Guarded #2
Oof, my breasts ached. I longed for those sweet and quiet moments of breastfeeding him. Weaning him off had been another heartbreaking chapter of my life.
“You’re a grown man, babysitting every night. You stepped in when I needed someone, but I’m sure you never intended to become the Manny,” I quipped.
“Manny?” he balked, eyebrow cocked. “Never call a cowboy that. I’m simply hanging out with my bestest buddy.”
I arched my brow right back. “You work all day and then you come here and never complain.”
“Nothing to complain about. I promised your brother I’d be here for you; here I am.” He found my pot and set the water to boil. The stove clock caught my eye.
“Shoot. I’m going to be late.”
“Thank God. We were done with this conversation anyway, right, little guy?” Jake made a silly face. The baby giggled. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ll teach you to be a fine man, yet.”
Cute. But on that note, outnumbered, I ran to the bathroom and traded my shorts for my tightest jeans.
I tore my tee over my head and replaced it with the Saloon’s signature blue one, tying it tight in a knot at my waist. It revealed just enough skin with the plunging V-neckline.
I added a little rosy lipstick, one more pass of mascara, small hoops in my ears, then let down my hair and fluffed it into waves down my back with my fingers—nothing too overdone.
People in this small town weren’t flashy, even on a Saturday night.
When I came back out, Jake eyed me with a double take from the sink as I pulled on my boots. His friendly glances never escaped my attention.
He cleared his throat. Twice. “A bunch of the ranch hands are heading to the saloon tonight. If you need anything or if customers get handsy with you—”
“I know. I know. You tell me every time I walk out the door how much I can rely upon the ODRR guys, like family.”
“Yep. We take care of our own.”
That stopped me. Family…something I’d had little of in the past.
“Since I can’t be there, and with you dressed like that—” he motioned up and down my body.
“What’s wrong?” I peered down.
Lucky for me, my stomach went back to flat, with hardly any loose skin after giving birth.
But my thighs and ass were a little thick now, and my God, my breasts had doubled in size.
My bras hardly fit from pre-pregnancy; I had to remove all the padding, which meant my nipples often poked out, but I didn’t have the money to waste on a larger size.
Generally, I liked the curves that becoming a mom had produced.
I shrugged. “I have to look the part if I want all the tips, because I’m not working five nights a week for my health.”
Jake muttered to himself, which I barely caught as I circled the apartment gathering my purse, keys, and phone, something about if he saw me in a bar he’d tip me real good, and that was exactly why he worried about other cowboys seeing me like this.
“Aha, Stetson, you little bugger.” A quick search of the couch cushions produced my keys; he must have hidden them earlier. “Let’s see. I’m forgetting something.”
I breezed through the kitchen, and Jake stopped me in the middle of my spiral, calming me with a simple hand on my forearm. In his other hand, he held my phone out.
“Thanks. You’re always there when I need you,” I breathed, ignoring the warmth of his hand on me.
“That’s right. Because Trig isn’t. Your ex isn’t. Just me. And I’m not going anywhere. So get used to it.”
If I let myself, I could get lost in those kind hazel eyes of his. Suddenly, my child, with a handful of puffs, king of two words and a hundred sounds of gibberish, held a hand up to him and said, “Da-da-da-da-da.”
We both gasped at him. My whole body froze, with my heart doing things I had no names for, and none of them made any sense.
Jake recovered first. “Baba.” He tapped his own chest, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’m Baba, remember?”
“Dada,” Stetson repeated, giggling over our attention like he was on stage for our entertainment.
“Uh, it’s… Yeah…” Jake scratched the back of his neck.
“Today at the party, he probably heard some of the other kids calling their dads that. He’s just trying it out.
Like a new hat. Speaking of which—” He deflected and took the mini-cowboy hat from the top of the fridge and planted it on the baby’s head. “There’s the cowboy.”
“Right,” I found my voice. “The party.”
“Dadadadadadada,” my son babbled like a machine gun going off.
I rolled my eyes, but a glance at the clock again confirmed I really was running behind.
I bent over, kissing his downy head, breathing him in one more time. “Be good for Baba, baby.”
Jake stood so close I caught myself engulfed in the cedar woodsy scent of him. Heat flooded my cheeks.
“I have to go.” I bolted to the door on legs that almost buckled.
“Autumn,” he called.
When I looked back, he had Stetson up and out of his chair, on his hip, holding his tiny hand up in a wave.
“Bye-bye, pretty little Mama. Be safe.” He used a goofy baby voice as if it were Stetson’s. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
On that note, with the image of the two of them imprinted on my heart, I walked down the block to the Saloon, the tiny town alive and well around me for a Saturday night in the country.
What was I going to do about Jake? Nothing now. Not when my son so clearly connected with him. He already didn’t have a father around, and his uncle was gone, too. I couldn’t tear another male figure from his life.
Or from mine—because as much as I hated to admit it, Jake was the best thing to happen to me in a long time.