell as he reached the crib, knowing exactly why Emmy had woken only an hour after her last feed. The girl was a poop factory. So far, she’d managed to poop on everyone except Silas and Jupiter. They all had gone through retching over what his little girl could produce at some point, except Jupiter, who seemed to have some sort or superpower when it came to diapers and poop.
He bent over the crib and the low light showed Emmy’s red and screwed-up face, fists waving in the air at the injustice of a poopy bottom. His heart thudded painfully as he picked her up and soothed her before heading to the changing bench that Lane had fitted for their return home.
“What’s all this fussin’ ‘bout, hey? Daddy is here. You don’t need to be getting all upset.” He kissed her forehead before he laid her down, the cries now more sniffles as she reached up, trying to grab for his beard. It was her most favorite thing to do, and it melted Booker’s heart every damn time. He was a total sucker for her.
With shallow breathing, he undid the poppers and released a relieved sigh at the lack of poop seepage past the diaper. Something else that Emmy was great at was spreading the love beyond the diaper. Only the day before, she’d gotten poop all the way up her back to her neck. He’d not noticed when he’d picked her up. A full body shudder followed the memory as he took one big deep breath and held it as he peeled back the diaper.
He worked fast; the practice was definitely helping. Three minutes later and with only one extra breath, he fastened the clean diaper, slipping her all-in-one back in place and doing up the poppers. “There, see? All done, and Daddy didn’t retch once,” he murmured softly, lifting her back into his arms.
Emmy’s eyelids drooped, so he lifted her hand and helped to put her thumb into her mouth. Another trick Popi had shown them. No longer was Emmy unhappy at the lack of their fingers in her mouth when she could suck her own. She made suckling noises as he stood next to the crib, rocking her while he hummed softly.
Frey liked to sing to her, but Booker wouldn’t torment his daughter with his voice. He’d never win any awards, whereas Frey had a sweet voice that Booker and his bear side loved to listen to.
He carried on humming long past the time Emmy fell asleep. He was coming to cherish these quiet moments with her, despite it being in the middle of the night. He enjoyed not having to compete with work and the general busyness of life or the others wanting some Emmy time. What made it perfect was when Frey was right there with him.
They were a unit, and things just worked. Their lives were much like Popi’s rota split in three. Work, where they spent their day cramming in as much of the work stuff as they could, so they each were able to take an hour to spend time with Emmy. And alright, he’d admit that they both sometimes eked that out with quick visits they both made to check she was okay. They were making the necessity of parenting and being in the office, work.
When home, his brothers had all bitched about helping out, but ultimately, they’d all stepped up. Jupiter was the surprise, as he was the one who gravitated towards Emmy most frequently, especially at feeding times. It was bizarre to see when Jupiter had only ever been interested in fucking.
The nights remained a bone of contention between Popi and Frey. As yet, Frey wasn’t ready to allow Emmy to even go one floor down and sleep in the space Popi had created in his suite for Emmy. It didn’t matter how persistent Popi was with the offers or how beautiful the crib was. Booker got it on one level, but lying next to Frey in bed night after night, Booker was struggling to keep his hands to himself, since Frey had told him he was ready for more. There just had not been the right moment, despite Frey being a snuggler.
His fox to Booker’s bear, they’d found their connection easily and the big furry rug Popi had placed in their bedroom was a perfect spot for that. But as yet, they’d not gotten further than kisses and once or twice, some rolling around on the bed playing before Emmy interrupted them .
It was torture. Booker was being reasonable. However, he was constantly reminding himself that no matter what he wanted, things would happen when the time was right. Booker’s reaction to Frey was getting harder to conceal when he wandered about wearing only a towel around his slim hips. Twice this week, Booker had darted out of the room before he did something. Fuck, they’d been close calls. Frey smelled so delicious, but of late, it was like salmon to his bear, far too tempting.
“Is she okay?” Frey murmured sleepily.
Booker glanced over at the disheveled man walking towards them, cracking an enormous yawn and pushing his bangs from out of his eyes.
“She’s good, just needed a diaper change.” He kept his voice low. “I was just making sure she was asleep before I popped her back in the crib.”
Frey’s smile was all knowing as he met his gaze. “She looks asleep to me.”
He blushed and managed not to squirm before he lowered Emmy back into the crib, careful not to jostle her and dislodge the thumb from her mouth. He only let go of his breath when he rose back up. “She’s so stinkin’ cute.”
Frey knocked Booker’s arm. “Less of the stinking.”
He resisted arguing and took Frey’s hand to lead him back into their bedroom, only once looking back before heading for the bed. “It’s three thirty,” he tugged back the covers, waiting for Frey to slide in before he climbed in after him, feeling for where he was so as not to squash him, “we might be lucky, and she’ll let us sleep till six.”
Frey came to rest his head on Booker’s chest, then he squirmed until he was all but plastered to Booker’s side. A thigh came over his, close enough to his balls that Booker had to think about smelly poop to prevent a growing problem.
“Let’s hope. We’ve got a full day. Lane is going to come collect Emmy late afternoon and take her home as we’ve that dinner with the buyers.”
Booker groaned. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”
Frey’s fingers threaded through his chest hair as he sighed. “I almost did until Bowie reminded me. He and Kari are coming, too.” The silence lengthened between them so much that Booker thought Frey had fallen back to sleep. Much like Emmy, he could drop off quickly. “I’m glad it’s Friday… it’s been a long week.”
He searched for a moment to find the top of Frey’s head to kiss it. Frey mumbled something with his hand clutching tighter at his chest hair.
“Sleep, my little fox.” Booker hummed and stroked his fingers up Frey’s naked back, feeling his body relaxing at the rhythmic motions.
