Chapter Twenty-two
West
By the time Friday rolls around, I’m exhausted, pissed off, and fed the hell up.
I think about cancelling on Daisy-Mae a few times, but Mama raised me better than that, and maybe getting away from the slaughter at the ranch, my idiot brothers, and Lemon and Colt making googly eyes at one another is just what the doctor ordered.
I cut the engine and exhale loudly, grabbing the bottle of wine I bought from Earl’s on the way here.
I didn’t feel right showing up empty-handed.
I shoot a quick glance at my face in the rearview mirror.
It’ll do. God knows I ain’t getting any younger, or any prettier, sitting here in this truck.
Besides, I’m going to see a woman who’s so off-limits she might as well be living in a whole other country. How I look is irrelevant.
I shake my head and exit the truck, puffing my cheeks as I exhale a nervous breath and climb the steps of her front porch.
I rap quietly on her door, half afraid I’ll wake the baby, but a beat later a frazzled Daisy-Mae opens it with Waylon cradled in one arm.
She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and leggings, and her hair is done in a messy knot on top of her head.
Even like this, with dark shadows under her eyes, no make up on, and looking like she just rolled out of bed, she’s a fucking knockout.
“You’re early,” she says.
“Er, yeah. Sorry.”
“Good. I’m covered in spit-up and I haven’t had a second to shower, let alone check the vegetables.
” She thrusts the baby at me, and I about drop the damn wine.
Daisy takes it from my hands as I cradle her newborn.
He pouts a little in his sleep, and it’s the darndest thing.
How can you love someone you barely even know so damn much?
“I didn’t know if you liked red or white.”
She walks inside. I follow, closing the door quietly so I won’t wake the precious cargo.
“White,” she says as she makes a beeline for the kitchen. “But I can’t have either while I have a babe at my breast.”
Oh shit. Nice one, West. Trust me to not think about the fact that Daisy can’t drink. “Sorry. I didn’t think about—”
“My breasts?”
I baulk, and stare at her eyes, or at least that’s how it starts, and then my gaze drifts because she just mentioned them and now, I can’t think of anything else.
I clear my throat. She laughs as she bends over to remove a dish from the oven, and now I’m staring at my second favorite body part. Jesus, man. Get a grip.
“Relax. I’m just kidding around.” She removes two glasses from the cupboard and opens the bottle of wine, pouring me a large serving before screwing the cap back on.
She fills her own glass with lemonade from the fridge, and sips it as she watches me.
“You know, babies look pretty good on you, West Winchester.”
“So long as they’re not screaming for their mother.”
“Listen, do you mind holding him while I take a quick shower? I tried to get one in earlier, but someone doesn’t like to sleep. I promise I will not abandon you this time.”
“Go for it,” I say casually, hoping my fear isn’t written all over my face. I’m still a little traumatized by her last shower. “Do you need me to do anything here? Should I put the baby down?”
“No.” She shakes her head emphatically. “Do not do that. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be back in five.”
Before I can say anything else, she disappears. I sit at the kitchen table, every movement a lesson in discipline and caution, so I won’t disturb him. When I glance down again, his big eyes are wide open and staring right at me.
“Damn it,” I whisper. Waylon begins whimpering and squirms. Tiny grunts come from the kid, and then there’s a godawful smell, and a sound that strikes fear into the heart of all non-parents everywhere.
Shit.
Literally.
“Really, kid? You couldn’t have waited until your mama got back?”
I don’t know what the protocol here is. This kid is not mine, and I don’t know the first thing about changing diapers. I also don’t wanna come off like a freak, so I rock the wailing, squirming, stinky child in my arms, and by the time Daisy-Mae comes back, I’m covered in shit too.
This kid is coated head to toe, and I’m nursing him along the length of my forearm, cradling his head in my palm, and holding him out from my body as baby shit seeps through his onesie and out the other side.
Daisy-Mae covers her laughter. “I leave you boys for five minutes and this is what I come back to?”
I thrust the kid toward her. “Take him.”
She backs up, her arms held up in a warding gesture. “I just showered. I am not taking him.”
“He’s your kid.”
“Um-hmm, and you can take him in on his changing table while I get a bath ready.”
I glance at her, horrified. “Daisy.”
The kid is screaming now, turning red in the face and ... wait, is he workin’ on more dookie? “Oh, hell no!”
