Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Anna
“You get our hungry boy inside, and I’ll get everything else,” I told Kemp when he finally ended our hug.
He opened the back door of the vehicle to ear-piercing cries as I headed to the tailgate and started unloading.
For the past eight days, I’d been consumed with the upheaval in Kemp’s life almost as if it were my own.
I’d been with him at the Earthly Charm open house when he received the call that rocked his entire existence.
I’d been the one to drive him to Nashville that evening to meet his baby and begin the process of proving Oliver was his.
I’d stayed up all night with him as we sorted through details, learned as much as we could from Reese, who’d been babysitting Oliver when the car accident occurred, and tried to figure out what was next.
Kemp and I had camped out in a hotel room close to Reese’s apartment that night, but we hadn’t slept.
I’d listened while Kemp had tried to process the life-changing situation he was now in.
It might be his baby and his situation, but I’d been there with him through every emotion, from wonder at his perfect little boy, to quiet rage against the mother who’d kept Kemp in the dark, to gratitude toward Reese for tracking down Kemp and telling him the truth.
I’d stayed with Kemp for as long as I could that next day, asking Ava to cover for me at the inn, which she’d done without hesitation.
Though she was the inn’s owner, it was my responsibility to run it.
I normally handled as much as I could without bothering her so she could focus on her writing career.
But Kemp’s predicament had superseded everything.
After that first day, though, I’d brought him back to town to pick up his SUV and his sister, Natalie, so she could meet her nephew before she flew off to Australia for her study-abroad semester the following day.
I’d switched to supporting him from afar.
We’d agreed there wasn’t much I could do at his side in Nashville, and I couldn’t leave Ava hanging for longer than necessary.
I’d put my nervous energy into crocheting a hat and blanket for Oliver in the evenings.
Kemp and I had been in touch constantly.
He’d come back on Christmas Eve so we could go to Presley and West’s wedding, but then he’d driven to Nashville yesterday, on Christmas day, to another lonely hotel room, this one near Oliver’s grandparents’ home.
He’d been allowed to visit his son briefly on the holiday, and then, as we’d hoped, he’d finally gotten all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed by child services today, and here we were.
I carried in the formula can first. Then, as Kemp prepared a bottle with the screaming monkey in one strong arm, I headed back out to his SUV and carried everything else in.
By the time I had both our vehicles unloaded, Kemp had a blessedly quiet Oliver in the living room.
When I entered the room and saw Kemp there with the baby cradled in his arm, I stopped abruptly before either of them noticed me, my chest going warm and gooey.
Even though Kemp and I had been friends since we were toddlers, and even though I knew him inside and out, I frequently got a kick in the chest when I looked at him. His familiar blue eyes and scruff-covered square jaw did it for me. Always had. But now?
The sight of this handsome, muscular man holding his tiny son so gently, his big palm supporting the half-empty bottle, melted me.
It brought to mind those hot firefighter calendars, which was appropriate since Kemp was a volunteer firefighter in addition to being the brewmaster at Rusty Anchor. And undeniably hot.
Kemp noticed me standing there and met my gaze with a look of wonder, relief, and fatigue. He shook his head as if to say, How is this my life?
Smiling, I sat on the ottoman facing them, my attention on the baby, whose eyes were half-closed, heading toward a milk coma.
“He looks like an angel now,” I whispered.
“With the lungs of a little devil,” Kemp said, grinning.
“Are the dogs still outside?” I asked unnecessarily. If they’d been inside, they’d be all up in our business, curious about this little nugget in Kemp’s arms.
He nodded. “I need to feed them.”
“I’ll take care of them.”
“Thanks for handling them all week.”
“You’re welcome. They missed you, but we did fine.”
I’d ended up sleeping in his sister Natalie’s room—who’d arrived safely on the other side of the globe—every night Kemp was gone so I could let Mac and Baxter out first thing in the morning and hang out with them in the evenings.
They were high-energy Labs, Mac a chocolate and Baxter a yellow, who were good boys until they were cooped up by themselves for too long.
Their outdoor space was fenced in and had a heated doghouse, so they could go out for extended periods, but those two loved their people time too.
