For a moment, I can only blink at my brother. “You talk? When?”
“When I take him food.”
I feel like I’m talking to an alien fucking species. “How often do you take him food?”
Another jerk of his shoulders. “Couple times a month.”
“How the fuck did I not know this?”
“You never asked.”
“Jesus. Well, I invited him to dinner. Get him to come. I think he’s lonely.”
My brother rolls his eyes. “Of course he’s fucking lonely, why do you think I take him food?”
“Just fucking get him to come to dinner, would you?”
Smirking now, Eli lifts his hand in a snappy salute. “Yes, sir.”
“Asshole,” I mutter as I stalk from the kitchen. I pause just outside the dining room to drag in a deep breath. The last thing I want is to scare my Little girl just because my brother got under my skin.
But then I step into the dining room and I have to pause all over again. Gunther is back in his chair, with my babygirl on his lap, and she’s giggling wildly at something he’s said. The scene sends the jealous beast inside me back into a rage, and it’s all I can do not to snarl at them.
Then Josie looks up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of me, and the beast quiets once more. “Daddy! Uncle Gunny was justshowing me all these fun little tricks in the program I use for writing.”
“Uncle Gunny?” I ask, raising my brows at my friend.
Gunther shrugs. “Figure it’s easier than Gunther for a Little girl.”
I know for a fact Josie would have no problem pronouncing his name, but it’s actually kind of sweet, so I don’t contradict him. “Fair enough. I brought your milk, bug.”
But when Josie reaches for the bottle, I change course and pass it off to Gunther, who blinks in surprise. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Feed her, of course. She’s far too Little to hold her own bottle.”
Josie’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t object. It takes a moment for Gunther to get her situated on his lap, but when he does, a rare smile curves his lips as Josie suckles at the rubber tip.
Very interesting, indeed.
Pulling out another seat at the table, I watch as he explains different things to my little lovebug, who soaks up all the information with wide eyes while she drinks.
When she’s done, Gunther hands me the bottle and Josie, and we say our goodbyes. He promises to come back for dinner sometime and I walk him to the front door.
As soon as it closes, Josie wiggles in my arms, trying to get down. “Daddy, I need to work.”
I frown at the clock in the entryway. “It’s naptime, baby. You can write a bit after your nap.”
“No.” Her voice is firm, no longer the Little girl I’ve had in my care the past few days, but the strong-willed woman I met the other day in the candy shop. “I’ve already missed too much writing time. Put me down, please.”
“Josie, you need to rest.”
“I need to not miss my fu—my deadline.”
“Good girl catching yourself before you said that naughty word. But you are still going down for a nap,” I tell her as I head for the stairs.
In my arms, she sighs. “Can we compromise?”
“Compromise” is not a word I use often, especially where Little girls are concerned. But I’m curious to see where she’s going with this, so I nod. “What kind of compromise did you have in mind?”
