Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I’m just gonna take a quick shower, if that’s okay?”
“Take your time. Don’t rush. I’ll be here.”
Despite his words, I couldn’t relax in the shower. So I washed my hair and rubbed the soap over my body swiftly. I did, however, take the time to properly brush through my wet hair after, and I dabbed a bit of concealer under my eyes to get rid of the dark circles. I wanted to look good in front of Deacon, even if that was difficult to admit, and even if nothing would come of it. There was an extremely attractive man in my apartment, and if I had the opportunity not to look my worst, I was going to take it. It wasn’t like I’d been planning for him to come over tonight.
Before I ventured back out into the living room, I peeked out my bedroom door so I could properly enjoy the sight of Deacon holding Sunny without him noticing the look of swoon on my face.
CHAPTER 3
Deacon
DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT
I was pretty sure my balls had fallen asleep. Or if not fully asleep, they were definitely numb from lack of movement. Not wanting this baby to wake up again, I hadn’t moved an inch the entire time Carys was in the shower.
How did I get myself into this situation?
Oh yeah. I’d felt bad for Carys and wanted to show my concern. I never thought I’d actually be able to help. Because shit, what the hell did I know about babies? Absolutely nothing. And I’d always thought it was better that things stayed that way. Such a huge responsibility. The last thing I expected was to be comfortable holding her, or that she’d actually want me to. Apparently this little one liked me for some reason.
When Carys came back out, I nearly did a doubletake. Her long, straight, strawberry-blond hair was down and towel-dried. I’d never seen her hair down before. She typically had it tied up, which was also nice because she had a beautiful neck. She wore a short nightgown that clung to her petite frame. Carys was attractive in a graceful way. It had come as no surprise that she’d been a ballet dancer, though normally she didn’t show off her body. And why should she? Taking care of her daughter was her priority. It wasn’t like she needed to impress anyone.
But damn. It felt kind of wrong to be checking her out under the circumstances. From the moment I met her, I’d thought she was hot. But the fact that she’s someone’s mother automatically made her off limits.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Perfect.” I whispered. “Aside from the fact that my ass has that pins-and-needles feeling from not moving. But I’m afraid if I hand her to you, she’ll wake up.”
She laughed. “You’re a saint, Deacon. Feel free to pass her off to me any time, even if she does wake up. You have no responsibility to stay.”
Maybe not, but I didn’t want Sunny to start crying again. At least one of us—Sunny—was getting sleep in the current situation.
Carys sat across from me on the couch.
She looked down at her baby. “I still can’t get over the fact that you hadn’t even held a baby before, and you nailed it on your first try.”
“Eh. She makes it too easy for me. Unfair advantage.”
Carys smiled. It was nice to see that she’d relaxed a bit. She’d seemed really tense earlier tonight when I’d helped her up the stairs, and that was before any of this crying stuff happened. Come to think of it, Carys seemed wound up most of the time. Not that I blamed her. She had her plate full.
She really did have a pretty smile. And I really needed to stop noticing that. This girl might as well have had a sign on her face that read: Don’t even think about it. I wouldn’t be dating anyone who had a kid; children were not in the cards for me. It would be bad enough to inevitably fuck up a relationship with someone who lived next door, but to have a child involved who might be hurt when you left? No, thank you. No matter how damn cute—or intriguing—Carys was, I wouldn’t be going there.
She fascinated me, though. Even before I knew anything about her, I’d had the sense that there was more to her than met the eye. Something in her eyes, maybe—they were always trying to tell a story. For a long time, I couldn’t put my finger on it. But when I saw that photo from her ballet days, it started to make sense. Her life as she knew it had been cut short by a traumatic event.
I could relate to that. Maybe I’d somehow sensed we had that in common. Maybe that’s why I was drawn to her the moment I looked into her eyes.