Chapter 8 #3
Straightening away, she smiled up at him, then sniffed.
“Well, Mr. Rafferty, you may as well understand that I’m overly emotional about many things, especially children.
My own, and apparently anyone else’s. For that reason, I get tearful a lot.
” She brushed the fresh batch of tears away from her cheeks.
“I know, it’s a hideous look. I’m so fair-skinned that I turn blotchy with the first tear, and it only gets worse after that. ”
Worry kept his brows together. “Mr. Rafferty?”
“Formality is important when making agreements, or so Marlow has always told me. She’s the dealmaker, you know.
Anyway, if we’re going to know each other for more than a few months, then you should know that I’m a crier.
” Lifting a shoulder, she made it clear that she wasn’t going to fight it.
“I cry when I’m happy, and when I’m sad—”
“You’re sad?” he quickly asked.
“For Connie, yes. For you and the unnecessary regrets I know you have. For what Shayna has lost.” Saying it out loud brought more tears into her eyes.
It really was absurd how easily she cried for a woman she’d never known, and a baby she’d only recently met.
“What an incredible man you are to come here for your sister. And for Shayna.”
“I don’t feel incredible.” He looked away. “It doesn’t matter that Connie let me off the hook. I should have been there for her.”
Pixie thought, at the time, he’d had to be there for himself first. She couldn’t imagine tackling the obstacles he had, especially without any backup. “When did you last hear from her?”
“A few Christmases ago. She sent me a card. She’d randomly do that. Reach out in some way, and she always included a note as if we’d been in touch all along. As if years hadn’t passed.” His chest expanded on a strained breath. “She was like that.”
Those had probably been the times when Connie had missed him the most. Brogan must realize it, too.
On the couch between them, his large hand curled into a loose fist. Pixie covered it with her own.
Startled, Brogan looked down, then into her eyes. “Sorry.”
“For reacting to a bad memory? Don’t be.”
Looking as if he didn’t understand her, he said, “I want you to know, I don’t lose my temper. Even if I get tense, I swear to you, I would never hurt you.”
Gently, Pixie said, “That thought never even crossed my mind.” Mostly, she just wanted to offer comfort—and receive it. We’re friends only, she reminded herself. Brogan had made his intentions clear enough, and now she understood why.
She wanted to ask him about his time in the military; when he’d joined; what his mother had thought about it; if he still saw his mother; what he planned to do about Ruthie.
She was sorting through all her questions, trying to decide the easiest way to start, when she heard a buzzing in the kitchen. “Oops, that’s my phone.”
Grabbing the opportunity, Brogan sat forward. “Go ahead and answer. I’ll keep an eye on the kids.”
As his tall, fit body unfolded from the couch, she pressed a hand over her heart. This one could rob her of all reason so easily.
“Thank you,” Pixie said to his back, but she was smiling. Yes, there would be problems to face, but now she could assume Brogan would be in her future.
Difficulties and convictions aside, her heart was happy.
For the fifth time, Brogan reminded himself to stop eavesdropping on Pixie’s conversation.
From what he’d heard, Marlow-the-paragon had called.
He half-smiled. Did Pixie realize that she glowed when she spoke of her friend?
To hear her tell it, Marlow was an angel walking among mere mortals, a larger-than-life hero who could do anything.
It was nice that she’d found someone special, someone who could fit the role of family, since she’d had no one of her own. That was how Brogan had felt about his teammates. They’d been a quirky lot. Badasses, all of them.
God, he missed them. He missed the life he’d built for himself in the military. He’d expected to be there still.
Shayna made a sound, and he looked up with a smile already on his mouth.
He’d have died for any one of his brothers, but he was grateful to be here now with Shayna.
He heard Pixie say, “It’s not like that.” Then in a mere whisper, “He made it clear, Marlow.”
What had he made clear? Wondering if he’d ever meet Marlow, Brogan got the diaper bag to change Shayna’s diaper and again resolved to stop listening.
Andy wanted to help him, and that stymied Brogan for a moment. Then he handed Andy a diaper. “Will you hold that for me?”
With great seriousness, Andy clutched the diaper in both hands as he crouched down, staring intently as Brogan got out the wipes and a changing pad.
“Can you say ‘Shayna’?”
“Shen.”
“Hey, good job!” He offered Andy a high five, then had to show him how to do it. High, low, Brogan even got him to attempt to bump fists. It was amusing, seeing Andy’s pudgy, pale paw against his own rough, massive fist.
That made him think of Pixie covering his hand as they’d sat on the couch. He hadn’t even realized that he’d tensed so much. Guilt was a terrible thing, an acid that burned his conscience around the clock. He could endlessly torment himself with why.
Why had he let his father and Ruth chase him away?
Why had he been so pigheaded about accepting Connie?
Why the hell had he let pride rule his life?
In many ways, he’d been no better than Brian, and worse than Ruth. They’d cut him out, but he hadn’t really needed them.
