The moment Jordan took the baby out of my arms, Derek bent down like a football player making a tackle, wrapping his arms around my waist and thenheftingme over his shoulder. I let out a yelp as he carried me to the stairs.
“I probably smell like baby powder!” I protested.
“You could smell like skunk,” Derek growled, “and it wouldn’t stop me from what I’m about to do to you.”
I giggled as he carried me up the stairs. The last thing I heard was Jordan muttering, “Show off.”
Derek’s bed was big and comfortable, and after our erotic activities, I slept like a log. That probably had more to do with how much the fire captain wore me out, rather than the comfort of the bed itself, but either way I slept happily until my alarm went off.
But I woke up alone, with a note on my pillow:
Let’s do more of that when I get back.
I grinned and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Then I grinned even harder when I was greeted by the other two firemen, sitting and eating breakfast. Taylor looked totally normal with a spoon in his hand, but Jordan had a new accessory.
A chest baby-carrier. Which Anthony was sleeping soundly in, his limbs all hanging limply while the huge fireman ate his Corn Flakes.
“Nowthere’sa gorgeous sight,” I said.
“I was about to say the same to you,” he replied. “I like those pajamas.”
I went to the fridge and made sure to bend over like I was reaching for something, even though the orange juice was on the top shelf. The guys were staring so hard I could practically feel their gazes.
Jordan swiveled on his breakfast stool until he was looking away from me. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Don’t want to get too much of an eyeful?”
“Definitely not worried about that,” he replied. “I’m just turning this way so Baby Anthony could get a look.” He bent down and lowered his voice. “Trust me, little dude. You’re going to appreciate this some day.”
“Gross,” Taylor said. “She’s been, like, caring for him like a mom.”
“Eh, she’s more like a nanny,” Jordan replied. “Or a babysitter. I had ahugecrush on my babysitter when I was a kid.”
“I think it’s different when the baby’s so young that I’m feeding him with a bottle,” I said dryly. “To him, my breasts are like a salad bar rather than something sexy.”
Jordan groaned and swiveled back around. “Fine. Go bend over again so I can enjoy it all myself.”
“Nope,” I replied while pouring orange juice. “You missed your chance.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jordan muttered to the baby, who continued sleeping peacefully against his chest.
After a breakfast filled with more playful teasing, Taylor drove up to visit his family so they could celebrate his birthday. Jordan and I spent the day binging romantic comedies on Netflix, and then discussing how realistic the plots were.
Jordan made us grilled cheeses for lunch while I fed the baby. After more romantic comedies, I cooked chicken marsala with roasted veggies.
It was fun. It was like the two of us were playing house—even though it wasn’tourhouse. There was no pressure, aside from keeping the baby happy and his diaper clean.
I liked it. The whole thing was deeply satisfying, like I was getting a glimpse into the future. Of a future Icouldhave with someone.
Or three someones,I thought.
Derek called and told us that he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. He and his sister hadn’t been able to get a meeting with the administrator they were looking for, but she was making time for them on Sunday after church.
Taylor got back from his family birthday celebration a little after that. “I need a drink,” he said the moment he came through the door.
“You had that much fun, huh?” I asked.
He dropped his backpack into a chair. “Don’t get me wrong. I love them. But they’re best in small doses. And six hours with them was about five too many.”
Jordan opened the cabinet to the liquor bar. “Derek did tell us to make ourselves at home. Looks like he has all the ingredients to make margaritas.”