That’s something new for me.
Settling Caleb into his high chair, I give him a toy to play with while I fix his breakfast. Sports news is playing softly in the background. With football season around the corner, it’s mostly on which players are looking the best at training camp. I don’t pay much attention. Until we start talking about which team is in the running to win the cup, I try to shut off that part of my brain.
Although, maybe it could be a good distraction right about now. Because no matter how hard I try, my mind keeps going back to the woman living in my guest room.
Her schedule and mine—well, Caleb’s—clash. If Caleb is napping, you bet your ass I’m sleeping. If he’s going to be up in the dead of night, I at least want to catch some z’s when I can. No one tells you this when you have a kid.
Well, maybe they do, But no one would have toldmebecause I didn’t plan on having kids. I guess I’m learning as I go.
Glancing over my shoulder, a happy smile sits on Caleb’s face as he watches me. Do parents ever get tired of looking at their kid and thinking how cute they are? Because Caleb is fucking adorable. I love that he looks like me. His light brown hair sticks out in every direction and, even when fussy, he never seems to be truly unhappy.
As far as kids go, I lucked out.
“Here you go, bud.”
I set down the bowl of oatmeal and spoon on his highchair tray, turning back to grab his bib so I can start feeding him.
Except we don’t get that far. Because the warm food collides with my neck.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
I turn to look at Caleb, who is grinning from ear to ear. The bowl is upended, with a mess all over his high chair tray.
“Everything okay in here?”
Of course Stevie chooses this moment to walk in.
“Apparently not.” Oatmeal drips down the back of my neck. “You’d think I’d have learned by now not to leave things within arms’ reach of Caleb that he could grab.”
“And now it’s all over you.” Stevie smiles at me. “Let me help.”
Stevie grabs a handful of paper towels and hands them to me before taking another one and wiping up Caleb’s food.
“Thanks.” I wipe the sticky oats off my neck, dropping the towels into the trash bin.
On top of needing to make another breakfast for Caleb, I’m going to have to shower and do another load of laundry now.
Why is that something no one ever tells you about kids? It’s an endless cycle of laundry.
Lesson learned. Don’t leave food in front of a baby.
“Mind if I grab a cup before I leave?” Stevie asks, pulling my attention back to her.
She really is stunning. Her blonde hair is swept up into a high ponytail. The pants she’s wearing are doing nothing for her, but that black tank top? It clings to her every curve. Her shoulders? Who knew shoulders could be such a turn-on.
“Sure.”
I grab the half-full pot and a fresh mug and pour her a cup, then start to make a new bowl of oatmeal for Caleb.
“Thanks.”
“Where do you work?” I ask. It’s about as interesting as asking about the weather, but I know nothing about this woman.
“I’m an aesthetician.”
I blink at her. “Umm, what?”
She smiles. “I work at a spa. Southern Bliss? It’s downtown, but I specialize in facials.”
