Page 60 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Lilah rubbed her eyes. This all seemed contrived and manipulative. “Did you have to sexually torture Trace and Archer to get them to surrender to the attraction they felt for you?”

Her friends looked at each other and then, in unison, said, “Yes.”

“Liars.”

“All right,” Bridget relented. “Honestly? Archer did it to me. That’s how I know this is going to work. I held out approximately three seconds in the face of sexual torture, and I was determined not to give him the time of day. Ford’s not all that determined. He’s just trying to be all good guy.”

“Or,” Izzy broke in, “you could go back to option one and simply talk to him about how you feel.”

“I can’t do that.” The idea horrified her worse than rubbing up against him at every opportunity and finding a reason to kiss him once a day. “Actually, this whole thing is badly timed. His plate is really full looking after Mia right now.”

Izzy frowned. “I thought things were going well with them.”

“They are, but every once in a while, she reminds him she’s a teenager.” At their blank stares, she filled them in on the kissing incident with Louis. “He spoke with his ex, and she confirmed that at home Mia’s allowed to go on what they call ‘group dates’—a mixed bunch of friends taking in a movie, or a school event—with no parental supervision, or she can have a guy friend over to her house to study or hang out, with an adult present, and vice-versa. But no, she’s not allowed to kiss boys. I think Jen confirmed what Ford assumed. Mia tested the boundaries, and they held exactly where they should have. So she’s grounded through this weekend and basically cool with it. Handy for me, since it meant she and Ford were available to babysit Shayla tonight.”

“And Louis lives?” Izzy asked.

“Lives and breathes. He honestly thought Mia was his age, which doesn’t make it right, because a couple sixteen-year-olds shouldn’t be getting so far ahead of themselves, either, but he won’t make that mistake again. Ford talked with him, man-to-man, and they reached an understanding. Louis gets to continue working at The Goose—which is an important part of his court-mandated conditions for avoiding juvie—and while Ford might have threatened to castrate him, he wouldn’t have fired him. Louis still trails Mia around like a puppy, but he keeps it respectful. It’s so sweet, actually. I think he really, really likes her, enough to slow down and enjoy hanging out with her.”

“Ah, young love,” Bridget said and toasted the air with her wineglass.

“Ford handled it perfectly, even though he worries he’s screwing everything up. After doing the whole ‘you’re grounded for life, and you’re dead’ thing, he tough-loved Mia into contrition and straight-talked Louis about what it really means to be a man. I know it sounds weird to say I was proud of him, but…I was.”

“Well, shit.” Bridget blinked rapidly. “Now I’m proud of him, too.”

Thirty minutes later, after promising her sexual Jedi Masters she’d employ the rubbing up and kissing maneuvers, she walked up the front steps to Ford’s house, ignored the doorbell, and knocked softly on the door—the baby could be sleeping.

Mia opened it, smiling, and a piercing baby scream blasted through the narrow space.

“Oh my God.” Heart racing, she rushed inside. “What’s happening? Is she hungry? Gassy? Did you—”

“She’s fine,” Mia assured her, eyes brimming with laughter. “Come on.” The teen pulled her into the den, where Shayla lay on a blanket on the sofa, in her little pink onesie, and Ford crouched over her. He looked up when they walked in, and she saw the male version of Mia’s amusement on his handsome face.

“Do it,” Mia said and practically bounced onto her toes.

Ford grinned, then turned and stared down at Shayla. “Who’s got a raspberry on her cheek? Huh?” He leaned in as he spoke, inching closer to the baby’s face. “Who’s got a raspberry right”—he dipped his head to Shayla’s chubby cheek—“here?” Then he pressed his mouth to her cheek and blew, producing a loud, motor-boat sound. A distinct giggle quickly escalated to a scream of delight. Her tiny fists gripped his hair.

The mom panic always lurking just under the surface washed away under a wave of joy. Shayla had smiled many times—mostly after feedings or in the bath—but this was the first time she’d really heard her daughter produce a genuine baby laugh. A milestone. Her own smile couldn’t be contained. Ford did it again, and again, making them all laugh every time Shayla giggled and flailed.

Giving the baby time to recover, he raised his head. Lilah watched as his gaze latched on Mia, who stood at the bar, putting Shayla’s toys into the diaper bag. She saw the instant his smile faded. She knew what he was thinking a good five seconds before Mia caught him staring, stilled, and then returned his stare with wide eyes full of warning. “Fuck, no.”

Ford’s trademark phantom smile returned, and he slowly stood. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Oh my God.” Mia attempted to flee as he closed in, then shoved her arms out to block him. “Don’t even—noooo!”

He wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers to her sides, angled his head to get to her neck, and sealed his mouth to her skin. Then he blew.

She screamed, but it was a sound as genuinely happy as Shayla’s, plus a little teenage indignance. Eventually he raised his head and looked down at her. “Say, ‘Ford wins.’”

Mia firmed her lips into a disgruntled line and shook her head. “Ford’s a weirdo.”

“Ford wins,” he prompted and pressed his mouth to the other side of her neck.

“Ah, Jesus. No! You big weirdo. Not again!”

Lilah picked up her daughter, held her close, and snuggled as Ford showered Mia with unwanted affection. Except it wasn’t unwanted. Despite her protests, Mia soaked it up, shrieking in her father’s strong arms and basking in his attention. Maybe because Lilah had never shared a moment like this with her own father, maybe because she realized Shayla would never get a moment like this with Shay, her throat suddenly went tight behind her smile, and her eyes stung. Surrounded by a soundtrack of uninhibited laughter, her already susceptible heart simply melted. This second chance they had was so precious. No matter how it worked out, they’d always have this summer. These memories.

Minutes later, after settling up with Mia for babysitting services, with her melted heart and her happy, sleepy baby, she let Ford walk her to her car. She let him latch Shayla into the car seat. Let herself admire the easy movements of his back and shoulder muscles as he completed the chore, and the stripe of pale skin that peeked out below the hem of his T-shirt and the gap at the back of his jeans. Big, tough Ford Langley didn’t have a vulnerable inch on his entire body, but that unguarded strip of flesh brought out something protective in her—protective and territorial. A sudden urge took her, to run her tongue over the exposed skin and somehow claim it for herself.

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