Chapter 9
Lane sank into the rocking chair and stared down at his son. He couldn’t get over how much the baby looked like him. He smiled and cooed, making silly faces to try and get a reaction. Earning the slightest gurgle or smile was more satisfying than his longest ride.
Minutes ticked by and he wished each second would slow down. He wanted to soak it all in. Memorize every line of his face. Learn what every noise meant.
Parker scrunched his nose and grunted and there was no mistaking the noise that came from his bottom.
Unease shot Lane to his feet, his grip tight on the little boy. He debated interrupting Celine’s shower and asking for help, but this was an opportune time to step up. Besides, he’d watched her change Parker earlier. It might have looked a little complicated, but he could handle it.
“Okay, bud. I’m going to lay you back on this table thing your mom had you on then get you cleaned up. Can you do me a favor and make this as easy on me as possible?”
Parker kicked his legs in response.
Laying him on the table, Lane kept one palm on his belly to keep the baby from rolling to the floor while he found a clean diaper and the wipes Celine used earlier to clean him. He unsnapped the bottom of the little shirt, and a wave of something foul as hell slapped him in the face.
“Holy crap, kid. How can something so small make something so disgusting?”
Before he could talk himself out of it, he held his breath and used a handful of wipes to clean every little crevice. He found a trash pail by the table and threw away the wipes then wadded up the diaper to follow along with them.
Something wet seeped from the diaper and spread across his hand, activating his gag reflex seconds before something splashed on his face.
“What the hell?” A quick glance at Parker confirmed his fear. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s like a freaking war zone.”
Reaching for whatever he could find to block the continuous stream of urine splashing straight up at him, he found a thin cloth and placed it on top of the baby’s lower half.
Parker’s giggle combined with a louder laugh from behind him.
He turned to find Celine standing in the doorway. Her wet hair rained down around her shoulders, a long gray robe wrapped around her body.
If he wasn’t currently fighting his instinct not to vomit, he’d be turned on by the soft pink of her skin and the humor glowing from her eyes. But right now, he had bigger issues to handle.
He settled one palm on the moist blanket still draped over Parker and lifted his dirty hand in the air. “He pooped. Then he peed. On me.”
Celine covered her growing grin with her hand. “I see that. Would you like some help?”
“Yes, please.”
She swept into the room, the smell of her floral shampoo almost enough to block out the offending smells coming from their son. She effortlessly grabbed the wipes and a clean diaper, getting Parker ready in record time. She resnapped his clothes and swept him into her arms. “All done.”
His mouth dropped. “How did you do that? You didn’t even get any on you.”
Her smile came back, a real genuine one he hadn’t witnessed much since he came back to town. “I’ve had a lot of practice. And honestly, you did most of the dirty work. Do you want to wash up?” She nodded toward the hand still raised in the air.
“Yes, please,” he repeated.
“Bathroom’s across the hall.”
He dipped out of the nursery and into the bathroom, scrubbing his hands at the cream-colored pedestal sink.
With one problem solved, he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
Pee stains soaked through the fabric of his t-shirt.
He yanked the material over his head, making sure to keep the urine from touching his face. He wadded the shirt in his hand.
Okay, now what?
When Celine recommended cleaning himself, he doubted she meant taking off his shirt. But he had a fresh one in his truck. He’d hurry outside before she knew he’d gotten half-naked in her bathroom. Then he could attempt another conversation about sticking around a little longer.
Plan made, he hurried into the hallway and stepped toward the front door at the same moment Celine exited Parker’s bedroom. She crashed against him, eyes widening in shock.
Instinct moved his arm around her waist to keep her steady.
Her body stiffened, one palm flattening against his chest while the other hand held the baby. She stared up at him, her lips slightly parted.
Heat shot through his veins. Clearing his throat, he took a step back. “Uh, sorry about that. I was going outside to get a clean shirt from my truck.”
“Of course,” she said, her voice as soft and smooth as cashmere. She shifted to press her back against the wall, allowing him more than enough space to get by without touching her. “I’m going to get dressed.”
He dipped his chin and kept his gaze on the floor as he made his way outside. If he wanted to find a way to be a part of Parker’s life while maintaining boundaries with Celine, he had to get a grip. Figure out how to keep his head on straight.
Easier said than done with his body responding like a hormonal teenager from one simple touch.
Closing his eyes, he let the warm breeze play across his face and calm him down. He had to tackle one issue at a time. First, Celine and Parker’s safety. Then, figure out how to make the next eighteen years work with him and Celine raising a child together.
His stomach muscles clenched, and he reopened his eyes to march to his truck.
Forty-eight hours ago he had no desire to ever have a child.
To ever play a part in raising a tiny human with anyone.
Now, after only a few minutes alone with his son, everything had shifted.
He didn’t know how things would play out or what his life would look like.
But one thing was clear as the bright blue sky. He wanted nothing more than what was best for his child. He just hoped that included him stepping up and being the type of father that Parker needed. Doubt crept into the corners of his mind.
