“It’s all right,” I said, resting a gentle hand on Jaxson’s shoulder.
He stood up, and I took a step back, making room. There wasn’t much space between the sofa and the coffee table for the two of us with Isabella on the couch. “Izzie, I need you to stay on the sofa, okay?”
“Yes, bossy Daddy,” Isabella said.
“I’m telling you, I’m raising a teenage daughter already.” Jaxson gestured for me to follow him outside. “Do you think you can give me a hand with the fridge, or is it too much for you to do?”
I may not have been as strong as Jaxson, but I didn’t want to be forced to sit on the couch and watch. “I can help.”
“Okay, good.” He undid the ropes, and together we guided the fridge out of the truck and into the house. Jaxson did most of the lifting and heavy work. I guided the fridge and made sure it didn’t crush him.
Twenty minutes from start to finish, the fridge was in the kitchen, and the electric cord was left accessible for when the generator was brought over. “Thank you again for everything.” I hated being in his debt, but twice he’d helped me, and I would not forget it.
“Don’t mention it. I’m going to wheel the generator over. Can you stay here and keep an eye on Izzie?”
“Sure.” I didn’t know the first thing about kids.
She sat on the couch, her feet kicking the air, probably trying to reach the coffee table, but her legs were too short. He wouldn’t be gone that long.
He slipped out the front door and left his truck. I frowned, watching from the window, curious why he didn’t bring his vehicle with him.
“Where did Daddy go?” Isabella asked.
“He’ll be right back.” My stomach tensed. I could not deal with a crying toddler. Dashing over to the sofa to sit beside her, attempting another distraction to keep her from growing upset. While I wanted to know if there was a girlfriend or partner in the picture, I wasn’t sure how to delicately ask a three-year-old that question. “What’s your favorite thing to do with your Daddy?”
“Tickle fight!” she proclaimed and stood on my sofa, lifting her shirt to show me her belly.
“Do you want me to tickle you?” I asked her.
Isabella grinned and vigorously nodded her head. My fingers pretended to tickle her, but I didn’t even come close to touch her before she squealed and giggled, jumping back.
“Oh, come on. That didn’t tickle!” She’d make a superb actress someday. Jaxson was right about her practically being a teenager, being melodramatic.
“Tickle!” she squealed and tried to tickle my neck. Her fingers chilly and wiggling, but it wasn’t the least bit causing me to laugh.
I pretended to giggle and tickled her hips, and she squirmed with actual fits of giggles. Her legs kicked, and her chin bent downward as she squealed with delight.
I let go for a second, allowing her to catch her breath. I didn’t want her in tears or upset.
“More!” she leaped into my arms. “Tickle more!”
I tickled her a little more, watching her thrash as she giggled, her cheeks rosy. “Does your Daddy have a girlfriend?” I asked, not entirely sure she could answer between her fits of laughter. I probably shouldn’t have been asking about him, but I couldn’t stop myself, the curiosity getting the better of me.
“Daddy likes to play with the boys.” She giggled and slipped from my grasp. My hands paused.
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I expected to hear. While I shouldn’t have been disappointed, my heart sunk like an anvil in the sea.
Jaxson stalked into the house, an extra pair of boots in hand. “What’s that you’re telling about me, Izzie?”
She snuck away from me, climbed off the sofa, and ran toward her daddy. “You like to play with Declan and Aiden.”