Page 6 of The Baby Clause
He was moving across to the box now and reaching in.
“You’ll be fine. I’m right here and I’ve held lots of pups before.”
“If you’re such an expert, maybe you want to take him. You like kids more than me.” He pulled back and stared at me.
“Jere, I’m the sheriff, not a nanny. I can’t drive around with a baby in the back of my cruiser. Whereas you are in a nice, cozy cabin. Just perfect for a young kit.”
He couldn’t be serious… but everything from the way he stood, feet firm and shoulder width apart with his arms crossed, said that he wasn’t messing around. AND, now, my brain was supplying thoughts of how much more fun it could be if we were messing around. I bet I could make him growl. But reality had a way of bursting my little bubble of fantasy. This was not the way I expected my morning to go. I was hoping for a stress and drama free day. A day where’d I potter about the cabin, read for a bit, maybe watch a Christmas movie? Not one of those hallmark ones, a proper classic like ‘White Christmas’. I’d watched it hundreds of times, possibly thousands, but Danny Kay was a hoot and who didn’t melt a little after hearing Bing Crosby sing? Not me, that’s for sure. I loved that movie so much I had two copies, so maybe the story line meant more to me than I wanted to analyze. Was I looking for my own knight to charge in on a white horse? Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. After all, you can’t meet the potential love of your life hiding out in the woods.
Now here I was, my little world of me-ness about to be torn apart by a tiny bundle of trouble I didn’t ask for, or want. Why couldn’t Mason just take the kit with him? He had that stubborn look again that I normally loved to try his patience. Only it was abundantly clear by the set of his jaw that he wasn’t backing down from this. I was going to literally be left holding the damn baby. I could feel my shoulders sag under the weight of realization that for the moment, I couldn’t get out of this. But I was far from being happy about it and if Mason thought I was giving in easily, he was dead wrong.
“I don’t care what that paper says, he’s not mine and I’m only agreeing on the proviso that you look into who he belongs to, and as soon as possible. I want a paternity test done. It is the only way to prove to you that he’s not mine, and someone is behind this.”
“Jere, the only thing that seems off here is the fact that you now have a kit to care for that you don’t want, well tough. He’s now your responsibility. I will show you how to hold him. I’ll even go back to town and get you everything you need to take care of him. But until such time as proven otherwise, he’s yours.”
“… And when I’m proven right, that this is just some crazy mix up?”
“Then I’ll find who’s behind this and set things right. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay, I suppose I can do this for a few days or so till we figure things out, but don’t forget about that test.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we have some test kits back at the station. I’ll bring one with me, and if it will make you feel better. I’ll take a test too, just to prove how accurate it is.”
Mason relaxed enough that his veins no longer stood out on his neck. I wasn’t sure how old he was as wolves aged a little differently to foxes, yeah it was a size thing. The smaller the shifter, the longer you live, but on the downside, they have fertility cycles that limit their reproduction. Otherwise, the world would be full of mouse-shifters.
I had nothing against them. They were cute as hell, all small boned and no taller than five foot eight at the most, not even the alphas. A wolf the size of Mason, well over six feet and stacked as he was, well, he could be over a hundred-years-old while only looking thirty-five. Was that the reason he was always so cranky, or was that only when he was near me? Was he around before cars were invented? Was that why he was hating on my precious wheel baby so much? Ugh, and now I actually had a baby. Reality really sucked, I just wanted five minutes of fantasy time picturing Mason as some gun-slinging cowboy, his shirt unbuttoned and holster riding low on his hips, but no. Accepting I had no choice in the matter, I shuffled closer to the basket. Yep, it was still there, only now it was looking slightly different. Or were my eyes playing tricks on me? Not that I’d made a study of it. Sorry HIS face before. I didn’t want HIM imprinting on me or me on him. It wouldn’t be good to get attached, not when he’d be on his way in a few days’ time. But now that I look at his hair, what little I can see under his rather cute hat it looked to be a shade or two darker, more Masons color than mine. I have no idea what this means, only that I’d had no way near enough coffee to cope with this crap.
Best get this over with… now how best to go about it. Faced with actually holding the thing. Oops, HIM! I could feel my hands start to tremble again and my knees were feeling a little weak.
“How… um, how do I pick him up, do I just-you know, grab him, or is there a way I’m supposed to do this?”
I’d not heard Mason walk up beside me. I almost turned into him; our chests almost touched. But I felt the reassuring solidness of his body brush against my side. Again, I had to shake off the thought of just how much I wanted Mason to touch me. Even if it was by accident.Ugh, I truly was a sad and confused creature.
“Here, I’ll show you, then you can try it.”
His big hands gently eased under the kit’s arms, then he slowly lifted the baby up.
“See easy, now you try.”
I was still more than a little unsure that I was doing it right, but I tentatively reached in and took a firm hold, just as Mason had shown me. My heart felt like it was beating too fast and my head felt a little too light there for a second, but I didn’t pass out.
“That’s it. Lift him slowly and support his head and we can have a good look at him. Did he come with anything else or just the stuff in the box?”
“He’s not an action figure, Mason.” I was suddenly feeling defensive, which was not at all like me and was just another sign of just how much ‘out of sorts’ I was feeling.
“I’m aware of that Jere, you know what I meant, so cut out the sass.”
Cut out the sass? Who was he kidding? There was no way for me to cut that out because if I did, I’d have nothing to hide behind but the real me. The one who didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, let alone be with others. So, of course, I did what I usually did when someone felt the urge to call me out on my shit. I did the mature thing of sticking my tongue out and blowing the loudest raspberry I could. I didn’t miss Mason’s reaction. His eyes zeroed in on my mouth and his eyes took on a feral glow. Okay, Mason wasn’t completely immune to my charms. Good to know.
“And no, I checked around outside and there was just the box.” Pre-empting his next question.
“Jere, you need to either support his head or hold him against your shoulder. You can’t hold him up like that till he’s stronger.” Mason took the baby from my hands and cradled him against this broad chest. “See, more like this. Now, you.” His voice took on that superior tone, the one he used when talking to an idiot.
“How come you know so much about babies?” I’d been wondering about that since he arrived.
“I’m the oldest of seven and I had to learn to look after the younger pups when my parents were busy. I’m also an uncle and pack leader, which means I’m involved in all aspects, including pups.”
He handed the child back to me and I placed a hand under his rather padded tushy and another across his back, holding him against my shoulder. While the kit was like this, all docile and cuddly. I had to be honest and say he wasn’t too bad, but earlier when he was screaming his lungs out, sounding like a fire truck, I was more than tempted to find ear plugs and make a hasty retreat. Actually, now that I think about it, I was going to need to dig those out because eventually he was going to let rip again.
