Page 42 of The Bartender's Baby

“You’re the only one who makes me laugh.”

He leaned in, slipping his hand around my neck. “You better get used to it. I got a lot more where that comes from.” He kissed my forehead before standing to clear the table. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m kinda tired, actually.”

“We could watch one of your shows,” he offered. One of my shows, meaning the science docuseries I enjoyed.

With my water bottle in hand, I waited until he finished loading the dishwasher to run it, admiring how the man cleaned up after himself. Honestly, how didn’t we see it? How well matched we were.

I’d been to his house before, for a handful of parties he’d thrown. I’d known he’d done a lot of the renovation work himself, with some help from the guitarist of the Anchormen, the band that played monthly at Walt’s. I’d been informed of the new AC and heat pump he had installed last summer, which he’d been awfully proud to get a good price on. “Those negotiation skills,” he’d said with an eyebrow waggle.

The house was colorful yet understated. The rooms displayed no stereotypical bachelor décor, and he’d clearly put some thought into the personal items he’d set out. A few pictures hung on the walls of him and his friends, his sister, one of him and Lucy at a campsite. This man had a full life, and he’d invited me into it.

Now, he was inviting me upstairs, where I’d never been. He held my hand as Lucy plodded up ahead of us. “I didn’t know where to put your stuff because I didn’t want to be presumptuous.” We stood at the top of the steps, the boxes stacked along the hall. He pointed to the different rooms. “I finished the attic upstairs, which you could use as an office or something. I’ve been using it as a catchall. There’s a bathroom, bedroom, smaller bedroom—” he caught my eye “—that might make a good nursery. And here’s the primary. I took down a wall, so it’s got an en-suite bathroom now. You have your pick of places to sleep. Up to you.”

I didn’t hesitate, squeezing his hand. “With you. I want to sleep with you in your bed.”

He grinned, eyes shining. “Ourbed.”

“Our bed,” I agreed, and I helped myself to running in and jumping on the mattress. Nate followed immediately, leaping on top of me, his head near my belly.

“Hear that, Frogger? You’re sleeping with me.”

TWELVE

NATE

Tabby and I had been living together for three days. Three glorious days.

And yeah, they’d all been right, Evie and my friends. I was competitive and hated losing, but in this instance, let ’em have it. Because nothing had been easier in my life than settling in with her at my side.

After that first night, when we’d snuggled together watching a show about how the human brain works…or something—I hadn’t paid all that much attention—we’d woken up our first morning together, facing each other, our hands almost touching on the mattress. I’d blinked awake a moment before her eyelids had fluttered open, her dark eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise and then going soft when she’d remembered.

Remembered where she was.

Remembered she was with me.

I’d kissed her softly, stroked my hand along her stomach, then tucked the blankets back up under her chin so she could go back to sleep while I went to the gym.

I was up early every morning, no matter how late I’d worked the night before. I had to get my workout in early or else I’d never get it done. Plus, activity in the morning got blood flowingto my brain so I could function better. Which was good because I’d been moving double time the last few weeks between Walt’s and putting my plans in motion for the bistro. And since Tabby had moved in with me, I’d taken her off closing shifts. It had been an argument, but I eventually convinced her I needed to get Bran, her replacement, comfortable with everything. She’d bitched and moaned at me about not letting her train him, but I won that one too because Bran was going to bemymanager, not hers.

This morning, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from CrossFit to buy a few things to make my apology breakfast and a small plant. Tab never struck me as a flower type of girl, but when I spotted the cute little squirrel pot with the tiny succulent in it, I grabbed that too. I parked behind the house and let myself in the back door, where Lucy waited. Although she’d been cool about Tabby moving in, she was still attached to my hip, and anytime I left the house, she lingered by the door for my return. At first, it was adorable. Now, it was annoying as shit. Especially when she got overanxious and tore something up.

“Luce, come on. Tab is upstairs. You should be up there with her,” I told my dog, who danced around my feet. I wiggled my foot to get her off. “Come on. Stop. Go lie down.” I nudged her away with my toe. “Go.”

After a minute of pawing at me, she lay back down, and I put the groceries away except for what I needed to make the pancakes. With the batter cooking in the pan, I tossed in a few blueberries. I also liked to add some sliced almonds to mine, but nuts were the one food I didn’t know if Tabby could eat or not. I scooted upstairs in my socked feet and opened the door to the bedroom, assuming I’d have to wake her up to ask if she liked or could even eat almonds.

But she was definitelynotasleep.

I froze, one hand on the doorjamb, the other hanging limply at my side, totally and completely useless, while I gawked at Tabby—my Tabby—getting herself off with her hand.

That was my job!

But could I move from this spot?

No, I absolutely could not, too entranced at how her neck arched, her eyes squeezed tight. Enthralled at the way her feet slipped on the fitted sheet, failing to find purchase. And fucking engrossed in the pretty pink skin of her pussy. She held herself open, the index and middle fingers of her left hand in a V, revealing her clit, her right hand moving, fingers working in tight circles.

Fuck, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

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