Claire stifled a giggle. “He’s trying so hard.”
“Maybe a little too hard,” Derek returned with a grin of his own. “I’ve never seen him so…”
“Eager to help?” she finished.
“I was thinking more along the lines of lost, like a cat chasing its tail, but call it what you will.” Derek’s grin faded. “Seriously though, take care of yourself and Baby Thumper.”
“I will.” Another contraction slammed into her and she unconsciously reached out and grabbed Derek’s free hand, her fingers tightening. “Contraction,” she said apologetically.
“Strong grip,” he said with a wince.
“Wimp,” she accused without heat. She made an effort to loosen her grip.
Logan rushed down the stairs, her large green bag in his hand this time. “Got it.” He held it up in triumph, slightly out of breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip to keep from telling him to stop asking her if she was okay. His intentions were good, and he looked so worried and yes, lost, like Derek had said.
“Derek, where the hell are my keys?” he barked.
“How the hell would I know?” Derek returned, taking a bite of taco. “Where did you put them?”
“Jesus, I forget.” Raking a hand through his hair, he started for the kitchen. “On the island, I think.”
A few seconds later, he was back, rushing into the living room. “I think I might have put them on the coffee table,” he called over his shoulder.
Derek and Claire shared a smile. It was vastly entertaining to see Logan so undone when he was almost always in total control of everything in his world. He’d certainly never forgotten where he put his keys before.
He rushed out of the living room, still empty-handed except for her overnight bag. “Goddamn it, I can’t find the bastards.”
As he paced by them again, a musical jingle could be heard coming from one of his pockets.
“Ah, Loge?” There was a huge grin in Derek’s voice.
Logan spun on his heel, turning to face his friend. “What the hell do you want? Can’t you see I’m looking for my keys?”
Derek cleared his throat. “I know. What’s that noise coming from your pocket?”
A look of dawning understanding washed over Logan’s face. He reached into his right pocket and extracted the elusive key ring. “Damn. I feel like such an ass.”
“Probably because you are one,” Derek offered with a cheeky grin.
“Go to hell, Shaw,” Logan growled, taking Claire’s arm.
“Probably will someday,” Derek acknowledged, sounding grim. “But not yet.”
“I’d love to stay and bicker with my jackass of a best friend, but you and I have a baby on the way.” Logan tugged Claire to the door. “Can you make it out to the car, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Logan.” She dutifully trailed in his wake.
“Good luck,” Derek called around a mouthful of taco. “Call me and keep me posted. I’d like to know as soon as I’m an uncle.”
“That can be Logan’s job,” Claire returned, looking back at him over her shoulder. “I’ll probably be busy at that point.”
“I understand.” Derek cocked his head. “Would it be too much to ask that if it’s a boy you name him after me? I’ve always liked the idea of a little Derek Junior running around somewhere.”
“Derek Junior,” Logan growled. “Go eat your goddamn taco.”
The door closed on the sound of Derek’s laughter.
