Page 32 of Tusk's Fury

His head snaps over to look towards the bedroom, then he glances down at his watch and asks, “When is your shift over? It’s getting late.”

I open my mouth about to tell him the truth, but then I find I can’t. Instead, I tell him the closest thing to the truth that I can muster, “Her mother’s been really run down since giving birth. She needs some time to herself.”

His eyes dart towards the bedroom again. “You’re responsible for her overnight? How long is this gig for? I only ask because taking care of a baby on your own full time can be really stressful. I don’t want you ending up stressed out and overwhelmed too.”

“I’m strong and healthy. She’s a good baby, no trouble, really. I won’t get overwhelmed.”

“Wow, so this is an open ended kind of arrangement?”

Tossing my fork down on my plate, I realize that I’ve lost my appetite. “Yeah, I’m keeping her until her mom feels better. Maybe we can talk more about that tomorrow. I’m pretty beat right now.”

I push myself up to my feet. “I’m going to feed the baby and get her back to sleep then turn in for the night.”

His eyes narrow on me, and like the dad he is, he asks, “Don’t you need to make her a bottle?”

I freeze, struggling to figure out how to respond. Because if I’m caring for another woman’s baby, of course, I’d need to make bottles.

He offers, “I can make a bottle for you if you give me the supplies.”

Of course, he can. He’s got four kids, soon to be five with his ex-wife. This man has probably made hundreds of bottles since he first became a father. I find myself hating that I can’t just tell him the truth. But I’m already mentally and physically exhausted. I just don’t have it in me to hash this all out tonight. So, I shake my head and tell him, “I made bottles before we left, and I have a bottle warmer in her bag.”

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at me. I turn and quickly head to the bedroom before my milk starts leaking through my shirt. I hear him state quietly, “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure you do.”

Tusk is smart, especially about all things family related. He’s onto me, but I don’t care. I’ll nurse Victoria one more time and get some sleep. We’ll talk it all out in the morning, when I’m not on the verge of having a hysterical crying fit. Okay, maybe I’m not quite that stressed, but I can see myself getting pushed in that direction.

Once the bedroom door is shut and locked behind me, I race to her, tenderly pick her up, and drop down into the only armchair in the room. Opening my shirt, I start nursing her. It’s strange how much of my world is dedicated to what my tiny daughter wants and needs, this is my happy place.

Chapter 12

Tusk

For the first time, I really pay attention to Brittany’s body as she heads back to the bedroom. I thought when I first saw her at the cabin that she looked a little different, like she’d put on weight. I have to admit that she looks downright lush with the way her ass jiggles when she moves. She’s thicker around the middle too, and her breasts look amazing. Maybe being in Alaska suits her and she doesn’t feel the need to conform to California beauty standards.

This situation with the baby is strange. I guess private childcare providers work overnight sometimes. But she seems really attached to that baby. She had three fuckin’ diaper bags and a ton of luggage. It makes me wonder if she’s taken this child to raise and doesn’t want to tell me because she’s not planning to reconcile with me, which means it’s none of my business. That would be my fuckin’ luck.

Brittany is just the kind of woman to do something like that. She’s always been good to me, selfless, kind and loving. If she saw a baby about to be abandoned, she’d try to do something to help. Maybe it’s a temporary fostering situation or something like that? Then again, that couldn’t be right. They wouldn’t let her leave the state on the spur of the moment with a foster kid like this.

I run one hand through my hair, trying to shove this baby thing to the back of my mind, because God knows, I’d get back with her whether she has a kid or not. I’m the one club brother who seems to be drowning in kids anyway, so what’s one more gonna matter?

I pack up the food, save what I can keep without refrigeration, and nibble on the rest so it doesn’t go to waste. I’m just deciding whether to sleep on the sofa or go back to waiting outside her room on a chair, when there’s a light knocking at the door. I pad over to open it.

Tex is on the other side. “Lemme in, brother,” he says.

I hiss, “Quiet. Brittany and the baby are sleeping.”

When I step back from the open door, he walks into the room. “They’re sleeping without you?”

“The fuck, Tex. Are you stupid? She’s not gonna have me sleeping in the same room as some stranger’s fuckin’ baby. This is her job, ya know?”

Tex rolls his eyes and mutters, “Someone’s fuckin’ stupid, and it ain’t me.” Pointing to the leftover food, he raises his eyebrows.

I say, “Help yourself, brother. If you don’t help me eat it, it’s just gonna go bad.”

He drops down into one of the chairs and grabs a piece of chicken.

I go ahead and grab another piece, so he doesn’t have to eat alone. “Clara and the twins asleep already?”

“Already? It’s almost midnight.” His expression tells me that I’m way off base in my thinking on this one.

---