This Thing Called Love (7 page)

CHAPTER 7

“Go ahead and practice changing a diaper on your dolls,” the smartly dressed woman at the front of the Community Center Health Education classroom instructed. From the doorway, Olivia glanced at the clock on the painted white brick wall. Class had begun ten minutes ago.

She’d been late dropping Annabelle off at Alex’s because the baby had spit up all over her sweater. She’d changed, but just as she went to strap the baby in her car seat, Annabelle had done some business that needed changing ASAP.

Olivia released the door a little too early and it slammed shut behind her, causing twelve couples to look up from their seats at long rectangular tables. Every woman in the class was visibly pregnant.

What had she expected? This baby-care class was for soon-to-be parents, not a crash course for someone who had suddenly inherited a four-week-old. Olivia lifted her chin a little. What choice did she have? She needed help, and this was the place to get it. She took a deep breath and walked in.

“Welcome. I’m Dr. Bailey.” The petite instructor, who had been talking to a couple in the first row, pointed to a vacant table in the center of the room. Much to Olivia’s relief, Dr. Bailey wasn’t pregnant too.

Olivia nodded and sought her seat, feeling chagrined that she’d already missed information she sorely needed. The last diaper she’d put on Annabelle had left a nasty red crease on her thigh. Not to mention the massive up-the-back accident that had made her late.

A life-sized doll lay in the middle of the table, along with a small stack of disposable diapers. Olivia sat, grabbed a diaper, and tucked it under her doll’s bottom. After a little struggling, she taped one side but found it too loose. She pulled off the tape and readjusted, but it wouldn’t hold anymore.

She was about to try again with a new diaper when she heard the click of the door. A tall, lean man entered in a T-shirt and jeans, a Yankees cap pulled down low on his forehead. A double take told her the worst.

Brad.
The normal-guy clothing couldn’t disguise his rock hard body, his confident saunter. A slow burn crept into her face. Their gazes clashed across the room, but she quickly busied herself with her task. What was he doing here, when she had specifically
un
invited him?

Suddenly Brad was next to her, scraping back an orange plastic chair and settling in like all he needed was a beer and a remote to feel more at home.

“Need any help?” His grin spread wider than a crooked car salesman’s, immediately making her suspicious. Had he come to support her or show her up?

“Your head better?” he asked, casually sprawling his long legs under the table. He actually sounded concerned.

“Much, thanks.”

“Well, you look a lot perkier.”

She frowned. “Perkier? Cheerleaders are perky.
Breasts
are perky.”

“Yes, they are.” Brad’s gaze dropped briefly to the V-neck of her gray sweater but she punched his arm hard enough to divert his gaze.

“Ow,” he said in mock distress, rubbing his arm. “I just meant that you don’t look like the blood-drained zombie you were before. Forgive my bad adjective.”

He removed his cap, a big mistake. His dark hair hung in thick, precisely cut layers, still damp from a shower. When his extraordinary light green eyes sparkled, full of amiable good humor, an unwanted spark zinged straight to her groin. Why did he have to be the sexiest man she’d ever met?

The relationship book she was currently editing advised that no woman should ever date a “ten.” “Tens” were full of themselves and had way more ego issues than your average nice-looking guy. Rather, the book advised, fall in love with an “eight” and give him a makeover.

She tried to tell herself that maybe Brad’s nose was just a tad too big. Or his smile the tiniest bit crooked. But the truth was that every inch of his big, broad-shouldered, toned body tipped her personal hotness scale way past the “ten” side into the flushing, hot-flash, seeing-stars-and-fireworks-and-cartoon-explosions side. Her goose was so cooked . . .

Olivia bit down hard on her lip, hoping the pain would clear her senses. “Why are you here? I thought people in the restaurant business always worked evenings.”

His smile floored her. Damn that dimple anyway. “Not tonight.” His gaze drifted over her in a slow sweep. “Effie told me anyone without a significant other usually brings their mom. And I know you’re the kind of person who would rather drown than ask for a lifeline.”

“I’m perfectly capable . . .”