“I tried to explain to them that their whole life was about to change in a big way,” I said.
Kemp laughed quietly. “I’m sure that did a lot of good.” His smile faded. “I hope they take to this guy okay.”
“They will,” I reassured him. “Baxter was sleeping on the Oliver-scented blanket last time I was here. We’ll take it slow.”
He nodded.
We watched in silence for a while as Oliver drank.
“So my mom is coming for Christmas on Sunday,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You two should join us.”
His brows shot up, as if that was a big ask, which…it could be. My mother had problems. But I was hoping for a calm, albeit brief, belated holiday meal with her and my brother. Ryder and I had spent the actual holiday yesterday with our dad, which was always more peaceful.
“She’s been pretty mellow lately,” I said. “We’re going for low drama.”
Kemp laughed. “Does Tammy know what low drama is?”
“It’s all relative. Come on. You didn’t even get a proper dinner on Christmas. You’ve got your boy now. Just come over and relax.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to relax again, but yeah. I need to figure out the whole leaving the house with a baby thing anyway.”
“This is low stakes. If he needs a nap, we can put him down in the bedroom.”
He nodded as he blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah. We’ll be there. Thanks.”
I stood. “Now that the minibeast is taken care of, I bet you’re hungry?”
“Starving. I bought some frozen pizzas.”
“I brought sandwiches from the inn. They’re ready to eat now, or I can put a pizza in.”
“Now sounds awesome. You’re my hero, Anna Bobana.”
“I’ll feed the dogs, then bring you a sandwich.”
I ran some food and fresh water out to Mac and Baxter, threw their tennis balls a couple of times, then came inside and took out the sandwiches from the inn’s bistro. I plated them up, filled two ice waters, and took everything to the living room.
“The rowdy boys are fed and watered. This one’s still going?” I asked quietly, looking at the drowsy baby.
“Almost done. Only question is whether he’ll finish the milk before he drifts off.”
Once Oliver emptied his bottle, Kemp set it aside, gently shifted him into a burping position, and patted him until a few impressive belches popped out, making us laugh. He settled the baby back in the crook of one muscular arm, then reached for his sandwich.
“Do you want to put him to bed?” I asked, settling a foot or so away on the sofa.
Kemp peered down at his son, his eyes shining with love as he shook his head. “I want to hold him a bit now that he’s quiet.”
“I know you’ve been trying to get him for a week, but it’s still messing with my mind that you’re sitting here in your house with your son.”
He chuckled. “You think it’s messing with your mind…” He shook his head as he ate a bite. Once he’d swallowed, he held the sandwich up. “The Cuban is delicious as always.”
“Cash’s thin pork chops are everything,” I agreed.
“I grabbed these when Sadie filled the cooler after lunch, and it was a good thing I did. We were down to ham and cheese and chicken salad when I left.” As Kemp shoved the last of his first half sandwich in his mouth, I said, “I brought six, so you’ll have some left over. ”
“I might eat them all in the next fifteen minutes,” he joked. “Thanks for thinking of food. It’s going to take a bit to adjust to feeding a demanding little human first.”
His phone buzzed with a notification, and he carefully shifted to pull it out from his back pocket, trying not to disturb Oliver, who’d fallen back to sleep. As he read the message, he frowned.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s Chief. He wants to see me tomorrow.” Kemp typed in a reply. “He’s probably not happy I missed my shifts all week and called off again tonight.”
“Are you sure? Chief Thomas seems like a reasonable guy.”
Kemp shrugged. “I’m usually available for my on-call shifts.”
“Everything’s different now.”
“That’s for sure. Nothing to do but go see him tomorrow.”
“What’s he going to do, fire you?” I teased.
“I should be so lucky,” he muttered. “What am I going to do, Anna? How am I going to handle everything? Holden’s probably ready to drop me as a partner and find a new brewmaster.
Chief needs shifts filled. This guy needs to eat when he needs to eat, and apparently I’m supposed to sleep sometimes too. ”
I considered that as I took a drink. “You’re going to need help.”
With a chuckle, he said, “You think?”
