Chapter 8 Piper
PIPER
I wake up thinking about Felix Barlowe’s mouth.
Specifically, the way it felt pressed against mine yesterday in the kitchen. He kissed me like I was oxygen after he’d been holding his breath for far too long, and I’d responded in the exact same way.
“Not going there,” I mutter into my pillow. “Absolutely not.”
But my traitorous body has other ideas, and the pregnancy hormones currently hijacking my system make a strong case that Felix Barlowe is the answer to all the questions I’m too afraid to ask. Particularly the smutty ones.
I’m ready to force myself into a cold shower, but I sit up and draw in a deep inhale as the most amazing smell drifts up from downstairs.
Could that be actual fresh-baked bread at—I check my phone—six-thirty in the morning?
Felix seemed embarrassed that his covert identity had been revealed, but even with the freshly-fed starter in the fridge, I didn’t truly believe he was a bona fide bread baker.
Based on the way my stomach is growling instead of churning with its typical hormone-induced nausea, I think I’m about to be proven wrong.
I throw on baggy sweats and a sports bra under my T-shirt, bypassing the closed door to the bedroom that Felix moved Ellie into as I follow my nose downstairs.
I find Felix at the kitchen island, joggers hanging sinfully low on his hips and a faded T-shirt with the sleeves cut off stretched over his toned chest. His tattoos and muscles make my mouth go dry in a way that has nothing to do with morning sickness.
His hair is rumpled, and there’s a smudge of flour on his unshaven jaw.
A mountain of a man who accidentally stumbled onto the set of a TV baking show.
My ovaries cheer wildly.
“Morning,” he says as he slowly slices something golden-brown in the pan on the counter in front of him. “You want a glass of juice?”
“You seriously baked?” The question comes out more accusatory than I mean, but I’m thrown off by all of it. The muscles, the rumpled hair, the unexpected intimacy of the moment. And that heavenly scent…
“A cinnamon-sugar focaccia,” he confirms, finally glancing up at me.
His expression is careful, like he’s trying to gauge where we stand after yesterday’s kitchen incident.
Neither of us mentioned the kiss last night, and I plan to keep avoiding the topic.
“The recipe uses sourdough discard, so it only takes a couple of hours.” He pauses, then adds with a slight smile, “Now that my baking bro secret’s out, I’m working on a real loaf for you to try.
Fair warning, though, sourdough takes time. ”
“The best things do,” I murmur, tempted to place a hand on my stomach, then move to the sink for a glass of water, trying not to bump into him.
The area between the counter and the island isn’t exactly narrow, but Felix takes up a lot of space, and my body is very aware that we’re alone.
In fact, my nipples seem to have their own ideas about this whole situation.
Praise the Lord for a padded sports bra. “What time did you get up?”
“Before five. I couldn’t sleep.” He plates a piece of the bread and holds it out to me. “Try this.”
“I’m not really hun—”
“Just try it, Hart. Don’t make things weird.”
Ignoring the fact that everything about this is weird, I take the plate. Our fingers brush for half a second. Even that brief contact sends sparks shooting along my skin, which is ridiculous. But I bite into the bread and—oh my God.
It’s perfect. Still warm from the oven, and practically melts in my mouth. I might make a sound that’s not entirely appropriate this early in the morning. Or anytime anywhere out of the bedroom.
Felix’s blue eyes darken just a fraction. “Good, right?”
“This is genuinely unfair,” I say around another bite. “You can’t have washboard abs and also bake something that makes me want to eat the whole pan in one sitting.”
“You like my abs?” He lifts his shirt to reveal said washboard, and I just about forget my own name.
“I like your focaccia more,” I lie.
He grins. “Sure you do. But you have plenty of talents. The most impressive one is getting a two-year-old to eat her veggies without throwing a fit.” He takes a bite of his own piece of bread, and I try not to watch the way his throat works when he swallows. “That’s actual sorcery.”
“I’m used to giving kids shots. Veggies are a cake walk in comparison.
” I take a seat at one of the island’s high stools.
To my surprise, my stomach seems to have no problem with me shoveling in the bread like I haven’t eaten in weeks.
Felix takes the carton of juice from the fridge, pours me a glass, and slides it in my direction.
The fact that this man, who I don’t want to like, seems intent on taking care of me is beyond weird.
It’s disconcerting, disturbing and it feels dangerously domestic.
