Page 2 of She Autumn Be Mine

Most women might find themselves attracted to a nice man like him, with a body formed by Navy SEAL training, and his black t-shirt hugging him just so. They’d adore his shy gazes that landed on me at times, as if he wouldn’t want to settle them on anyone else.

But not me. I trusted him as a friend. I didn’t trust myself to take things any further. Relationships had never been my strong suit. Except the last one resulted in Stetson. For him, I’d regret nothing, no matter what I’d had to endure.

Me: Friend being the key word there.

Nanette: Really? When I come to visit, you won’t mind if I flirt with him then?

Me: Shut up.

Nanette: LOL. I knew it. I need all the details about you and this cowboy.

Me: He babysits. That’s all.

Nanette: I’ll be the judge of that. I’m making plans to visit. Checking my calendar to see when I can get time off from work.

A knock came at the door.

“Sounds like Jake’s here.” Rarely was he late.

“Baba!” Stetson held his arms up, and I carried him to the door. Mama had been his first word. Baba came in a close second after Jake started babysitting while I worked my night shifts.

The moment I opened the door, the tall, burly man smiled as he stood there, juggling grocery bags.

“Hey, there’s my little guy,” Jake said. And with a wink to me, “Hi, Autumn.”

“Baba!” Stetson reached his arms to him.

“Hold on, buddy.” Jake moved through to the kitchen as if he were completely at home here, and set the bags on the counter. Nanette’s sexy-ass man comment floated through my head, but I shoved it back out.

Too late. My eyes had already taken inventory of him, my body completely aware of his presence, from his broad shoulders, the forearms, the flex of his back, all thanks to a muscle t-shirt I’d never seen on him before, but right for this summer heat. A completely useless list for a woman who was never going to touch.

We were just friends. My pulse kicked up anyway.

“Alright, come here,” he said and clapped his hands.

Stetson practically dove out of my arms to get into his, and that’s how close the two of them had become. He lifted him high overhead. Baby giggles echoed off the apartment walls. He lowered him enough to bump noses, then tossed him gently up again, with a “Wee!”

If only Nanette could see this grown—okay, sexy-ass—man saying “wee.” A smile tugged at my lips.

Why in the world did I pull a Saturday night shift at the Sapphire Saloon on Stetson’s first birthday? Before I teared up, I set my phone down and focused on unloading the bags.

I pulled out boxes of Mac and cheese, hot dogs, milk, bread, eggs, bananas, my preferred brand of cheap coffee, vanilla-flavored cream, cocoa puffs cereal to feed my chocolate obsession late at night, a pint of my favorite chocolate cookie double chunk ice cream, and even diapers and baby wipes. How had he come to know what I liked?

“Jake, you didn’t have to buy all of this.”

“I’m hungry tonight. Didn’t know what you had on hand.”

“After all that barbecue I saw you eat today?” I cocked a brow.

“Psh. That was lunch. A man’s gotta eat dinner. Can’t go to sleep on an empty stomach. Right, buddy?” He held up a hand for a high-five, a skill Stetson was just beginning to understand.

“He took a long nap after the party. I think he’ll be awake all night. You’ll have to figure out how to tire him out.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll put on some tunes and we’ll have a dance party. We’ll toss some balls around. I’ll even get on all fours and let him ride on my back like a true buckaroo. Promise not to buck him off. He’ll be sound asleep by the time you get off work.”

I shook my head and let it go. Guilt pinched me anyway. Was I selfish, keeping a great guy like him occupied? What if there was a woman out there who would make him happy—one who could give him his own son? What if Jake McCall never found her, thanks to all these evenings he spent here with my boy?

“Jake, I think it’s time I found a new sitter.” This arrangement was only supposed to be temporary when Mrs. Thompson’s husband took ill a few months ago. Until then, the delightful couple I’d met at church had been a godsend, watching Stetson as I worked nights, their own grandchildren living down South. “You deserve a life.”