I focused on the fact that while he was hella annoying in his overprotectiveness, his intentions were good. He was trying to piss me off. Anne had a brother who when she was in trouble couldn't be bothered to help her, so I tried to be grateful for Bran.
At nineteen, he’d taken over the family company and guardianship of me. It couldn't have been easy. But the skills and traits he developed to finish raising me and build the family company made him a very difficult person to get along with. I wasn't a fifteen-year-old girl anymore. Why couldn’t he see that?
I was pouring creamer in my coffee when Mo’s crying reached my ears. It was amazing how something so small could make so much noise. It was unusual for me to hear him while I was in the house. I tilted my head listening to get a clue as to where he might be.
At the knock on the front door, I had my answer.
I took a long sip of my coffee to steal my nerves, then I headed to the front door, opening it to see Noel gently bouncing the baby.
He gave me a sheepish smile. "Hey neighbor. "
I stared at him with suspicion. "Hey neighbor yourself."
"Listen, I know that I'm infringing on your solitude out here, but you're the only person that has ever been able quiet Mo down and I'm feeling desperate at the moment. I would do anything if you would work your magic on him again."
I really should tell him no and shut the door, but he really did look desperate, and the poor little baby was out of sorts. I held the door open wider and nodded for them to come in. "I can't make any promises. The last time could've been a one-time fluke. But I'm willing to try."
I had a little experience with babies when I was with my niece, but Brandie was a pretty easy going baby. I’d never had to calm her during a crying jag.
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this." He made it to the living room, handing Mo to me. As before, I cradled him in my arms, rocking side to side as I sang the song my mother sang to me and Bran when we were kids.
Noel sank down on the couch dropping his head back and closing his eyes. The poor guy looked exhausted. Sexy and exhausted.
Don't let the hot single dad get to you, Harper.
I turned my attention to Mo. Despite his crying, he was a cutie. He had soft caramel skin, large dark brown eyes, and few strands of brown hair. It occurred to me that he didn’t look anything like Noel, who had dark hair, closer to black hair, bright blue eyes, and a fairer complexion. It was possible Mo took after his mother.
But…God! Could it be possible the baby wasn’t Noel’s, but instead part of an elaborate plan Bran had set up so I wouldn’t be suspicious that Noel was next door?
I shook my head because that sounded nuts, and yet, Noel appeared right when I was walking in front of his house and now showed up wanting help with Mo. Perhaps it was his way of checking up on me.
Look what you’ve turned me into, Bran. Even the crazy ideas seem totally plausible if I think you’re behind it.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Noel
It was quite possible that I was going to fall asleep on Harper's couch. I couldn't remember the last time I had a full night of z’s.
All this crying couldn’t be normal. I’d called the doctor again wondering if maybe there wasn't something seriously wrong with Mo, but she assured me that the constant crying would subside. I was getting ready to contact another pediatrician, but Mo had worked himself up into a state and nothing was working.
I didn't want to bother Harper, but I was desperate. Hearing my child cry with such unhappiness was unbearable. I'd never in my life felt so helpless.
She worked her magic, gently rocking the child and singing a song. A few moments later, the wailing dialed down to a whimper, and a few minutes after that he was asleep.
I stared at her in amazement. "I try to do that for him, and it doesn't work. I even sang at a higher pitch so maybe he’d think it was you. All he did was cry louder."
"Maybe it's the breasts."
There was no way she could use the word breasts and not have my attention immediately go to hers, which were magnificent. I hoped she thought that I was looking at the baby.
"My chest is softer than yours. Or maybe it's how it felt when his mother held him. I don't know. I don't know anything about kids."
"Looks like you are a natural."
She shrugged. "I don't know."
I tilted my head to study her. A year ago, if anyone had asked me about Harper, I would have described her as vapid and high strung, like her brother. She appeared to be a woman that only lived life to enjoy its luxuries. She certainly wasn’t someone that I thought would ever want children because it would ruin her figure.