Chapter 2
PIPER
I try to go back to sleep. Really, I do.
But even with an earplug jammed into each ear, I can still hear noises.
Strange ones. Not sex noises. It sounds like whimpering, but the voice is too young, and it’s not the kind of whimpering I’d expect from a woman spending the night with Felix.
Not the sort I did that one stupid, regrettable, drunken night in Felix Barlowe’s bed.
I mean, unless there’s some kind of perverted role-playing going on, it definitely sounds like a child crying.
But that’s impossible, because Felix doesn’t have kids.
He doesn’t want kids. It’s a point he made that crystal clear at Christmas dinner last year when he told Ian in no uncertain terms that kids weren’t in his game plan. Ever.
Which is why the secret I’m carrying, the one that’s going to make him a father in about seven months, makes my stomach pitch wildly. And finally propels me out of bed. I want to know what the hell is going on out there.
I put on a bra and some loose sweatpants. Not because he told me to, but because I’m afraid my nipples are going to betray me again, perking up the way they seem to whenever he’s within a fifty-foot radius. My body hasn’t gotten the memo that Felix Barlowe was a one-and-done for this girl.
I’m in one of three guest bedrooms on the second floor, and I can see a light coming from the partially cracked door of the room at the far end of the hall.
The primary bedroom is on the main floor of the cabin, and I’m a little surprised he didn’t take that since Ian and Sadie aren’t here.
I know firsthand that Felix sleeps like a starfish—arms and legs spread wide, taking up every available inch of mattress.
The crying has mostly subsided, but there are still little hiccupping sounds coming from his bedroom.
I’m probably going to regret this when I get an eye-full of more than I bargained for, but my spidey senses are tingling.
I’m a pediatric nurse, primarily NICU—or at least I was until I walked off the job—and I can’t ignore the sounds of a child in distress.
God, I hope he’s not into some weird diaper kink.
I knock on the door and wait for Felix to growl at me to “go the fuck away,” but he doesn’t respond. Neither does the woman who’s in there with him. Then I hear the noise again: not quite a cry, not exactly a whimper, and definitely not an adult.
I push open the door and peek around the edge of it toward the bed, bracing myself for whatever scene I’m walking into. Only nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Felix, fully clothed and propped up against the headboard, with a child in his arms.
Based on her size and the length of her hair, the girl is between two and three years old.
She’s sleeping fitfully against his chest, squirming every few seconds and letting out those tiny sounds of distress that tug at my heart.
Felix’s massive hand nearly spans her entire back, and there’s something achingly tender about the way he’s holding her, like she’s made of spun glass.
“What the—”
The words are meant to stay in my head, but I must have spoken them out loud, because Felix’s eyes pop open.
They’re a startling, clear blue—the color of the bright sky above a snowy peak—and it takes a moment for him to register me standing there.
He was definitely sleeping more deeply than the kid, but sensing my presence, he jolts up with a start, jostling the child.
Her eyes blink open for a moment before they squeeze shut.
Her face crumples, and she lets out a wail.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he says as he stands, his giant hand keeping her secure against him as he bounces, his movements almost endearingly unpracticed.
“Dude, come on,” he says to me, his tone uncharacteristically put upon. “I just got her to fall asleep. She cried the whole drive up here from the airport in Denver.”
“Don’t dude me, Felix.” I take a step forward. “What the hell have you done?”
“Don’t swear in front of her.” His voice is soft. Clearly, he doesn’t want to upset the child in his arms any more than she already is, but his gaze is fierce.
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” I demand, pitching my voice to a whisper.
The little girl—who has wispy curls of sandy blonde hair, the widest brown eyes, and is wearing pink pajamas with donuts all over them—cries and squirms, but Felix holds her tight. Almost too tight. Like she’s a ball he needs to protect until he gets her to the end zone.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you kidnapped a child and brought her to a remote cabin in the wilderness.”
“Pump the brakes, Olivia Benson,” he tells me, and the reference to one of my all-time favorite television characters gives me a moment of pause. Does he know I binge-watch SVU? Let’s put a pin in that for the moment.
“Did you take someone’s baby?”
“Of course I didn’t take her,” he says through gritted teeth. “She was given to me.”
