It all comes back to me as I sit straight up in bed, and I throw off the covers, wrestle into some shorts I have next to my bed, and move down the hall to see why I’m hearing cries.
Fuck, I need to piss. But if I know anything about crying babies, it’s that I want the crying to stop…not that I have the first clue how to make that happen.
I stop short when I get to the doorway and see Ainsley in there, a nightlight illuminating her just enough for me to see what’s going on. She’s holding Jack and gently bouncing as hestarts to calm. My eyes go to her ass, covered by barely-there short shorts that allow me a peek at the curve of each cheek.
I can’t help it. I’m an ass man. I look at everybody’s ass, okay?
I tear my eyes away and walk into the room. “Why’s he crying?”
“Probably hungry. Can you warm a bottle the way I showed you?”
I’m honestly not sure if I’m capable of that, particularly not at three in the morning and also not when I have a boner from looking at my little sister’s best friend’s ass hanging out of her shorts, but I shake it off and head toward the kitchen, where I flick on the dim light under the microwave and try to remember what the hell I’m supposed to do.
I pull the bottle she mixed before bed out of the back of the fridge and set it in the bottle warmer, and then I head to the bathroom to take care of business while it warms. I feel like I’m sleepwalking. I’m used to a solid, uninterrupted eight to nine hours of sleep a night, and this ain’t that.
I head back to the kitchen only to realize I never turned the bottle warmer on, and fuck, it’s just stupid enough to make me feel completely and totally incompetent. One more little thing that makes me realize I’m never going to be successful at this, and it’s probably not even worth trying.
Ainsley comes out into the kitchen presumably to figure out what the fuck is taking so long, but she doesn’t say anything.
Her eyes flick to my abs, but they quickly move away.
“I forgot to turn the damn thing on,” I admit.
She chuckles. “It’s the middle of the night, Dex. No one would blame you.” She’s holding the baby on her hip, and now I’m getting a nice view of her from the front, where her braless tits bounce beneath a tight, gray cotton T-shirt in time with the way she’s bouncing the kid.
I blow out a breath and force my gaze away.
This is Ainsley Riggs. My little sister’s best friend. She’s here to help me with the kid because she got caught up in a situation. She’s not here for me to ogle her tits and her ass even though I can’t seem to stop.
The bottle warmer thing signals that it’s done, and I pull it off and test it on my wrist. It doesn’t burn me, so I hand it over to Ainsley, who then walks over to the couch to get into a better position to feed Jack.
I stand awkwardly in place. My floor plan is such that the kitchen opens to the family room, and panoramic windows line my entire place, so there are views all around us.
Usually I’m the kind of guy who has all the answers, and when I don’t, I go with whatever feels right.
Right now, though, I’m kind of at a loss. Nothing about any of this feels right.
Do I go with her and sit while she feeds the kid? Do I go back to bed? I opt for option two. I’m paying her well to take care of this kid, and part of the requirements of my own career include good sleep. Maybe not in the offseason as much, but I can’t get too far off schedule. Right?
I mutter, “Thanks. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Dex,” she says, and she sort of singsongs it with her lovely voice as a soft lullaby to the baby as I exit the room.
Why, exactly, does it play on repeat in my head? That’s anyone’s guess.
When morning dawns, I head right for my workout room as I always do.
I get on the treadmill, slip my noise-canceling headphones on, and get to work.
My shoes slap the belt as I sprint to the beat of the music in my ears. I’ve done this workout enough times that I can gaze out the window and lose myself in the sweet feel of pushing my body to its limits. I stare at Las Vegas Boulevard from this distance,and my eyes zero in on the exact block where a woman from my past rounded a corner and plowed right into my chest.
I was giving Tawny a chance to say goodbye to her son. I went for a run. I’d left my place for an hour knowing that Milton was there watching to be sure she didn’t slip out with any of my shit.
I needed to get out. I needed a chance to run as fast as my legs would carry me. I wanted to run away from the situation entirely, and on that very run, my goal was figuring out exactly how I could do that.
But then fate seemed to step in and put someone who could help me right in my path. The answer to my problems. Someone else who was running at the same time. Her ass in those shorts she slept in pops unwelcome into my thoughts.
The answer to my problems…or just the root of another one. Time will tell.
