Page 45 of Forever Player

I snicker. “I’ve been apprehensive.” Can he not see that?

“I know,” he says, as if it was obvious. “But beneath that apprehension has been appreciation. Am I wrong?”

I want to huff but I am not a toddler, so I roll my eyes instead. “You seem to be right on.”

He winks. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I know how to press all your buttons. Now, I’m going to get ready because watching you breastfeed is giving me a semi.”

He takes off and me… I’m smiling like a damn fool.

* * *

After eating a hearty breakfast buffet that Brett made of yogurt and berries, which he argued was important for me because I needed to get enough calcium because I’m nursing. When I asked how he knew, he replied he’d read a book he bought on his Kindle about a baby’s first months and what a mom needs to do while breastfeeding. In addition to the buffet, he also made thick slices of French toast from a whole grain bread he bought at the supermarket and froze. That was topped off with fresh maple syrup. I have never been so spoiled in my life. Mom didn’t like cooking very much. For as long as I could remember we were on our own for breakfast and lunch. Dinners growing up were always something simple. Sometimes she would be petty and not make enough for Dad, who spent extra hours working outside on the farm. Then they’d fight. My brothers and I would run off to all the corners of our house just to get away, but there was no escaping the screaming and awful fights.

Now Brett is downright spoiling me. I don’t know what to make of it. We walk through the winter fair. Brett is wearing a big puffer coat and has a beanie on his head, and he looks downright drool-worthy pushing Maylee’s stroller. People are watching us and I guess the cat is out of the bag on who Maylee’s dad is. A part of me loves the idea of anus, walking with our daughter at the fair like a little family. Only I have to remind myself I barely know this man. I steamrolled into his life days ago and his response has been a dream. Brett is a champ, but I don’t know his layers. Does he go all in on something and lose interest? There is no way he is a keeper. I remember the night we were together. It was clear to both of us that we were a one-time gig.

“Should we check out the farm animals over there?” he asks. There are a bunch of sheep, goats, and llamas in a pen. He pulls me from the thoughts I can’t seem to stop.

“I don’t see why not.” I shrug. It’s a cold day but the fair is busy. It usually is every year.

We pass by some food stands, and we see Lev and Jacob, who are here selling cheese.

Brett shakes both their hands and then offers to man the stand if they need a break. Jacob takes one look at me and answers, “Thanks, bud, but you stay with the girls.”

Brett shakes his hand again and says thank you and we head over to the farm animals.

When we get to the animals, I take Maylee out of the stroller and lift her up so she can see them. I have her in a warm winter snowsuit and a fluffy hat that looks like it has floppy dog ears. She’s all bundled up.

“What is that?” I point to the animals, and she kicks out her feet.

“Turn to me. I’ll take a picture of you two,” Brett offers. I turn and smile for him. I don’t remember ever feeling this content. He snaps some shots and then he walks up to us. “Selfie time.” He turns his phone on us and gets in on the pictures. He smiles and makes some goofy faces, which makes me laugh out loud. I don’t know who this guy is but he isn’t the same man I had a one-night stand with. There is something lighter about him. He seems at peace. He mentioned having closure where his dad was concerned but that can’t explain this drastic change, can it?

We move on and head over to an axe throwing booth.

“I’m staying away from there,” I protest.

“Just stand back there. I’m going to win you and Maylee that big brown teddy bear,” he says. The stuffed animal has a white belly and a red bow tie and is adorable, but he’d have to get the axe on the bull’s-eye and everyone around us is missing the mark. I realize that Brett is kind of like a big teddy bear himself.

“That’s a tough shot,” I tell him.

“Honey, did you just put a challenge in front of me?” he says playfully, sounding offended.

“Maybe.” I shrug with a smirk.

“Because you must know I’m a competitive man. I play a professional sport for a living.”

“Really?” I joke, as if I didn’t know.

“So let’s make a bet,” he announces, and I know I’m in trouble.

“Oh no, no way,” I protest.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re scared of a little bet?” he goads, not knowing that I don’t back down from a challenge either.

“Fine, Brett. What are you thinking?”

“If I nail that bull’s-eye by the second throw, I get to sleep in your bed. Promise I’ll behave, but my back is killing me.”

I frown. Truth is, he has been nothing but kind since his arrival in Sugar Meadow. He’s also been a gentleman, other than the way he ate me on the bench of the truck last night, but I was no lady last night either. I felt feral for him.

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