Chapter 7
“Great. It turns out the baby only sleeps if I’m holding her. So long sleep.”
Zane
“Wah.”
I groan and roll out of bed. The bed I’ve only been laying in for thirty minutes since Adele’s last crying jag.
“Come on, baby girl,” I murmur as I lift her from the crib.
My family saved me again. I have everything a baby could possibly need and then some crammed into my spare room. I have no clue what most of the things are, to be honest. Wipe warmer, formula dispenser? No idea what those things do.
“Wah!”
“What do you need?” I must be more tired than I thought, since I actually wait for Adele to respond. She doesn’t. She’s a baby.
“Do you need your diaper changed?”
Please, for the love of all pirates, do not need your diaper changed. I lift the baby up and sniff. No toxic smell.
“Are you hungry?”
She can’t be hungry. I literally fed her a bottle less than an hour ago.
“What do you need, baby girl?”
“WAAAH!”
Someone is not happy, but I have no clue why. I cuddle her close and pat her back as I walk to my bedroom in search of my phone. I’ll call Mom. She’ll know what to do.
I pick up my phone but pause before dialing when I realize someone isn’t crying anymore. Awesome. Time for more sleep for Zane.
I return Adele to the crib, but the second I set her down, she starts crying again. Damnit. Why is this so hard?
I pick her back up and rock her in my arms. “Sweet baby girl, please go to sleep. I need sleep.”
She quiets down again and relief fills me. Maybe I’m not a terrible parent after all.
But when I lay her back down in her crib, she starts wailing again.
“What is it, baby girl? What do you want?”
Her response? She wails until I pick her up and rock her in my arms.
I’m not an idiot. I can figure this out. Or rather, Google will figure it out.
“Check for basic needs,” I read the result of my Google search. “Is the baby hungry? Nope. Does her diaper need changing? I don’t think so. Great. Now what?”
I continue to read. Try soothing techniques. Okay. What are soothing techniques? Rock, sway, or take the baby for a walk in a stroller.
“Do you want to go for a walk, baby girl?”
I glance around the room, which is now completely stuffed with baby stuff. Stuff I hope I can give back to my family once Adele returns to her mother. My stomach sours at the thought of not having Adele in my life, but I ignore it. I’m not cut out to be a dad.
“There!” I shout when I finally locate the stroller amongst the mess and Adele cries. I rock her until she quiets again.
“I need to lay you down for a second.”
Adele doesn’t approve of the idea. As evidenced by her wailing as if the world is coming to an end. It sure as hell feels as if the world is coming to an end with her screaming.
I get the stroller set up and place Adele in it. She continues to cry until we’re moving.
I hope she falls asleep while we’re walking. I’ll probably fall asleep while we’re walking.
I wander down the sidewalk and the wind hits me. Brr. It’s colder outside than I thought. Good thing I’m wearing a sweatshirt.
But Adele isn’t. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I whirl us around to return to the house. She begins howling with rage. It’s as if she knows where we’re going. The neighbors are going to think I’m torturing her.
I whip off my sweatshirt and wrap it around her. She snuggles into it and the screaming stops.
I continue our walk. I’m cold now since I’m only wearing a t-shirt but better I’m cold than a tiny defenseless baby.
I walk around the block. It’s quiet outside. I check my watch. It’s three a.m. No wonder it’s quiet. All the bars and restaurants closed an hour ago.
I whistle as I continue to stroll around Smuggler’s Rest. It’s the biggest of the three towns on the island, but it’s still a small town. In the winter months, when there are fewer tourists, it’s a quiet place to live.
Which is why I was headed out to South America this week. I don’t do well with quiet. Smuggler’s Hideaway is fine in the summer when it’s propped full with tourists – many of whom are single women searching for a good time – but in the winter, it can get boring. I don’t do boring.
Although I could imagine spending a winter between the sheets with a certain bartender. Sloane won’t give me the time of day, though. She thinks I’m a player. She isn’t exactly wrong.
But there’s nothing wrong with being a player. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I simply don’t make any promises.
My brow furrows when I notice a woman sleeping in her car. She has light brown hair similar to Sloane’s. Hold on. It is Sloane. Why is she sleeping in her car?
I knock on the window as gently as possible but her dog pops up and begins barking.
“Quiet, Boozer,” she orders without opening her eyes.
I knock on the window again. No sense in being gentle. Her dog is already awake.
Sloane’s eyes fly open. When her gaze lands on mine, she slams her eyes shut.
“Sloane,” I call.
She shakes her head.
I chuckle. “Are you pretending you can’t see me?”
“Maybe.”
“Roll down your window.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
“Too bad. I don’t want to talk.”
“Sloane,” I growl.
“Fine,” she huffs and rolls down her window. “What do you want?”
I lift a brow. “What do I want? Are you seriously asking me what I want?”
“You knocked. I assume for a reason.”
“Why the hell are you sleeping in your car?”
Her hands shake as she places them on the steering wheel. “I was falling asleep after my shift. I thought I’d take a little nap before driving home.”
I point to the backseat, which is filled with boxes and suitcases. “Are you moving somewhere?”
Her eyes fall closed and she drops her forehead to the steering wheel. “Yes.”
“Where are you moving to?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I growl. I have a sneaking suspicion I know what’s happening here. And I don’t like it one bit. “Are you living in your fucking car?”
She throws her arms in the air. “What business is it of yours?”
None. But I’m not letting her sleep in her car. I’m not an asshole.
“Follow me home. You can stay with me tonight.”
“Boozer and I are fine here.”
She shivers and I notice she has goosebumps. “You’re not fine, and I’m not arguing about this.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t argue then. Just go away.”
“You have two choices. You can come home with me.”
“I am not going home with you,” she snarls.
I raise my hands. “I promise to keep my hands off of you. You can sleep in my spare bedroom.”
“What’s my other choice?”
My stomach dips. While I would love to spend a night or two twisted up in the sheets with her, she’s not interested. It’s for the better. I can’t offer Sloane anything more than an orgasm or two. She deserves more. She deserves everything. But I’m not the man to give it to her.
“I call Harper and you explain why you’re sleeping in your car to her.”
She spits daggers out of her eyes at me. “You’re an asshole.”
“So, I’ve been told.”
Adele cries and Sloane scowls. “What are you doing outside at this time of night with a baby?”
“Come home with me and I’ll explain.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
I grin. “Do I appear to be the kind of person who lets something go?”
“You appear to be the kind of person I want to punch in the face,” she mutters.
“You’ll have to get in line behind my brothers.”
“The Raider brothers.” She tuts. “If you weren’t trying to sneak into Rumrunner, you were fighting with each other.”
“Don’t forget pranking each other.”
“How can I forget? I nearly peed my pants when the clown dropped down from the ceiling.”
“You can’t blame me. No one expected you to be at the high school.”
“And my reward for helping to clean out the school library was to be scared half to death.”
I shrug. “At least you didn’t pee your pants.” The wind whips through the street and I shiver. “Come on. Let’s get back to my house before I catch a cold.”
“Why are you outside in the middle of the night in November in a t-shirt?”
I point to Adele. “She needed my sweatshirt more than I did.”
Her face softens when she looks at the baby. What I wouldn’t do to see that look on her face when she looks at me. But this woman deserves more than a night with me. No matter how much my fingers itch to touch her, she’s off limits.
“Fine,” she finally gives in. “I’ll stay with you tonight, but you’ll keep your hands to yourself, and it’s only for tonight.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Deal.”
Notice I didn’t promise not to figure out somewhere else for her to stay. No way is Sloane living in her car. Not if I can do something about it.