As I ate my sandwich, I considered how to broach a topic I knew wouldn’t be welcomed. With Kemp, I was usually direct, so I went for it.
“What if you quit the firefighting gig?” I asked.
Almost before I got the question out, he shook his head.
“Kemp.”
“You know I can’t do that,” he said.
“I know you feel obligated, but you have a child now. Things are going to have to change. You’ve got a full-time commitment to Holden, and the brewery pays the bills. Firefighting doesn’t.”
The local fire department was part volunteer and part paid. Kemp, like the other firefighters, was a volunteer, while the officers and admin were paid. The volunteers received stipends for the calls they went out on, but it would cost him more to pay a babysitter than he’d make.
“Money’s not why I do it,” he grumbled. “You know that.”
His father had been the chief. His grandfather had been a firefighter in the city before Kemp was born.
The fire service was in his blood, and even more, his mother had raised him to give back to the community.
Kemp had signed up as a firefighter when he turned eighteen, years before his parents had died, and his dad had been so stinking proud of him.
His mom too. “Your reasons made perfect sense…until now,” I said.
He scowled. “You know how many volunteers have kids?”
“This isn’t about other people. It’s about you and Oliver.”
“I was raised in a house where service is what we do. I spent almost as much time as a kid hanging out at the station as I did at home. It was everything to my old man. I can’t just give that up.”
“Well, you can’t give up your paying job,” I pointed out.
“And I don’t want to. You know how hard Holden and I worked to make Rusty Anchor a reality. We’re just getting going.”
I nodded. Kemp loved being the brewmaster, and he was good at it, judging by how popular their beer was and their recent nomination for some kind of beer award after being open for just over two years.
Beer, the brewery… Those things lit Kemp up.
Sparked him. He became animated when he talked about them.
“Okay, so let’s talk solutions. What are you going to do?” I asked him.
“I need to find a daytime sitter for starters. Any idea if Quincy Breckenridge has openings?”
I took out my phone. “I’ll ask.” I sent the question to Quincy, then set my phone down when I didn’t see any sign that she was replying right away.
“Chloe and Presley swear by Sam Cordova’s babysitting business,” I offered.
“I think all of them are high-school students,” Kemp said. “They aren’t available for full-time help during the school year.”
“That’s probably true. You might need to put a listing on the Tattler.”
“Good idea. I’ll do that this weekend if Quincy doesn’t pan out. Then I need to find some kind of overnight nanny for nights when I’m on call. Someone who can sleep here, so when a call comes in, I can go. I don’t have time to text someone and wait for them to get here.”
“Hi,” I said, waving at him.
“Hi?” He clearly didn’t understand what was obvious to me.
“I can stay here on nights you’re on call,” I spelled out.
He gave me a look that said the idea was crazy. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I volunteered.”
He studied me as he ate the last bites of his sandwich. Turned his attention to Oliver, who hadn’t stirred beyond emitting a deep sigh of sleep. When Kemp looked back at me, his eyes were glassy and ringed with fatigue and emotion.
“If you’d do that for, say, the next week while I get my feet under me, that would help.”
“Of course,” I said, happy he wasn’t going to draw out an argument about it.
“But only a week or so. You’re a giver, Anna. You’ve got a heart of gold. I’m not going to take advantage of that.”
“It’s friendship, not taking advantage,” I whispered. “If it takes more than a week to find a nighttime nanny, it’s okay. I’ve got you, Kemp. Can you just…accept that?”
“You’re too good to me, Anna Bobana,” he whispered. “But okay.” He wadded up the foil his sandwich had been wrapped in.
I took it from him, along with his napkin and paper plate, added them to my trash, set it all on the end table, and slid up to his side, my eyes on his beautiful son.
As I watched little Oliver sleep peacefully in the crook of Kemp’s arm, I rested my head on Kemp’s other bulky arm, relieved he hadn’t fought me more. Content to be able to help him. And rapidly falling in love with his baby boy.
Peace enveloped us, at least on the surface. As cozy and comfortable as this moment felt, the fact was, though Kemp and his son meant the world to me, they were not my family. At least not in the way I’d always dreamed of.