That admission stuns me. I know football fans can be devoted to their favorite players, and since the announcement a couple months ago, it’s been the talk of the town around Skylark that the great Felix Barlowe is going to be playing for Denver’s beloved Grizzlies.
But I don’t think even the most rabid superfan would give him a baby, would they?
“Felix, I swear to God, if you don’t start making sense—”
“I can hear you thinking, Piper, and whatever explanation you’ve come up with in that beautiful blonde head of yours—there’s no way you’ve guessed the truth.”
I take a step closer and automatically hold out my arms. I love babies, and although I know Felix is trying, his awkward attempts at soothing this one aren’t working.
“You’re not going to run off with her, right? You’re going to let me explain?”
“Jury’s still out and it better be a good one,” I say.
He hands over the girl with a relieved—and quite possibly exhausted—sigh. I didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes downstairs, but this isn’t the high-energy, Tigger-coded Felix I know and don’t love.
“Who is she?” I ask as the little girl settles against me, warm and smelling like baby shampoo.
“Her name is Ellie. And since mid-May, I’ve been her legal guardian.”
I’m not sure I could stop my mouth from gaping open if I tried.
I shake my head.
“Who would leave you…”
I trail off before the rest of that sentence leaves my mouth. Since we met last summer, Felix and I have turned giving each other shit into an art form. But given the situation and the sweet little girl in my arms, what I was about to say feels too cruel, even for our toxic dynamic.
But I said enough. Felix knows the rest.
“Who would leave me a child when I’m the last person on earth who should be responsible for one?” The smile he flashes isn’t angry or defensive. It’s genuine, and so damn defeated.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, Hart. For once we’re in complete agreement.” He chuckles softly, then grabs the carrying bag for what looks like a portable crib I hadn’t noticed resting against the wall.
“Are you okay holding her while I put this together? She wouldn’t let me set her down, and doing it one-handed is—”
“Go ahead.” The weight of the child feels right in my arms, and I try not to think about how in a few months, I’ll be holding another baby. One with Felix’s blue eyes, maybe.
“Her dad was my best friend in college. We came in together in the same recruiting class. Troy Wallace.”
He looks at me almost expectantly, and I shrug as I sway back and forth, Ellie peacefully conked out against my shoulder.
“I don’t really follow football.”
“You wouldn’t know Troy. He was supposed to be the best defensive lineman the league has ever seen. But he took the ass end of a dirty hit midway through our senior year. Went down hard and broke his back.”
I flinch at the mental image, causing Ellie to stir. I adjust my hold, and she settles again. Felix watches us for a moment before returning to crib assembly.
I’d like to tell you I don’t notice his strong hands or the tattoos snaking up his arms or how capable and efficient his movements are. But I’m only human. And it appears my pregnancy hormones have decided that Felix Barlowe assembling baby furniture is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Awesome.
“It took a lot of rehab, but he walked again. Not a chance of him playing football after.”
He pauses before continuing, and I expect him to tell me how Troy got hooked on painkillers, and his life went off the rails from there.
“The wild part is, I don’t think he had any regrets.
” Felix smiles, glancing at me, then back down at the crib.
“He met Julie, his wife, because she was his physical therapist. She kicked his ass five ways to Sunday. Made him work for his recovery. He got his teaching certificate, then a job as a fourth-grade teacher at the local elementary school, and took over coaching high school football where they lived in Mississippi. He was happy. A lot happier than a lot of guys who have multimillion-dollar contracts but no one to really give a shit about them.”
I wonder if he’s talking about himself, but that’s none of my business, so I don’t ask. Although the hollow look in his eyes suggests maybe he is, and maybe I should.
“He was so damn happy when Julie got pregnant. They told me together after a game in Atlanta. Troy and I celebrated by drinking entirely too much brown liquor, and he asked me to be the godfather.”
The crib is together now, and he pulls a sheet from a duffel bag sitting at the foot of the bed.
“You said yes?”
He nods and runs his hand over his jaw, which is sporting at least three days’ worth of stubble.
“I didn’t think anything of it. I’m Riva’s godfather. The fun uncle. And I’m f—” He glances at the sleeping baby, then corrects himself. “I’m darn good at it. I spoil my niece rotten. I figured I could do that again. Send ridiculous gifts on her birthday, dump a bunch of money into a college fund.”