Wes made his way over. “Looks like Adam made a quick hand-off.” He shoved the diaper bag at Bran.
Bran tried to hand it back. “You’re the father. This is your job.”
Wes held up his hands. “Can’t. Got burgers to burn on the barbecue. Besides, I change diapers all day long. This is good practice for you.” Wes walked away, chuckling.
Bran looked nervously at Ireland. “You ever done this before?”
“She’s your niece—haven’t you?”
“No.”
Ireland covered her mouth, hiding a smile. “This should be interesting.”
Dammit.
Chapter 15
Ireland followed Bran into the living room, which was relatively empty compared to the kitchen and entry that were filled with large Cade men and their significant others.
She sank to the carpeted floor and tucked her legs beneath her.
Bran squatted and set Harlow on the carpet, the diaper bag beside his thick thigh. His nose scrunched. “She’s ripe.”
Ireland cooed at Harlow, who was getting ready to bolt if Bran didn’t pick up the pace. She sent him a side-eye, and caught him frowning at the diaper bag. “You run four restaurants, but you can’t change a diaper?”
He flashed her a comical glare. “Of course I can change a diaper.” He pulled a diaper from the bag, studying it as though it were a mystical contraption. “How hard can it be?”
Ireland held back a grin. She and Cali had young cousins, and Ireland had changed a diaper or two in her time. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. Especially with an active baby like Harlow.
Ireland was making every funny face in the book to keep the baby giggling and in one place while Bran played with the stretchy tabs on the diaper.
He stared at the baby, shrugged, and tugged off her leggings.
Ireland raised a finger. “You might want to grab wipes.”
“Wipes?”
“For her bottom. You know, before you remove the diaper.”
“Right.” Bran searched the bag and pulled out a rectangular baby wipe package.
“And a changing pad,” she added. “To keep the carpet clean.”
Bran frowned and reached back into the bag, rifling around until he found a rolled-up pad. He set it out, then laid Harlow on top, who promptly tried to wiggle off.
Bran gently rested one large hand on her tiny chest, tickling her beneath her chin to keep her laughing and in one place.
“You can wipe her bottom and fold the wipes up in the soiled diaper,” Ireland suggested.
Both hands occupied with keeping Harlow still, he said, “You sure you don’t want to take over? Or help. I’d take help.”
“No way,” she said. “Watching you is highly entertaining.”
Bran grumbled, and Ireland crossed her legs to get comfortable. She considered pulling out her phone for photo evidence, then thought better of it. Bran might chicken out if she drew too much attention to him, and she wanted to witness this event. A muscly, hot guy changing a baby’s diaper? Didn’t get cuter than that.
Bran examined the diaper on Harlow now that her leggings were off. The poor guy looked frightened.
Ireland pressed her lips together, holding back laughter. “Everything okay?”
