Be My Hero(48)

Even though I knew his claim couldn't possibly be supported in the real world, it was nice to hear him say it so adamantly.

"Well, you are my hero," I said, making the claim sound flippant as I  tossed my hair over my shoulder. "I wouldn't expect anything less from  you."

I loved knowing I could make such bold, arrogant claims, and he knew I wasn't actually serious.

He grinned and motioned toward the table that was already set with his  mismatched plates and silverware, pulling out a chair for me to sit. "My  lady?"

"Why, thank you." Since Julian could sit up fairly well in the high  chair Pick had bought off Mrs. Rojas, I placed him in that and buckled  him up. After making sure Skylar was still sleeping in the bouncer, I  sat in my chair and Pick tucked me in.

He moaned and closed his eyes after he took his first bite. "I'm going  to get fat if you keep feeding me like this." His voice was muffled  through a mouthful of noodles.

I snorted and waved a hand, waiting until I swallowed to say, "Oh,  please. I heated up frozen pizza, poured a bowl of cereal, and stirred  together a skillet dinner. That's definitely not gourmet cooking. If  anything, such measly meals will slim you down."

"Trust me. These have been three more meals than anyone has cooked for me in years."

I didn't like knowing that no one had ever really taken care of him. He  was the special type of man who should be pampered. And I was really  getting into this pampering shit. My mother would be appalled if she saw  me now, but I actually loved being a homemaker.

I think the mom life completed me.





Chapter 19


PICK


That night, I came home from work to find Eva curled up on the couch asleep.

"Oh, hell, no." This was not going to fly with me.

If she was going to stay the night in my apartment, I didn't want her  anywhere but in my bed. So I scooped her up and carried her back to my  room. She stirred along the way.

"Pick?" I loved her sleepy, blurry voice, especially when she was saying my name. "What're you doing?"

"You are not sleeping on that couch."

She curled more fully into me and rested her cheek on my shoulder. "Well, neither should you."

I shook my head. "My place, my rules. No sexy new mother is allowed to sleep in anything but a bed."

Neither of us mentioned the extra bed in Tristy's room, and she had to  know it was there. She'd passed the opened doorway to get to my room I  don't know how many times.

I guess we'd silently agreed it was off limits. But it felt wrong for  her to sleep where Tris had slept. It felt as if Tristy had soiled the  mattress and made it too dirty for the likes of my Tinker Bell.

As we entered my bedroom, I saw that both babies were asleep in the  crib. I had to smile. They could've been brother and sister. It was as  if this was how things were meant to be.         

     



 

Eva didn't resist when I laid her on the mattress, but she did grab my  shirt when I tried to straighten. "You stay too. This bed will hold us  both, and I'm far and away from being a modest, maidenly virgin. Plus, I  trust you."

The I-trust-you part won me over. Blood surged through my veins, hot and  thick. My skin prickled, suddenly extra sensitive. I was going to sleep  beside my Tinker Bell.

Oh, fuck. She was going to be right next to me, all night long.

My arousal thrummed painfully hard, but I nodded in agreement because no  way was I turning this down. Then I held my breath, irrationally afraid  she'd come to her senses if I breathed wrong. If she knew how much the  very idea of lying beside her turned me on, she'd probably freak.

"Just . . . uh, just let me just change, and I'll be right back."

She was already fast asleep again by the time I returned, wearing a  hole-ridden t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She'd scooted to the  outside edge, probably so she could take the side closest to the kids,  which meant I had to crawl over her to reach the inside of the bed that I  had pressed against the wall.

"Night, Tink," I told her softly before kissing the crown of her head.

"Mmph," was her only reply.

I smiled, killed the lights and crawled in with her. The blonde silken  tresses of her hair, illuminated by the nightlight that was plugged in  by the crib, looked like spun gold. I wanted to reach out and touch it,  run my fingers through it, and bring it to my nose to smell. But I was a  good boy and kept my hands off the woman I'd been dreaming about for  the past decade. She was inches away, safe and secure, and so damn  beautiful. Our children were sleeping only a few feet from us. Life was  pretty damn spectacular.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face. And again, I slept right through Julian waking up in the middle of the night.



***



The next night, Eva stayed over again, and she slept in my bed. Again.  And once again, I crawled under the sheets with her after I got home  from working at the club.

But unlike the two nights before, I woke to suckling sounds in the early hours.

"Julian?" I mumbled, rolling over to face her.

"He's already gone back to sleep," she answered. "I'm up with Skylar now."

Shit, she didn't need to get up this many times. "Need me to do anything?"

"Nope. Got it covered." And she did; she'd thrown a blanket over her shoulder, covering all the action.

My squinted eyes suddenly weren't so squinted with sleep anymore. "Are you breastfeeding?"

"Mm-hmm."

I sighed and reclosed my eyes. "That is so hot. Breastfeeding mothers  kick ass. If I wasn't this tired, I'd be incredibly turned on right  now."

Screw it; I was already growing wood.

She laughed softly. "Go back to bed, Patrick."

I smiled. "Call me that again."

"Patrick." She teased my hair with her fingers.

Damn. "Yep, I'm having a serious wet about this dream tonight."

Then I fell back asleep to her amazing laughter.



EVA



By the beginning of the fourth day of playing Nanny Mercer, I was  exhausted, and yet strangely invigorated. I just felt good. Good about  myself, about what I was doing for Pick and Julian, about how I was  spending my days. Just plain good about everything.

The fatigue was beginning to get to me, though. Today, I was going to  sleep whenever the kids did. That's all there was to it. Besides, I'd  mostly caught up with all the housework, even though Pick kept insisting  I didn't have to do so much. I felt better being in a cleaner place,  plus I wanted to help him out since he worked himself like a dog. And I  had to admit, I loved all the appreciation I saw in his eyes every time  he came home to a hot meal or freshly washed sheets.

Oh, God. I sounded like June Cleaver.

I'd always made fun of those women who didn't work, who stayed home like  the obedient little housewife, barefoot and pregnant, and always  sweating over a hot stove. But after being that woman for the past three  days, I knew I would never make fun of her again.

This kind of life took some serious girl power. It was no cushy job; it  was more like slave labor. I was so freaking tired, sometimes my eyelids  hurt from keeping them pried open. I don't care how much Pick was  paying, no dollar amount would ever compensate. Except, I already felt  compensated. I went to bed each night with this awesome feeling, knowing  I'd accomplished something. I'd set a plan of how to tackle all my  duties, and I reached every goal, every day.

I'd honestly never felt as good about myself as I did now.

It was this emotion-this love I was cultivating for the babies I  nurtured as well as the man who kept looking at me as if I could do no  wrong-that made it all worth it. Even when Julian woke up earlier than  usual, right after I'd been up with Skylar for the past two hours  because the girl just wouldn't go back to sleep, I felt quenched.         

     



 

Popping out of bed before he could wake Skylar again, I snagged him from  his crib and turned back to the cozy nest I'd shared with Pick two  nights in a row. But Pick wasn't there. I paused and cocked my head  until I heard the shower running from the single bathroom down the hall.

Wow, I hadn't even stirred when his alarm went off.

After settling Julian and myself back on the bed, I propped some pillows  behind my back so I could sit comfortably, and then I pushed up my  nightshirt to unsnap my bra.

"Are you hungry, little guy?" I asked as I cradled him into position and drew his face up to my nipple.

I didn't realize what I'd just done until he began to suck. The strength  of his pulls was a lot stronger than Skylar's. It snapped me right out  of my foggy, half-asleep daze. With a gasp, I bolted upright, suddenly  fully awake.

"Oh, shit." I was breastfeeding Julian.

This had to be wrong. He wasn't mine, and I was only watching him for a couple days.

What Pick would say if he knew?

Julian didn't seem to mind, though. The kid kept drinking while his  chubby little fingers rested possessively against the side of my breast.

Instantly, something inside me softened. I stroked his head, letting him  have his fill. Wet nursing was no new thing; it should be okay. And  Skylar certainly wouldn't go without. The preemie rarely drank much;  there was more than enough to go around. And everyone said breast milk  was so much better for a child than formula. Plus, if they both ate this  way, I wouldn't have to get up so much in the middle of the night,  shuffle to the kitchen, warm a bottle, carry it back to bed . . . yada,  yada, yada.