Chapter 6 Rourke
SIX
Rourke
There are firemen outside the condo building where I live. Real live firemen with a fire truck and a crowd of people, huddling on the sidewalk. Apparently, the universe isn’t done throwing curveballs at me yet. This time, it’s not because I’m being cast as the lead role for the Christmas pageant.
Original brick walls, exposed steel beams, and restored hardwood floors give the place a historic touch while everything else has been updated with all the amenities I could want, if I were ever actually there: stainless steel kitchen, quartz countertops, and massive windows overlooking the harbor.
It’s the kind of upscale place that attracts people who want luxury alongside a piece of history.
For me, I just thought it was fun to live in a renovated loft near the water.
“What’s going on?” I ask a firefighter who’s keeping people out of the way. “I need to get to my place.”
“Not happening,” he says, shaking his head.
“Some idiot in a downstairs condo left a space heater running and caught his curtains on fire. We got the fire under control easily, but the smoke and water damage from the sprinkler system compromised the entire structure. The building’s uninhabitable until it passes inspection. ”
“You mean I can’t stay here?”
“Not unless you want to get in trouble with the fire marshal.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask, dragging a hand through my hair. This can’t be happening. Not now, when I hardly have the bandwidth to deal with one more thing.
He shrugs. “Hotel would be your best bet. Take what you can and leave the rest for the insurance adjuster.”
Perfect. Homeless for the holidays.
There aren’t hotels in Sully’s Beach, so I call all the extended-stay places within driving distance, only to find out there’s a convention in Charleston and everything is booked.
Maybe I can find a beach house rental, but probably not for tonight. And I can’t drive back and forth for practice if I’m hours away. I’m pretty much stuck crashing on a friend’s couch until I can find something better.
After grabbing what I can, I text Jaxon and Miles to ask if I can stay with them, only to not get a response.
I know Brax and Jaz have a baby and the last thing new parents need is a houseguest, but with my condo uninhabitable and nowhere else to go, I head toward Rose & Thorn, a weathered two-story white farmhouse with a wraparound porch on a tree-lined street.
I knock, then wait on the front porch. From somewhere inside, baby Rosie screams before footsteps approach the door.
“She’s here,” Brax’s voice says as the door swings open. “Please tell me you brought food because we’re living on crackers and—” His face falls when he sees me. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yeah, who were you expecting?”
“I thought you were…never mind. Somebody’s bringing us dinner.” He shifts Rosie as he looks over my bag. “What are you doing here?”
“My condo had a fire. Whole place is condemned and all the hotels are booked.”
His eyes widen. “That’s horrible, man. You need a place to stay?”
“Would that be okay with you and Jaz? At least until I find someplace else.”
“Come on in.” He steps aside, bouncing Rosie, whose red face suggests she’s about to lose it. “I would give you Leo’s old room, but Jaz just turned it into Rosie’s new nursery. Which means only the couch is left.”
I walk inside, dropping my bag by the door. “Couch is fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt your family time.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything…except another scream-fest, courtesy of our daughter.” She lets out a wail to prove her point.
I look over at Brax’s exhausted face. “Want me to try?”
Brax frowns. “You?”
Just then, Jaz appears in the hallway wearing stained sweats and a weary smile. “Hey, Rourke. Did you just offer to hold a screaming baby?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s just…” Jaz stares at me. “She’s been fussing for hours. She’s teething and miserable, and nothing seems to work.”
Brax turns to his wife. “Don’t scare him off. The man offered to give us a break. We should take it.”
I shrug. “I figured if I’m asking to sleep on your couch, I can at least hold a baby.” Rosie lets out another wail.
“You’re staying here?” Jaz asks, looking between Brax and me.
“His condo had a fire,” Brax explains, transferring Rosie to my arms. “He needs a place to crash.”
As I take Rosie, the first thing I notice is that for someone so small, her screams are incredibly piercing. But then I adjust her against my chest, rubbing her back, and she seems to like that better. “Hey, baby girl,” I whisper. “What’s so bad that’s got you in tears?”
Something must catch her attention because she immediately stops crying and looks up at me with wide eyes. She either likes my voice or is temporarily mesmerized by a new face. “Since we’ll both be awake and miserable tonight, we might as well be friends.”
“Oh my gosh,” Jaz breathes. “You’re like the baby whisperer.”
I smile slightly. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll ruin my reputation.”
Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “That’ll be Janie with the food,” Brax says, moving toward it.
I freeze. “Wait, did you say Janie? As in, Janie Bennett?”
“Yeah, she saw me in the grocery store,” Jaz says. “I told her Rosie’s been having sleep troubles, so she offered to bring us a meal. Why?”
“No reason,” I say quickly.
Just what I need. Janie Bennett catching me here, cradling a baby like some kind of reformed grump.
I do the only logical thing I can think of: turn around and face the fireplace, hoping she won’t recognize me from behind.
Janie’s voice carries in from the doorway. “Hey, Brax! I’ve brought dinner for…”
I close my eyes. Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t—
“Rourke?”
Dang it.
I turn around slowly, baby still in my arms. “Hey, Bennett.”