“On second thoughts, I think a shower might be in order.” She leads me into the main bathroom and runs the water, stripping off the baby. The smell gets worse before it gets better, and before I know it, she’s shoving me into the cubicle with her kid.
“Daisy!” I protest. “I can’t.”
“Don’t you dare drop my baby boy, West,” she says, all business now.
“I’m getting wet, Daisy-Mae.”
“That’s kind of the point. We gotta get that stink off both of you boys. Now hold him against your chest. He’s a kid, not a grenade.”
“Yeah? Tell that to my shirt, ’cause he sure made a mess like one.”
I do as she says though because my jeans, belt, shirt and socks are already wet and I’m holding a screaming newborn under the faucet as Daisy washes the shit off him.
In a matter of minutes, he’s clean, and she’s rescued the poor kid and wrapped him in a dry towel, and I just stand there under the spray, watching her like she’s superwoman .
.. because she is. As far as I know, Daisy’s never done this before, and yet, she’s a natural.
Meanwhile, I’m over here like a fucking chump complaining about a little shit.
“I’m gonna get him dry and warm. Why don’t you take off them clothes, and I’ll wash and dry them for you?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. You’re soaking wet, and you ain’t sitting at my table dripping like something the cat just dragged in.”
“I don’t have anything else to wear.”
“Well, lucky for you Eddie left a few things in the closet before he skipped town. I’ve been meaning to donate them to Goodwill, but I’ll see if I can’t find them for you.”
“Yeah, okay.” Unease prickles down my spine. I don’t like the idea of his things still hanging in their closet, as if she’s just waiting for him to slip right back into the life they used to share.
“There’s fresh towels on the far wall.” With that said, she closes the door behind her, and I’m left staring at the vent in the ceiling, wondering how the hell I get myself into these situations with this woman.
First it was running her to and from work every day, then she’s yelling at me as she delivers a baby in the front seat of my truck, and now, I’m showering at her house after her kid shat all over me.
Still, there’s no place I’d rather spend my Friday nights than with her and Waylon, baby shit, and all.
***
At some point as the hot water needles my aching muscles, a new ache starts to develop .
.. low in my balls. I’m in a real live woman’s shower.
Not just any woman’s shower, but Daisy-Mae’s, and the soap and shampoo that drive me wild every day, smells real damn sweet as I’m soaping up my dick.
Like an asshole, I let my fantasies run away with me.
What would it be like to bury myself inside her sweet cunt, or wrap my arms around her thighs and eat my fill?
Fuck. Now I’m hard, and busting a nut to be touched.
I can’t go out there like this. She’ll think I’m some kind of fucking deviant.
I turn the faucet all the way to the right and shriek like a little girl as the icy water sprays my skin.
It’s pure torture, but it’s enough to shrivel my cock practically inside my body.
With a deep breath, I shut off the water, wring the excess from the sopping clothes, and wrap a towel around my hips. I open the door and Daisy’s standing on the other side, her hand poised to knock. “Are you okay? I heard a scream.”
Fuck. Because screaming like a kid is the mental image I want to leave her with while I’m half naked. “Er ... yeah. Just um, a little water pressure issue. It’s fine.”
Her gaze rolls over my naked torso and her mouth drops open. “You ... you haven’t changed a day since high school.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Excuse me?”
“I-I mean ... that is ...” She clears her throat. “You’ve obviously changed, who here hasn’t, right? I went and got myself knocked up by the wrong man ... who’s just so much smaller than you.”
I frown. “What?”
“The clothes. Eddie’s clothes. I found them, but I don’t think they’re going to fit.” She thrusts them at me, and I take the pile from her hands to keep it from falling to the wet floor. An alarm goes off from the other end of the house. “Oh, shoot. My casserole.”
Daisy leaves in a flurry and I throw on the T-shirt and jeans she handed me.
She’s right, they definitely don’t fit. I glance at myself in the mirror.
I look ridiculous, like the Hulk dressing himself in the toddler’s department at Macy’s.
I grab my own soiled clothing from the bathroom sink and head to the kitchen to help.
Daisy’s perched on a chair, waving a potholder at the smoke alarm. I drop my clothes in a heap on the floor, then I reach up on my tiptoes and unhook the device from the roof. I turn off the godawful wailing and stare up at Daisy-Mae. Unshed tears well in her eyes.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry. This was supposed to be me making up for all the help you’ve been and it’s just one disaster after another.”
I reach up and wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her and setting her on her feet.