Is this man for real in front of me? Are we sure he’s not just a figment of my imagination? Like seriously, he’s straight out of a romance novel or movie.
“You don’t need to do that,” I say, but he tips his head, giving me a look.
“Payton.” He says my name, reminding me of how my father used to say it when I was teetering on the line of doing something I shouldn’t. “What did I say about letting me help you?”
“That I’m a stubborn girl who will make you say it over and over.”
A wicked smile crosses his features. “Yes, you are. But no, that wasn’t the answer I was looking for.”
“Oh, but it was,” I tease.
“Don’t you Obi-Wan Kenobi me, Mosby,” he laughs. “Now, give me a quick rundown, and let me have some quality time with my girl.”
He says “my girl” so nonchalantly.
“Shall I pull out my puppy dog face?” he taunts when I hesitate. That’s my undoing. Leaning over the bed, I grab the Boppy pillow from the floor and place it around his waist. He gives me a strange look, but I just let him know it helps to hold her, and he can thank me later.
He just nods. I swear I could probably tell him he needed to feed her upside down while he had a plate on his head, and he would believe me.
I carefully place Gabby in Rhy’s arms and make sure he has a handle on her before removing my hands from them. This man in front of me is holding the most precious thing in my life, and he’s holding her and looking at her as if he knows it, too. One thing Joel nevereverdid. I continue to stare at him while he stares at my daughter. It’s not until he looks up and catches me watching them that I snap out of it.
“What?”
I swallow down the emotion and clear my throat. “So there are fourounces in this bottle. After about every ounce, carefully lift her onto your shoulder and pat her back gently until she burps.”
“Easy enough.” Rhy accepts the bottle and brings the nipple to Gabby’s mouth. Just as I thought, she latches right on.
“Oh, and you’ll need this.” I hop off the bed and grab a burp cloth, gently placing it over his shoulder. “She might get a little fussy with you when you take the bottle away.”
He chuckles but doesn’t lift his eyes from Gabby. “You’re more and more like your uncle Ollie every day. He used to do the same reaction when I took his bottle away.”
I snort at his remark.
“Do whatever you need to do. I’ve got this, Pay.”
“I know you do. But I’ll be quick.”
Rhyland focuses back on Gabby in his arms, and the look of determination makes me smirk. You would think he was doing open-heart surgery or something just as intricate.
I grab a pair of jeans and a top from the closet and pause just in the doorway. Glancing over my shoulder, I save this moment in my memory.
Chapter 12
Rhyland
If someone had told me yesterday that my morning would include nearly kissing Payton for a second time since moving in, followed by walking the aisles of the farmer’s market side by side with Payton while pushing Gabby in the stroller, I would have said that I had a better chance of recreatingDinosaursbetter than they guy who had createdJurassic Park.
I feel like a dick for basically avoiding her all week, but I just felt so guilty after jerking off in the shower to thoughts of her while she slept less than a hundred feet away. What a dick move, especially after I told her to accept my help, yet here I was, nowhere to be found, spending more hours at Tilley’s. I scrubbed every inch of surface in the kitchen and reorganized both the pantry, liquor storage, and the walk-in.
But when I saw Payton in the kitchen this morning, wearing that sorry excuse for pajamas—like, is that what she wears allthe time?—I knew I had to make it up to her, even if she didn’t even realize it.
Step one—help with Gabby. To say it shocked me that Pay had given in to me helping her with only a slight hesitation at first would be an understatement. Holding Gabby in my arms and feeding her for the first time is for sure a core memory for me.
Step two—get to know thenewPayton Mosby. I know everything about the younger version of her from all my time spent in the Mosby house. But who really isthisversion of Payton? Does she still love the same things she did? I know her coffee order hasn’t changed, but what else has? What makes her tick?
“Doesn’t this smell amazing?” Payton says, shoving a loaf of freshly baked brioche in my face. A chuckle slips free as I jolt back, resulting in her flashing me a smile that screams, “I’m sorry.”
“So, I know you’re the professional and all, but I was thinking maybe tonight I could make dinner. I’ve been craving Mom’s stuffed french toast, and this would be perfect for it.” She hesitates for a second, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I mean, I don’t even know if you’ll be home. You might already have plans.”