He’d cut out Connie, and now he knew she’d needed him badly. That definitely made his sins far greater than theirs.
While he changed Shayna, he heard Pixie say, “Tonight? But you weren’t due home yet!”
Hmm. Apparently, Marlow and Cort were cutting their trip short.
Was it because of the trouble Ruth had caused?
Judging by what he’d been told, Marlow was protective—not only of Andy, but of Pixie, too.
She wanted to make sure they were all right, but the change in plans dumped even more remorse on his head.
He hadn’t meant to bring trouble to these people. They didn’t deserve the ugliness Ruth could dish out.
That made him wonder: How had Ruth known where to find him? There was no way Erin would have told her, but somehow Ruth had found out.
Pixie said, “Really, Marlow. I’m fine. I am! This is exactly why I didn’t call to tell you.” She laughed. “Fine. I should have anyway.”
How nice that they had such a close friendship.
Now that Shayna was nice and dry, Brogan realized that Andy was immersed in her diaper bag, checking out everything. He had one of Shayna’s colorful little hats sitting atop his head, and when he found her socks, he immediately wanted to try them on.
Brogan grinned. “Pretty sure those won’t fit you, Andy.”
Undeterred, Andy did his best to get his much chunkier foot into the delicate little lace sock. Such an amusing kid.
“Let’s put them on Shayna, okay?”
Intrigued by that idea, Andy scrambled around toward the infant’s feet.
Brogan swung him up and seated him carefully, so he didn’t bump her with his knees. “We have to be really, really careful, okay?” Brogan pulled off the sock she currently wore, sniffed it, and said to Andy, “Pee-yew.”
Laughing, Andy smelled the sock, too, and pretended to keel over.
“You little actor,” Brogan praised; then he sniffed Andy’s foot and decreed it worse.
They were still laughing when Pixie joined them again. “What’s going on in here?”
“Foot sniffing,” Brogan explained.
Andy immediately jumped up to smell her feet.
“What in the world?” Pixie tried to back up.
Andy chased her, saying, “Whew!” as if her feet were the smelliest of all.
“You rodent! My feet are fine.”
“Whew, whew,” Andy insisted, his face all scrunched up in disgust.
Snickering, Pixie scooped him into her arms, pretended to chew on his belly until he giggled uproariously, and then came to sit by Brogan.
It felt nice, playing like this. Taking care of the kids. Sharing grins and hearing the sound of Andy’s happiness.
Being with her. Being with them.
It was the kind of thing a guy could get used to.
Pixie’s shoulder touched his arm, and she didn’t move away. “That was Marlow.”
“Everything okay?” he asked, accepting Andy when the toddler reached for him, as always, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick Shayna.
Pixie went one further and lifted the baby girl into her arms. “It’s fine. Marlow called the shop to check in with Renee and found out about Ruthie.”
Something twisted inside him. Dread, disappointment. Embarrassment too, because he knew he was responsible for her being here. “And now she’s headed home?” he guessed.
“She and Cort both. I probably should have told her, but I didn’t want her to worry.”
Brogan put Andy on the blanket and handed him a toy. “I’m sorry. I never meant to bring so much chaos into your life.”
She shoulder bumped him. “Well, as to that, I’m glad you’re here.
” She trailed a finger down Shayna’s button nose, then tapped her chin and smiled.
“Both of you. It’ll take a little adjustment, but I rather like the idea of Andy having a sibling.
I didn’t want him to be an only child, but since I couldn’t—”
Headlights hit the front window, drawing their attention. Dread crawled up Brogan’s spine.
“I think someone just pulled in.”
“Yeah.” His mouth flattened. “Stay here with the kids.” He started to stand.
Pixie stayed him with a hand on his wrist. “Something you should understand, Brogan. I don’t take orders well.”
“I didn’t mean it as an order.” His gaze went to Shayna in her arms, and then to Andy, who’d just found the infant’s soft hairbrush. “I can’t be two places at once.”
A sudden loud pounding on the door caused Andy to drop the brush and made Shayna wail. Just as Pixie was consoling Shayna, Andy launched himself against her, scrambling to get as close as he could.
Brogan barely bit back his curse. He was a man divided, desperately wanting to soothe Shayna, while at the same time knowing he had to deal with Ruth.
Pixie adjusted, holding Shayna in one arm and gathering Andy close with the other. To Brogan, she said, “Help me up.”
Right. She had her hands full. Though he couldn’t seem to strangle out a single word, Brogan assisted her to her feet, then stared helplessly at her while she lightly jostled Shayna and hugged Andy close to her leg.
“Go,” she said. “We’ll be fine. But Brogan?”
He waited.
“Please be careful. That woman is dangerous. I don’t trust her.”
Not what he’d expected. He’d thought … Well, he wasn’t sure.
Pixie gave him a small smile. “However,” she said, “I do trust you.”
Those words were like a suit of armor and a shot of adrenaline. On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.” And with that, he headed to the door. “Lock this behind me.”