“Ah, yes; my granddaughter has both of those things. The rattle makes a weird sound.”
Heather smiled. “I have to confess, whenever one of my friends was expecting, I hated it because I never felt like I could pick out the right gift. Half the stuff they had for babies was plain creepy. And then the whole breast pump thing. I always thought it was some kind of torture device, created by a sexually frustrated man who wanted to watch women have their boobs sucked by a machine. I can’t imagine that those things feel good.”
Once again, Heather stunned him with her words. “A machine that…”
She raised her hands to hover over her rounded breasts without touching them. “They help suck the milk out so that the mother doesn’t have to breastfeed the baby directly. Anyone can give the baby a bottle with the pumped milk.”
His eyes were zeroed in on her breasts, and he couldn’t seem to look away. “That does sound...odd.”
“Hey, Commander, my boobs aren’t doing the talking. My eyes are up here, big boy.”
He felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Right, no breast pump then. What other ideas do you have?”