He would kill to protect Parker from whatever darkness had moved in and tried to hurt Celine. But he’d rather die than be the reason his son ever felt an ounce of pain—die than be the type of father he’d grown up with.
Because if he ever turned into his own father, he’d destroy everything around him.
Celine grabbed a t-shirt and pair of cut-off jean shorts and dressed before braiding her wet hair.
She debated adding a touch of makeup then quickly banished that idea.
Lane was the only person besides Parker she planned on seeing the rest of the evening, and she shouldn’t care what he thought of her.
Heck, it’d probably be better if she wore loose-fitting clothes and did something to enhance the bags under her eyes. Do whatever she could to repel any physical attraction. Lord knew she couldn’t flame her own desire he stirred in her gut.
She swallowed hard, the feel of his chest imprinted in her mind. Flashes of memories of the last night they’d spent together curled her toes against the soft carpet.
Okay, she really needed to get her mind out of the gutter and away from whatever silly fantasies she used to have about Lane. The only problem was that even with the fantasy gone, it left her with an image of Lane covered in all kinds of Parker’s unmentionables.
But he’d held steady, tending to the baby without fussing or heck, even gagging as she’d done countless times. Maybe she’d been too tough on him, and she needed to give him an opportunity to prove himself before telling herself he wasn’t worth the risk.
At least as far as Parker was concerned.
She’d think on it, but for now, she had to stop picturing Lane shirtless in her hallway. An all but impossible task.
The sound of the door opening turned her focus down the hall.
Lane stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him.
She hated the sense of relief that came over her knowing he was near. As much as she wanted to tell him to leave, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, tossing out the question before she could think better of it. “You didn’t get a chance to eat your lunch earlier. I could whip you up something before you leave.”
A slow half-smile hiked up the side of his mouth, and he rubbed a palm over his scruffy jaw. “Sure. I could eat.”
She handed over the baby and headed for the kitchen. “You can be on Parker duty. It will be a treat to actually cook without carrying him around.”
Lane followed behind her, resting on a backless stool at the island while making silly faces at Parker.
She spared the duo a quick glance before rummaging through the fridge for something quick to put together. Dinner was in a few hours, so she didn’t want to fix anything too heavy but now that she’d made the suggestion she couldn’t back out.
An idea took hold, and she found a pack of turkey sausage and retrieved the carton of milk before finding a box of macaroni and cheese in the pantry. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, causing a warm and fuzzy sensation to tingle the pit of her stomach.
Lane’s husky laugh lifted her lips as she boiled water at the gas stove.
“You got some wine coolers in the fridge, too? Then I’d really feel like a teenager,” he said.
Shrugging, she kept her back to him so he couldn’t see the emotions displayed on her face.
She couldn’t count the number of times they’d shared a box of mac and cheese, always adding either sausage or hot dogs or some other protein to their favorite snack.
“My mom probably does. Can’t say I’ve snuck many of them lately.
But if you want a drink there might be a beer in the fridge. ”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Silence settled over the room except the coos and grunts from Parker.
Celine focused on the simple meal. Cooking the pasta and melting the butter and cheese in the pot before chopping the heated-up sausage and stirring it into the mac and cheese. She grabbed a bowl and scooped noodles into it before presenting it to Lane.
“You aren’t eating.”
She shrugged. “Not hungry. I actually finished my lunch earlier. Do you want me to take the baby?”
Hesitation slowed his motions. “Can I keep holding him?”
“Sure.”
He stayed still, not making a move toward the bowl of food. He twisted his lips to the side and kept his gaze fixed on Parker’s wide eyes. “How is it possible for me to love someone I just met?”
His words were like a dagger through her heart. She’d played moments like this in her mind a hundred times—moments when Lane would be with his son. That she’d tell him about their baby and the two would come face-to-face.
Never would she have pictured this.
Since the day the pink line came across the little white stick his adamant claims of never wanting to be a father had plagued her.
He’d mentioned more than once how he’d never wanted to be a parent, how his own dad’s shortcomings were enough to keep him far away from anything that could tie him down and hold him responsible for another life.
A notion he’d driven home the last night they’d spent together. When in a moment of weakness and grief over her failed marriage she’d confessed her desire to start a family of her own. Lane’s harsh laugh, followed by his argument she was better off on her own was seared in her brain.
But now, seeing Lane with their son, she second guessed her decision to keep his paternity a secret. She couldn’t give him back the first three months of Parker’s life, but she could make it possible for him not to miss out on anything else.
“It’s a connection like no other,” she said, finally answering his question.
Lane lifted his gaze to meet hers. “He’s amazing. I want to know him—for him to know me.”
Emotion lodged in her throat, and she nodded. “We’ll figure it out. As long as you promise not to break his heart. If you promise not to hurt him.”
“I’d give my life to keep him safe.”
The fierceness in his eyes told her that he meant it. For now, she’d have to take his word. Trust her gut and take one day at a time.
She just had to make sure to protect her own heart in the process. Because she might believe he wouldn’t hurt their son, but Lane had already burned her twice. She wouldn’t survive it a third time.