Her eyes widen, darting from me to the baby and back again. Then her mouth opens. “You’re…holding a baby.”
“Well, aren’t you the observant one?” I say dryly.
“But you’re…” She gestures vaguely at me. “You’re you.”
“Last time I checked, yes.”
“And you’re holding a baby,” she repeats, like she’s trying to make sense of these two things that don’t belong together.
“He’s actually really good with her,” Jaz says. “Got her to stop crying in like thirty seconds.”
Janie’s shock shifts to an amused smile. “The grinch knows how to hold a baby. Who would’ve thought?”
“I’m just here to help.”
“Condo fire,” Brax steps in to explain. “Building is condemned and he needs a place to crash.”
Her eyes flick to the couch, then back to my face. “You’re sleeping where?”
“On the couch. It’s not that bad,” I say with a shrug. Their couch is not comfortable. It’s as hard as a rock and clearly too short for me.
“When do you think you can get back into your condo?” she asks, her brow furrowed.
“I don’t know.” I shift Rosie to my other side. “I’ll figure something out. Eventually a hotel room will open up. Or there’s always my car.”
She frowns. “You can’t sleep in your car.”
“It’s not ideal, but—it’s only temporary, right?”
“Here, let me take that,” Jaz says, grabbing the garlic bread and lasagna from Janie as she and Brax go to the kitchen, leaving us alone.
She looks at me holding Rosie again, like she can’t believe I would even touch a baby. “You’re good with her.”
“Beginner’s luck,” I say, lifting a shoulder lazily.
“I don’t think so.” She tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “You have big plans for the weekend?”
“Trying to stay out of Brax and Jaz’s way.”
She bites her lip. “You could always tag along with me. I actually have a babysitter for the day.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To the Santaville Christmas Festival. It’s a long drive, but totally worth it.”
“A Christmas festival?” My voice goes flat. “So you can make me like Christmas.”
“No, but it might be useful to get inspiration for the script. If you happen to catch some Christmas spirit, that’ll just be a bonus.”
“Sounds like torture,” I deadpan.
“No, Rourke, it sounds like fun.” Her chin lifts slightly. “Unless you’re scared you might actually enjoy it?”
I keep my gaze locked on hers. “I’m not scared of Christmas, Bennett.”
“Then come with me and see if this inspires you.” I can see she’s up to something—like she’s already plotting out her diabolical plan to reform me.
“I don’t know, Bennett,” I say, rocking Rosie. “According to you, I might ruin Christmas.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
I lift an eyebrow skeptically. “Really?”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I did.”
She has the decency to look a little guilty.
“I just want you to find something about it that’s tolerable,” she says. “One thing.”
“Nothing about Christmas is tolerable.”
“Come on.” She tilts her head, giving me a sweet, hopeful look that’s far too effective. “At least do it for the kids.”
“Sure.” I laugh in disbelief. “This is all about the kids.”
“Are you afraid my Christmas spirit might rub off on you?”
I don’t answer right away, because maybe I’m more afraid that Janie will rub off on me—in ways that have nothing to do with Christmas spirit.
She crosses her arms. “Well, the least you could do is try to win the matching donation. The school could really use the funds.”
“There’s no guarantee of that. And going to Santaville won’t make me a Christmas fanatic, just so you know.”
She stares at me, her eyes widening. “You’ll go?”
“I guess. As long as it has nothing to do with our bet, okay?”
“What bet?” We both turn to find Brax emerging from the kitchen with a plate of lasagna, appearing slightly more human now that he has food.
“It’s nothing,” Janie says.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Brax says, taking a bite of lasagna.
“I need to make him like Christmas by the night of the pageant,” Janie says.
Brax’s eyebrows shoot up. “And if you can’t?”
“Then she goes on a date with me,” I say. “To a hockey game. Wearing my jersey.”
Brax starts laughing.
“What?” I ask, frowning.
“Nothing. Just that the whole team is going to be placing bets on this one.”
“It’s not funny,” I protest.
He points his fork at me. “I can’t wait to see you scaring small children away.”
“Laugh any louder and you’re going to wake Rosie,” I complain, glancing down at his daughter. Brax doesn’t seem to care—he’s more interested in watching this Christmas bet blow up in my face.
“This is going to be the best Christmas program ever,” Brax says, then takes another bite.
Janie turns to head for the door, glancing one more time over her shoulder. “So. Christmas festival tomorrow?”
“Unless I change my mind.”
“You won’t,” she says. “Because you need to do it for your role. See you at four.”
“Wait.” I blink. “Did you say four o’clock?”
“In the morning,” she says cheerfully. “Bright and early.” Then she hurries out the door before I can cancel on her.
I’m regretting this already. The pageant. The bet. Sleeping on a couch while a baby wails upstairs.
Brax shakes his head, still grinning as he slaps me on the shoulder.
I frown. “What?”
“Nothing, man. It’s just going to be interesting—you’re allergic to Christmas while she practically bleeds tinsel.” He chuckles. “Plus, you’ve had a thing for her since you two danced together. Should make losing this bet a little less painful.”
I look down at Rosie, who’s still blissfully sleeping in my arms.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”