Page 14 of Three of a Kind

Libby is verbal.

She’ll ask for help if she needs it…right?

Only a minute later, the toilet flushes and Libby runs out into the hall. “Noble! I have to wash my hands.”

I’m a solid seventy percent sure that’s what she said.

Shoving myself off the sofa, I aim to help her handle that.

Libby’s brown curls bounce as she heads for her bedroom with freshly cleaned hands.

I shut off the water and chuckle when I spot the tiny set of stairs that lead to a toddler seat clipped onto the toilet.

That makes sense.

I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out how she got herself up there when the toilet is like half her height.

I’m barely back in the living room before Brooklyn’s bedroom door pops open. Her hair is up in a huge, messy bun on the top of her head.

My gaze slides down her bare neck to barely covered shoulders. She’s wearing a spaghetti-strap style dress or shirt-thing.

Hell if I know. I’m not an expert on women’s clothing.

But damn, it shows off her curves in a way that has me licking my lips. There’s a pair of sleep shorts under the top, but they barely fall halfway down her creamy thighs.

“Thank you for watching her, but, uh, where’s my kid?” she asks with a silly smile crossing her face. Her head tilts toward the hallway, and she nods. “She likes to play before her bedtime story.”

“She’s a good kid.” I wipe my hands off on my jeans because my hands are sweaty as fuck.

“Did she actually eat anything?”

“A few French fries and a chicken tender.” I grin, shrugging. “But she demolished that orange. So, you’re obviously doing something right.”

Brooklyn’s face drops, and I take a step forward, trying to determine what I said.

“Yeah, except that I got more focused on trying to get crumbs out of her car seat than about where she was in the parking lot earlier.” She sighs, shaking her head as she stares at the ceiling. “She cried the entire way to the store because cracker crumbs were hurting her legs.”

“And she ran off?” I ask, trying to put the pieces together.

“Right out in front of a car while chasing after that freaking orange.” Her eyes clench shut, and her hand flies up, rubbing her forehead. “A good Samaritan stepped in, but it was my biggest parenting fuckup to date. I haven’t even had time to process it, but it was bad.”

Only a few feet of space separate us.

It takes two strides, and I’m directly in front of her. Her eyes pop open as I grab her hips, pulling her to my chest.

“You need a hug,” I say, a little confused why I’m acting like I have the right to touch her. She doesn’t push me away. In fact, she melts against my T-shirt. The baby belly is bigger than I realized, making it necessary for her to turn to the side a little. “It’s one of those things that’s scary, but you learn from it. What you can’t do is beat yourself to hell about it.”

“Really?” she scoffs.

“Yeah, pretty girl, really.” I run my hand up and down her back. “You weren’t purposely neglectful. Being a parent is hard.”

“Do you have kids?” she asks, tilting her face up to look at mine.

“No.” I snort, leading her over to the couch. “But I am one of six kids. My moms had four alphas to share that workload with, and shit still happened.”

I sit down and bring her to sit next to me.

She grunts, wiggling her hips from side to side. My hand cradles her backside to help her get comfortable.

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