Page 28 of I've Got You

“No.” He shook his head. “But we will be.” Davis nodded. It was short, decisive, and seemed final.

I opened my mouth to speak but was pulled away when Libby turned and grabbed hold of my T-shirt.

“Pu, pu.” Wide-eyed, she stared in me in expectation. I had no freaking clue what she wanted.

“She wants to get up.”

I cast a quick glance at Davis and nodded. I swept Libby up and placed her on the bed, but rather than letting go, she held on and used me as her balance so she could really go for it. She seemed to jump as hard as her light weight and small legs could manage, barely making a dent on the mattress, but by her smile, you’d think she was touching the stars.

I dislodged her grip and held her hands, allowing her to bounce a little more freely. Her giggle was sweet and loud and contagious. I joined in with her laughter. “Higher,” I encouraged. “Up as high as the sky.”

“Pu, pu,” she gurgled before throwing herself as far backward as she could. She was a heart attack waiting to happen. My stomach lurched, my heart stuttered. It didn’t matter that rationally I knew she couldn’t go anywhere—my grip was secure and held true—but Christ, for a moment there….

Davis snorted beside me. “Come on, stinker. Let’s get you changed and ready for dinner. You’re going to give Scott here nightmares.”

A sound of agreement slipped out of my mouth. “She do that a lot?”

“Yep.” Davis laughed as he took Libby from me and pushed her lightly to the bed, guiding her down, but from her reaction, it was clear she not only thought she was falling but that the whole thing was hysterical. “And usually she manages to break free. She can be a slippery creature.”

I grinned. Flat on her back and still giggling, she wriggled around, even as Davis tugged her toward him. He swiftly changed her diaper and had her standing back before me, asking me to hold her up while he wiped her hands.

“You’re a bit of a pro at this.” I flicked a quick glance at Davis as I spoke. “I’m impressed.” And I was. My brother-in-law, Stan, admittedly the only guy I’d ever really seen and knew with children of his own, did the bare minimum when it came to parenting—and being a husband. I knew not every parent was as great as my sister or Davis.

“Thanks.” He stepped closer so that I sensed his heat at my side, and the pitch of his voice lowered. “Before we go down”—I turned to look at him while he spoke, fighting hard to not gulp at the close proximity or the intensity in his eyes. Libby remained securely bouncing around—“I shouldn’t have to say I meant what I said, as I hope by now you believe I really don’t bullshit. But just to be clear, it’s going to happen.” His dark gaze roamed my face, no doubt looking for my reaction. Despite the heat that I knew colored my cheeks, I gave nothing away. Mainly because I couldn’t pinpoint one specific emotion or reaction amongst the many racing around. “When we’re both ready.”

This time I had no doubt he was talking about him and me.

I want to be ready.The thought came to me loud and clear, strong and assured. Any conflict brewing faded away. It was absolutely, a hundred percent, positively a truth I could get behind. I wanted to be ready. More than anything. It would be my prize, what I would aim for. A moment with Davis, even if the outcome didn’t amount to much, was a target I could get behind.

The journey was my own for sure, but focusing on someone else, reaching for something I was keen to savor, it helped. The pressure eased a little; the burden, while far from gone, weighed a bit less. “I can get behind that.”

If Davis was surprised by my words, he didn’t show it. Instead, he winked and stepped back, not touching me once. Disappointment at the lack of contact warred with common sense. I had to findme, and stumbling into something with a man, with Davis, headfirst would be my cock doing the thinking. While tempting, the baby in my arms was enough of a reason to make sure we did this right.

Chapter Eleven

DAVIS

There was definitelyzero arrogance in Scott, not anymore, and not after his frozen face of horror connected with my semi-amused one when he dropped and broke his fifteenth cup. Katie, Phil, Craig, and even Ted, one of the new bar owners I’d met a few weeks back, had wagers going about Scott’s epic fails.

“I’m so sorry.” Mortification colored his words. He quickly looked around and I saw his shoulders visibly relax when he realized there were only a couple of customers present. We were the only two staff here closing up. “I’ll pay for it.” He squatted and picked up the pieces while I reached for a pan and brush and stepped over to him.

Crouched beside him, I nudged him a little. “You know I have to mark it down, right?”

He groaned, knowing I was not talking about payment, but rather about the bets. “Seriously? Can we not hide this one?” He glanced over his shoulder, then returned his focus to me, saying, “Bill’s here. He could have easily knocked this one off the table picking up his trombone.”

“I heard that.” Old Bill’s voice echoing around the quiet café had Scott widening his gorgeous gray eyes and me laughing my ass off. “I’m in on that bet too. Just two more and I win two hundred,” Bill said, finishing with a gruff laugh.

He really did carry his trombone with him everywhere. There were a few residents like that around the place: quirky, openly outspoken, and often hilarious. It was one of the things I was really fond of about this town.

I swept up the debris and stood at the same time as Scott. “You sure you did surgery and shit, are still licensed, actually cut animals and stitched them up?” I jested.

Scott gave me the evil eye, his middle finger snaking up to his nose and subtly rubbing. I snorted. Definitely no arrogance, but there was so much more to Scott than I could have ever realized. The past two weeks of him working for me had presented a very different Scott to the one I knew, the town knew, and I thought on some level, Scott knew. He was quick and witty, he was surprisingly observant of the needs of those around him, and of course, he was as clumsy as all hell. It was all a revelation, but the latter confused me the most.

From what I knew about him, mainly from the tidbits Carter had passed my way, Scott was an excellent vet, and despite the obvious, had an exceptional reputation in his field. Clumsiness, I assumed, was not a prerequisite for successfully practicing veterinarian medicine.

“Are you in on it?” He stood as he spoke, gaze still on me.

I smirked. “Maybe.”

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