“Frey, can you find me the file for Cross Leathers, I seem to have misplaced it?” Booker asked in frustration. His hands lifted and placed down what was close to him on his overly messy desk.
“Here.” Frey held out a blue file, having reached to lift it from the pile to Booker’s left he’d picked up and placed back down. “If you looked with your eyes, it might help.”
The sass was there, along with Frey’s amusement shining in bright eyes. The dark bruises from lack of sleep under his eyes had slowly faded with Emmy sleeping for longer periods through the night and them taking turns to get up. After the diaper change in the early hours, Emmy had let them sleep until six-thirty, so they’d both woken refreshed, if Booker discounted his boner.
“You know I’m the boss here?” Booker said, keeping his expression serious and doing his best to avert his thoughts. Frey’s scent today was driving him a little batty for some reason—or more so than usual.
Frey gave him an exaggerated brow arch before he went back to looking at the iPad he’d been using to make notes for their upcoming dinner that evening. “Cross Leathers have confirmed they’ve got the perfect person to assist Aven with putting a new management structure in place. They will be able to commence the next phase of the business set-up for the new company.”
Booker sat back in his chair and twirled a pen in his fingers as he considered this. “Get Oakland to do a background check on whoever Malcom has offered to help. I don’t want any missteps. Aven, though strong willed, does not need another asshole to work with. ”
“I’ll reach out to Oakland once I have the name. We have requested it be an omega,” Frey reminded him.
“Yeah, but we still aren’t taking any chances. Those men need to feel safe going back.” Booker twirled the pen. “How far along are they with the remodel of the factory? Has there been any update on the basement?”
Frey tapped at his iPad and then offered it to him. “The remodel of the basement is complete.” He sniffed and Booker, who had taken the pad, pointed the pen at Frey, his heart getting a bump it didn’t like at the glistening eyes.
“No tears in the workplace.” He sounded way more gruff than normal.
With one swipe at his eyes, Frey gave him a head shake. “It’s my hormones.”
“You can’t keep blaming them,” Booker groused as he eyed the pictures on the screen, placing his pen down in his excitement to see more. He scrolled through the pictures of the now brightly lit space. The extensive area had been sectioned off. Instead of the cramped cots and dark shabby walls, there were thick padded sofas and chairs in bold colors that invited one to sit down. Plush, pale gray carpet replaced the awful flooring. Three corners of the space had areas designated for eating, with small kitchenettes offering facilities to cook food.
If Booker hadn’t recognized certain structural features, he’d say it was a different building altogether. The upgrade was almost unrecognizable .
Booker’s smile widened when his attention returned to Frey. “They’ve done an amazing job. I’m excited to see the upper factory floor when it’s finished.”
Everything would get ripped out and replaced so it looked like a whole new building, or that was the hope.
“I spoke to Aven yesterday. He’s as excited as you and says that most of the other omegas are, too.”
Booker’s smile dimmed. Three of the omegas were too unwell to return to work; two physically and one whose trauma left him struggling to adjust. They had set aside the funds to support all three men and were getting them the care they needed. Booker didn’t want to think about Toby’s funeral and how gut wrenching it had been seeing their distress first hand.
A hand stroking down the sleeve of his shirt brought his blurry gaze to the man now standing at his side, taking the iPad from his hand. Without saying a word, Frey slipped into his lap and snuggled right in.
“We’re making it better. Talking to Aven, I can see we are. We have to focus on that.” The edge of desperation in Frey’s words showed he wasn’t always able to listen to his own advice.
Booker, who’d automatically wrapped his arms around Frey, tightened them, kissing the top of his head before coming to rest his bearded chin on the silky strands. “I know.”
It never ceased to surprise him how much he got from simply holding Frey, and although it was completely unprofessional to be sitting at his desk like this, Booker couldn’t find it in him to care .
He inhaled, his nose burying in Frey’s hair, and groaned. “You smell so good.”
“Only when I’m not covered in baby puke.”
Booker chuckled, getting that Frey was aiming to lighten the mood. “You even smell good then.”
He didn’t need to wait more than a fraction of a second for Frey to huff and pull back, giving him a narrow-eyed look that was cute and totally non-threatening. “No one smells good covered in baby spit-up. No one.”
He wiggled and got off Booker’s lap. Booker resisted keeping hold of Frey when his body pulsed with arousal from the scent and wiggling.
“You do,” he said around his laughter when Frey scowled.
“Booker, you got five minutes to go over—”
One look at Laken stood in the open door and Booker grunted. “Knocking is what you do when a door is shut.”
“I did, you were too busy playing ‘let’s sniff my PA’.” Laken's expression was passive for a whole two seconds before he caved at Booker’s hard stare and shook with laughter. “It’s the truth,” he spluttered.
“Oh, shut up. No one likes a smart ass!”
“I do,” Frey muttered, winked and walked off with his iPad in hand.
“Where are you going?”
Frey stopped at the door, glancing back. “To finish attempting to work through this list after giving our daughter a kiss before Lane whisks her away.”
Booker pouted at not getting to do that too when Laken took the seat Frey had been using .
“It suits you,” Laken said, as the door closed behind Frey.
“What?” Booker asked in confusion, frowning at the man opposite him.
“Being in love. Being a daddy. It looks good on you,” Laken explained.
Booker eyed his brother, trying to see if he was trying to get a rise out of him. They’d always been at cross purposes with each other, though Booker had never figured out why. Seeing nothing to suggest he was ragging on him, Booker’s grin reappeared. “Thank you.”
Laken shrugged, the cut of his suit jacket extenuating his broad shoulders. “It’s just an observation.” There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other before Laken continued. “The Becker contract, do you have five minutes to go over some of the finer details?”