I laugh. “What’s embarrassing? Thinking I was a cradle-robbing cougar with my own brother? Yeah, I’d be embarrassed about that, too.”
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t say that’s my finest moment, but that’s not it. It’s that an eighteen-year-old kid is so much better with babies than I am. You saw me earlier, right? I’m thirty-four years old and today was the first time I held a baby. And don’t say I wasn’t terrible at it.”
I hold my hands up in protest. “No way I would even try to say that. Youwereterrible at it. Like, really, really terrible.“ I snicker, remembering the look on his face when I first put Lincoln in his arms.
He huffs a laugh. “Glad to hear we agree. Now, can we get back to my original question? Is your giant of a brother coming over today? I imagine he could use this food to fuel all his”— he gestures to his whole body with a waving hand —“huge muscles.”
I gag again, making Archer laugh more. “Gross. I don’t want to think about that ever again. But to answer your question, he should be here in the next couple of hours. And please don’t mention his hugeness in front of him. He’s had a very good growth year, but he likes to brag about how it was all hard work.” Archer shoots me a pointed look. “Okay, fine. Maybe some of it was hard work. But you can’t work your way into a ten-inch growth spurt. That’s just dumb luck.”
He nods, then returns to what he was doing. I watch while he packs the leftovers into my fridge without waiting for me to say I’ll take them. I’m mesmerized by how his muscles flex and bunch under the snug t-shirt he’s wearing, and heat is building between my legs. If this is the kind of reaction I get in my lady parts while watching him clean the kitchen, I might finally need to open up that new battery-operated boyfriend Charlie got me for my birthday a couple of months ago. I’ve had no interest in sex of any type, even solo sex, in such a long time that it’s been sitting in my nightstand since I took it out of the wrapping paper. Hell, it’s still in its original packaging.
It’s probably not good manners to fantasize about him when I know he has a girlfriend, but he’s too damn sexy to fight it any longer. Besides, there’s no harm in thinking about it as long as I don’t act on it, right? At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself if I work up the nerve to open that vibrator later.
For now, though, I need to focus on what’s happening in the real world. Archer is right about Gavin. My brother eats like a horse. Two horses, actually. Clydesdales.
Archer turns back to me and I barely manage to drag my eyes up to his face before he catches me looking at his butt. He puts his fists on his hips and looks around the kitchen. “I think that’s everything. What do you think?”
While I was busy ogling him, Archer cleaned the entire mess from lunch. There’s nothing left for me to do. That in itself makes it the best meal I’ve had in months.
“Oh, yeah. It looks good.” I must still be dazed because it takes too long for me to mumble, “Thank you. For everything.”
He wipes his hands on the towel I keep hanging on the oven door and steps around the island. “I have to go to work for the rest of the day. Thanks for having lunch with me. It’s been nice getting to know you a little better.”
“Of course,” I say, leading us out of the kitchen and back toward the door. “I guess we’ll talk more after we get the test results?”
“Yes. Can I call you?” My breath catches in my throat.He wants to call me?“After we get the results?” And I’m back to reality.
“Please. We’ll have some things to work out then, I imagine.”
“Okay,” he says, reaching out and patting my arm while half turning to the door. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He turns back to me and, without warning, leans in and kisses my cheek, leaving a trail of tingles dancing along my skin. “Bye, Phoebe.”
I watch him open the door and step out without another word.
That was weird. Right?
The kiss, I mean.
I lift my hand to my face and touch the spot on my cheek where his kiss lingers. Funny. The skin beneath my fingers is normal. I guess all that tingling is under the surface.
I step away from the door and head back to the kitchen, where I left my phone. I don’t want to miss the call from CellSearch, so I’m keeping this little piece of technology attached to me until I get it.
Turns out I don’t have to wait long at all for that to happen. My phone rings the second I make it back to the couch to relax. Okay, fine. I was going to relax by taking a nap. Lincoln will most likely only sleep another twenty minutes or so and I could use that time to catch a few z’s instead of relying on more coffee to get me through the day.
But sleep can wait. This phone call is more important. I press the answer call button and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I say, stifling a yawn.
“Hello. Is this Phoebe?”
“That’s me.” My heart is racing, which is stupid considering I already know what the result is. There’s no chance Archer isn’t Lincoln’s father. Unless, of course, this is some sort of Christmas-miracle-immaculate-conception crap. Which, let’s be serious, I’m the last person any deity would choose to impregnate with their one and only child. I post stuff about rock stars on the internet. That’s not a solid foundation for any religion.
“Hello? Are you there still?”
Shit. I went off in my head for too long and must have missed something.
“Yes. Sorry. I’m here. Could you repeat that, please?”
“This is Mark from CellSearch. I wanted to call you myself to ensure you got your results. Is now a good time?”