“Ellie’s easy compared to some of the toddlers I’ve worked with. ”
“She screamed for an hour straight when I tried to give her a bath the first night I had her.” His voice hitches in that way that does complicated things to my chest. “I thought I’d broken her.”
“You aren’t going to break anything. I’m sure she was scared and confused.” I take a sip of juice. “You’ve done an amazing job with her, Felix. Really.”
He looks away, his jaw working like he’s physically holding back his response. The moment stretches between us, taut with all the things neither of us is willing to say.
“Fee! Fee!” Ellie’s voice crackles through the monitor, followed by a delighted giggle. “Pi!”
“Duty calls,” I say, grateful for the interruption before I blurt out that watching him take care of Ellie makes me want things I shouldn’t. Things like having him be a father to our baby. But I’m going to have to tell him the truth soon.
“I’ll get her,” Felix says, already heading for the stairs. “You need to eat more. Protein ideally. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Yes, Dad,” I call after him.
“That’s Zaddy to you,” he answers with a low chuckle, and there go my ovaries again, cheering like we’re at the Super Bowl and Felix has just caught the winning touchdown.
By the time he comes down with Ellie, who’s wearing her donut pajamas, hair sticking up in a way that oddly mirrors Felix’s, I’ve managed to pull myself together. Mostly.
“Pi!” Ellie reaches for me, and after sliding the eggs I’ve scrambled onto a plate, I take her, settling her on my hip. She smells like sleep and lavender shampoo, and my heart does that stupid squeeze it’s been doing lately whenever I hold her.
This is what it could be like, I think. Me and Felix and Ellie and a baby. Except he doesn’t want to be a father, and I haven’t told him, and—
“You okay?” Felix asks, studying my face with concern. “You’re pale again.”
“Fine. I need some protein, like you said. Ellie and I are sharing the eggs.” She’s going to eat them all, because pregnant me still thinks eggs are disgusting.
But I’m not mentioning that to him. I kiss the top of her head, using her as a shield against his scrutiny as I place her in the booster seat Felix had delivered. “What’s your plan for today?”
“Tyler’s coming over this afternoon for leg day.
” He pulls out ingredients for what looks like an elaborate smoothie.
“I was thinking this morning we could take Ellie to a playground like you talked about with Ty. I looked online, and there’s one near Vail Village that has bucket swings and a sandbox. ”
“Swing,” Ellie agrees, then shoves a bite of egg into her mouth.
“You want to go to a public playground?” I raise an eyebrow. “What about flying under the radar?”
“I’ll wear a hat.”
“Yeah, because that’s going to keep people from recognizing you.”
“I doubt the playground will be popping with rabid football fans.” He dumps a few fresh blueberries onto Ellie’s plate. “She needs to see more than just this house, and honestly, so do I. Plus, you could use some fresh air in a way that doesn’t involve fainting on mountain trails.”
“One time, Felix.”
“Once is enough.” He cocks a thick brow. “You up for a field trip?”
I should say no. I need to maintain distance and boundaries and all the things that went out the window when I agreed to be his nanny.
But Ellie gives me a heart-melting grin as she ignores the eggs to shove blueberries into her mouth, while Felix is looking at me with as much hope as a golden retriever bestows on the treat jar, and I’m apparently incapable of denying either of them anything.
“Sure,” I agree. “But maybe skip the Grizzlies merch. And you’re on sandbox and swing duty. I’m claiming a bench.”
“Deal.”
Two hours later, I’m sitting on said bench, watching Felix push Ellie on the baby swings, and my heart is flinging itself against my ribcage like it wants in on the action.
He’s wearing a CU Buffaloes cap pulled low, aviator sunglasses, and a plain gray T-shirt that does nothing to hide the way he’s built. Every time he pushes Ellie, she shrieks with joy. His laugh, deep and genuine, makes my heart go even more haywire.
“Higher, Fee! Higher!”
“That’s as high as we go, munchkin,” he tells her, grinning as widely as the toddler. “Don’t want you flying to the moon.”
“Moon!” she shouts, her arms shooting into the sky like she’s riding a roller coaster.
As Felix predicted, we have the playground to ourselves for most of the visit.
After a while, a mom pushing a stroller as she follows two rambunctious older boys stops near the edge of the rubber mulch.
She smiles at me, then does a double-take when her gaze lands on Felix.
At first, I chalk it up to the typical reaction people have to a man of his size.
I don’t know much about pheromones, but I’d bet money Felix emits them in tsunami-sized waves.