But that’s it.
Oh, and a clean shirt.
But that’s really all.
I’m not ready to admit that for a mom with a five-month-old who doesn’t always sleep through the night, doing all that was like dressing up for a black-tie event. And I did it because Archer is coming over. At least when I had to get dolled up for the Christmas parties when I started looking for him, I had Charlie and Gavin here to help. Today it was me rushing through it by myself, trying not to breathe too hard in case Lincoln heard it and woke up before I was ready. Yes, I know that’s crazy, but I didn’t want to risk waking him.
Not that I actually needed to get ready. I mean, it’s not like he’s coming here for me. His message specifically stated he wanted to come over and visit Lincoln. So why was I driven to get spruced up?
It has to be because I’m still anxious over not knowing his thoughts on custody arrangements. I needed to burn off some of the extra energy caused by the stress. And shaving and moisturizing most of my body, then doing my hair and makeup all while breathing as shallowly as possible, was a way to do that. Yeah, that’s it.
It’s got nothing with wanting him to think I look good. I don’t care if he likes the way I look. That has nothing to do with it. Right?
The doorbell rings, cutting off that line of thought before it goes down a road I’m not ready to explore.
He’s here.
I rush to the door and fling it open with a little more force than necessary, catching it before it slams into the wall.
“Hey, come on in,” I say, attempting to play it cool and failing miserably. Why does he make me so nervous? I mean, besides the obvious. Here he is on my porch again, looking good enough to eat. He looks amazing in suits, but there’s something about the way those jeans are hugging his thighs that makes me want to throw my panties at him.
“Phoebe,” he says, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. “Thanks for letting me come over. I brought these for you.” He places a box in my hands. “Gourmet donuts. I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so I got an assortment to try.”
I open the box and inhale the delicious scent of the sweet fried dough, using it to distract me from my lust-filled thoughts. Now that my libido is awake, I can’t seem to keep it under wraps. I need to remember to open up that battery-operated boyfriend from Charlie so I can finally take the edge off.
“And Amanda from my office said you were, uh, admiring the Christmas Cheer set on her desk? So I brought you that, too.” He hands me another box. “I hope that’s not too weird?”
I grin. “What? Oh my god. That’s amazing. Thank you so much. I haven’t stopped thinking about these since I saw them. I can’t wait to set them up and take pictures.”
He chokes out a nervous-sounding laugh and looks to the side. That’s weird. Maybe he doesn’t take pictures of his Christmas decorations? Well, that’s just too damn bad. It’s Lincoln’s first Christmas, so I plan on taking pictures ofeverything.
“Coffee?” I ask, smiling up at him. “Lincoln is still asleep.”
“Should you wake him up? Won’t he have a hard time sleeping later if he sleeps too long?”
I bark out a surprised laughed. “No. No, no, no. The first rule of babies is: don’t wake a sleeping baby.”
He chuckles and slips off his jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door. My breath catches at the sight of him in a t-shirt. If the jeans are unfair, the t-shirt is downright evil. It hugs his muscles, giving me a view of the spectacular chest I remember from my x-rated night with Santa.
If memory serves, I licked that chest a time or two that night. I kind of want to lick it again. Lick his chest, and all the other parts I licked that night, too.
“Phoebe?” Archer gets my attention, a knowing smile on his face. Can he read my mind? “You alright?”
“Huh, what? Yes, fine. I can’t wait to get my mouth on these donuts.” I spin on my heel to speed walk away. “How about that coffee?” I ask, dropping the box of donuts on the dining table as I walk by.
He chuckles and follows me to the kitchen. “I’d love one.”
I pour two cups and bring them, along with cream and sugar, to the table. Archer adds a little cream to his cup and then offers it to me, pouring in a splash when I nod yes. He does the same with the sugar, adding a little for me before adding some to his cup.
“So, what was that you were saying about sleeping babies?” he asks before taking a sip of his coffee. I can hardly tear my eyes away as he licks his lips afterward..
“Oh, that? It’s something my mom taught me. She said that babies sleep when they need it. When you wake them up from naps, they sleep worse at night. The only exception was when he was a newborn, I had to wake him up to feed him, because he was premature. The nurses in the hospital told me that sometimes newborns, especially those that are born a little early, forget to wake up to eat. Sometimes they sleep so long, when they wake up they’re so hungry it hurts.”
“Why do they need to eat at night?” He sounds genuinely perplexed, which makes sense. I didn’t understand it at first either.
“Babies have tiny little stomachs.”—I make a circle with my thumb and forefinger to illustrate how small they are—“They fill, and empty, quickly.”
He nods and takes another drink. “Seems like I have a lot to learn about babies.”
