“Yeah,” he answered, giving me one last look before following her out.
I blew out a breath and turned, grabbing a few more things for the cart before stepping out. Once I had them in their drawers, I walked toward bed three, where Blake had been called to.
When I slid up beside Marie, who was grinning at me, my heart stuttered. There was Blake, in all his six-foot-four broad muscled glory, holding what had to bemaybea three-month-oldlittle girl, his face softening in a way that undid me. Something fierce tangled in my chest at the sight; he hadno damn rightlookingthatgood holding a baby.
Marie nudged my arm with a chuckle. “You’re welcome.”
“I think my ovaries just exploded,” I whispered.
She cupped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laugh. I kept my gaze on Blake, watching as he listened to the worried parents. They explained that their baby had seemed to be short of breath.
Blake gently removed his stethoscope from around his neck and positioned it over the baby’s back. He carefully laid her on the stretcher, his tall frame hovering protectively as he listened to her tiny chest. As Marie stepped forward to assist, I watched Blake smile down at the baby, who stared back at him with wide eyes, her little arms and feet wiggling in response to his attention.
“Let’s get an RSV, and I’ll put in for a chest X-ray, breathing treatment, and labs.” Marie nodded and was already moving while Blake explained the next steps to the parents, then turned and stepped out of the room, looking at me. “Sorry. I would have waited for you to get in there to do the exam, but I didn’t want to freak the parents out any more than they already looked.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said as we walked back toward the physicians’ charting area, and I tried getting the image of him holding a baby out of my head.
After work that night, I followed behind Blake’s Jeep, driving over Gilded Hill Bridge and turning down his road before pulling into his driveway a few minutes later. When we walked into his house together, Maverick met us at the door, tail going wild as he let out a few cute little howls of hello.
“Hey, buddy,” Blake said as he dropped his bag and reached down, scratching his head.
Maverick wiggled right by him and came to me, and I chuckled as I crouched in front of him, turning my face as he tried to lick it. “Hi, Mav.”
“Well,fine,” Blake playfully huffed, earning another laugh from me.
Blake changed out of his work clothes, then fed Maverick. Afterward, he moved to the kitchen and made us something for dinner. It wasn’t the first time we’d done this in the last few weeks since we had agreed to see what happened. This routine had honestly become one of my favorite things, though.
It was so damn domestic, and I couldn’t help the flutter it gave my chest or my desire for it tokeephappening—coming home after a long workday, being with Blake and Maverick, having dinner. It was easy to want it. To crave it.
When Blake finished cleaning up after dinner, he walked back to the living room and paused at the end of the couch, arching his brow. I was lying down, and Maverick, who liked to think he was a lap dog, was lying on top of me.
“Alright, Mav. My turn,” he said, snapping his fingers and waving his hand for him to move. Maverick just looked at him…then rested his head against my chest, earning a soft chuckle from me. “Mav…you gotta move, pal.”
When Maverick let out a grumble, I began to laugh harder. “He loves me. What can I say?”
Blake looked at him again, and Maverick lifted his head and barked. “You’re atraitor.” He sighed, reached down, and popped up a moment later while holding Maverick’s favorite ball. He immediately sat up, making me grunt with the movement. “Go get it.”
Blake threw it behind him, and when Maverick flew off of me to retrieve it, he quickly moved, climbing onto the sofa and settling his stomach between my legs, our faces level as I laughed. Maverick was back within seconds, stilling with his ball in his mouth as he looked between me and Blake, both of us staring at him silently.
“He looks sobetrayed,” I whispered through a giggle.
The ball dropped from Maverick’s mouth as he focused an accusing look on Blake. Without warning, he leapt onto the couch and climbed onto Blake’s back, making both of us grunt with laughter as he nudged at Blake, eager to play.
Blake squirmed above me, most of his weight braced against his forearms, when Maverick buried his snout into his neck, trying to play. “Mav!” He chuckled. “Quit it!”
As I laughed while watching the two of them, all three of us now piled onto the couch...I realized how much I wantedmoremoments like these.
A couple of weeks later, I was at Lucas’s and Callie’s house—everyone had been invited for their annual Friendsgiving dinner.
The guys were watching a movie in the living room. Callie and Morgan were in the kitchen, laughing over wine with their boss, Grace. And I was on the back patio, watching Maverick zip back and forth between me and the backyard as I threw his ball.
“Good boy,” I cooed as he brought it back. I held my hand out to take it back, but he jumped onto my lap on the patio loveseat instead, making me grunt. “You’re not a lap dog, Mav.”
“He seems to like you.”
I glanced over to see Morgan step outside, smiling as shelooked at me with Blake’s dog, and I chuckled. “He likes anyone who will give him attention.”
Morgan smiled. “He’s been around all of us quite a bit, but he’s seemed to take a special liking to you andyourattention. Almost like he’s used to it.”
