Page 50 of Shootout Daddies
It’s stupid. But it makes something tight coil inside my chest.
When we pull apart, I tilt my head. “How was practice?”
“Brutal,” Hunter answers, grabbing a Gatorade from the fridge and tossing me a fresh bottle. “Coach has us running line drills like we’re prepping for a damn Olympic relay.”
Rhett nods. “Leo’s still got war flashbacks from the last time we lost in shootouts. And we were supposed to meet Brooke today,” he adds a beat later, guilt creeping into his voice.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I haven’t told her yet anyway.”
“Still,” he mutters. “You’re juggling everything. And I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”
I step toward him. “We’ll figure it out.”
He brushes the hair back from my face then—quietly—he says, “How about we clean up and hit the store? We still need baby stuff, right?”
I nod. “We can probably find something open.”
He kisses me again. Then one more time, slower, deeper. I can feel the way his body relaxes just from being close.
“You’re so good to us,” he murmurs, and there’s a weight behind those words that presses into me more than his hands ever could.
My voice is rougher than I want it to be when I answer. “You guys make it easy.”
He hugs me tight. My body hums from the contact, stomach dipping. I press my cheek to his chest and inhale the clean sweat-and-soap scent of him.
When he pulls back, I’m flushed, dazed.
“Go shower,” I say. “We’ll leave after.”
Rhett turns to Hunter, grin spreading across his face. “I’m gonna rinse off. But while I’m gone… think you can take care of her?”
I blink. “Wait, what?”
He looks back at me, playful and bold. “Hunter and I made a deal. Since he was up in the morning with you and the baby, he reaps the rewards.”
My throat goes dry. “Rewards?”
“He gets to eat you out, Ivy. Didn’t want you to feel neglected. Figured he could warm you up while I clean off. Then if you’re still in the mood, I can eat you out after.”
Hunter’s already smirking, his hands on my hips. “Oh, I’ll make sure she’s satisfied by the time you come back.”
“You serious?” I whisper, mouth dry.
Rhett’s already halfway down the hall. “Just don’t wake the baby.”
Hunter leans in, eyes glinting. “Part your legs for me, sweetheart.”
I obey.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rhett
We finish clearingout the guest room just after nine.
The crib is set up beneath the window, close enough that the soft night breeze filters in but not so close she’ll catch a chill.
Ivy lines the drawer with folded onesies we picked up earlier. Hunter tucks the extra diapers into a woven basket beside the changing table.