“It’s not about capability, Sweetness.” His mouth curved up in a lazy grin. “It’s about not having to do something alone. I thought you might like some company, but I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“Oh.” A parade of emotions skittered through her. Confusion. Wariness. Relief. Yes, it was a relief to have someone here with her amid all these happy pregnant couples. Even if he was the most irritating male in the world.

“So can I stay?” She hadn’t known him as a young boy, but his innocent expression made her visualize a wide-eyed little tyke with freckles and a cowlick, exuding sincerity with a side of mischief from every pore. A pox on that hunky, handsome face that could still make her stomach turn cartwheels.

She nodded, but stopped short of thanking him. He stirred her, touched her, and she didn’t trust that feeling at all. She pushed the doll toward Brad, happy to be rid of it. “Help yourself.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, there, easy with our baby.”

“It’s not
real
.” She rolled her eyes.

He pulled off the gnarled mess of twisted diaper and lifted it between them. “Besides, now that I’m here, I figured maybe you could use some guidance.”

Give me a break
. “I suppose you can do better.” She passed him a fresh diaper.

He plucked it from her hand, but his fingers lingered over hers. “I do love me a challenge. Especially an easy one.”

“You’re awfully cocky,” Olivia said. He was too close. His body heat radiated into her personal space and she smelled his cinnamon gum. But the assault to her senses was nothing compared to the way he looked at her—through her—clear past her neutral expression as if he saw every bit of the fear and self-doubt beneath. Instinctively, she pulled back.

“I’m skilled
and
cocky,” Brad answered.

Olivia made a face. “What an ego. I don’t remember it being so big.”

“Honey, it’s even bigger than it was before.”

She felt herself blush again, but she was not going to let him get away with that. “But can it get the job done?”

His gaze raked her up and down, making her whole body feel like an August heat wave. She suddenly wished she could throw open the long row of pull-out windows for some cool evening air. In the seconds she was distracted by her hormonal flash, he had the diaper wrapped, taped, and tucked, neat as an Indian bunting.

“There you go.” He shot her a wickedly pleased look.

“You cheated.”

“Did not. How could I have cheated?”

“I don’t know, but no one diapers anything that quickly.”

“They do if they babysit my brother’s kids all the time.”

She poked him in the arm again, but his biceps were so taut her finger practically bounced. “Aha, so you
did
cheat.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you, I have a lot more experience than I had in high school.”

“Who doesn’t?” she retorted.

“Ahem.”

They both looked up to see Dr. Bailey standing in front of them. “We’ve moved on to the next topic,” she whispered, not unkindly. “I’d suggest you two pay attention.”

“Now you’ve gone and gotten us in trouble,” Olivia said darkly.

“We’re adults. We can’t get in trouble for talking.”

“Shhh. I have to listen.”

“You always were teacher’s pet.”

She tossed him a glare to shut him up. The doctor showed PowerPoint slides of bathing a baby.

“Why are you taking notes?” Brad whispered, his breath tickling her cheek. He grazed her shoulder with his warm, muscular one. Who could concentrate with those fresh soap and hot-blooded-man-body-spray smells assaulting her nostrils?

“Because I’m trying to learn something. Unlike
you
.”

“Maybe I just know it all already.”

“No crib bumpers,” the doctor continued. “And always put the baby to sleep on her back because of SIDS risk.”

Brad tipped backwards in his chair and raised his hand. “Doc, I imagine they get tired of being in the same position all the time.”

“Well, it’s up to you parents or caregivers to give babies time on their tummies when they’re awake. If not, they can get plagiocephaly and have to wear a helmet.”

“Plag—e—o—what?” a father-to-be asked from the front row.

Brad interjected. “It’s when they develop flat spots on their heads.”

“Who’s teacher’s pet now?” Olivia grumbled. “Or are you just trying to get in her pants?”

Brad displayed an expression of mock shock. “How could you even think that of me? I’m offended.”

“Why do you live to irritate me?”

His green eyes twinkled. “Because it’s fun.”

“Take a look at the samples of formula in front of you,” Dr. Bailey continued. “One is a liquid concentrate, one is ready to use, and one is a powder.”

Olivia looked at the various-sized containers. She’d had no idea there were so many choices.

“Here in Mirror Lake, we have to be sure to use low-fluoride water. