“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He blew out a breath and shut his eyes. “Is this going to get easier?”
“Yes. Just relax. You’re not being graded. And look how cute she is.” I nudged him until he opened his eyes again.
“She’s beautiful.”
“She looks like you. I hope you aren’t being narcissistic.” I was deliberately teasing him, hoping he would shake off his nerves and wash her hair. But that would require touching her, and he seemed reluctant to do that.
“You think so?”
“Look at this little wrinkle right here.” I smoothed my thumb between her faint brows, and she splashed her feet in the small amount of water in the sink. “Totally a Brooks trait. Mason has the same one.”
“You’ve looked at Mason enough to know, hmm?”
I gave him a sidelong glance. He was being strange tonight. “Are you going to wash her hair or not?”
“I’ll do it.” He grabbed his bottle of shampoo as if he was a doctor reaching for his scalpel and then squeezed it into his palm. The thick gel flowed onto his wrist. “Too much?”
“No, it’s fine.” He had to have a win right now, so I’d just agree. Hopefully, she didn’t have terribly sensitive skin. “Go ahead,” I encouraged when he hovered over her head.
She peered up at him, not seeming afraid. Just curious. Her eyes were so huge and startlingly blue. I didn’t know if they’d stay that color, but they were close to Jared’s so I hoped so.
Yeah, I was sort of failing at that whole ‘keeping my heart at a safe distance’ thing.
Gently, he rubbed the shampoo into her downy hair, smiling as she let out one of her patented giggle-hiccups. I helped by rubbing a few of the soapy bubbles into the fluff over her ear and into some of the straggly hair at the base of her scalp, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to stare at me or him.
“See, she likes it. That warm water feels nice, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I like it.” He shot me a sidelong grin, and I realized how close together we were standing, how our heads were bent at the same angle, how his thigh was pressing into my hip…
Too much. Abort.
I jerked away from them and grabbed a dishtowel. “Looks like you have the hang of it.” Somehow my tone seemed cheerful, not desperately horny. At least I hoped so.
Having those kind of urges around a baby couldn’t be right. Then again, maybe the kid was stirring up all of this. The desire to procreate was instinctual. It wasn’t because his trousers cupped and stretched just right around certain body parts that should not be highlighted in any way.
“Tired?”
Was I imagining the disappointment in the question? Probably. Exhaustion could make a person hear and see things that weren’t there.
“Yeah, it was a long day.”
“You’re telling me. And I’m on at six.”
“You didn’t call anyone while I was at the store.”
He shook his head.
Of course he hadn’t.
“I’m on at three. If you can get off—I mean, if you can be home before then, I can watch the baby.”
Oh, hi, flaming cheeks, welcome back to the party.
“I can do that.” Relief moved through his big frame, making his shoulders sag even as if he continued to carefully shampoo his daughter’s hair. She didn’t have much of it, but he seemed to need to make sure every fine strand was saturated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind. She’s a sweetheart. Aren’t you, Samantha?” I touched her wrinkly leg, and she craned her neck to look at me in that owlish way of hers.