“Teenagers do find unique and interesting ways to make their lives harder. The tales I could tell would make your hair stand on end. And whenever I think I’ve seen it all, they find a new way.”
“My cousin’s kids are that way. They’ve taken every insane dare the other brothers have come up with. I’m kind of shocked they haven’t figured out a way to jump out of a plane yet.”
“We had two sixteen-year-olds do that. They got fake IDs and paid a pilot to take them up with the money they made working at the bakery. Did I mention that they are two little girls? I’m pretty sure they’re going to kill themselves before they turn twenty-one.”
“They should meet Rath and Ruin.”
Who names their kids Rath and Ruin? “Please tell me those aren’t their actual names.”
“They aren’t, but it’s close enough. No one uses their given names except their mother when the boys are in trouble.”
“Which they probably hear quite often?” If I were the mother of two boys like that—
“Nope. They’re scared enough of their mother not to get in trouble near her often.”
“Does she—”
Max shakes his head. “No. Annika loves those boys more than anything in the world except maybe their father.”
“That’s sweet.” Sometimes it’s hard to believe in love like that. Yet I have a half dozen or more examples of it all around me.
“War and Annika are anything but sweet—”
“Fiona.”
I turn towards where Paisley’s voice is coming down the street up to the alleyway Max and I are sitting in.
She rushes around the corner carrying a baby that I’ve never seen before.
This can only mean one thing…
A Baby?
Max
It’s tempting to glare at the woman walking around the corner into our private little spot. Talking to Fiona this morning has been natural and easy. The last thing I want is to be interrupted.
The one positive part of this distraction comes when Fiona stands up and walks away. It gives me the opportunity to enjoy the view. Fiona is wearing another dress that hugs every one of her curves. Thankfully, this one isn’t white, though it looks soft enough to make a man long to touch it.
The woman has a baby in her arms and a diaper bag slung over her shoulder.
I know that look. I’ve used that look and had it used on me many times before.
Fiona is getting roped into babysitting.
I almost feel bad for her, but it’s totally intriguing at the same time. She has a kind heart, which means she’s probably a great babysitter. But babies that age can be trying.
It’s probably only for an hour or two, so sleep deprivation won’t be an issue.
When Hope was a baby, sleep…didn’t happen very often. Even knowing she was in a family member’s arms didn’t help.
“Hey, Fiona.” The woman stops.
“Who do you have there, Paisley?”
“This is Dash. His mother put him in the safe baby box a couple of hours ago—” Paisley stops and stares at me like she was caught telling state secrets.
Fiona follows her gaze to where she’s staring at me. “You don’t need to worry about Max. He’s a Vincenti. They know how to keep a secret.”
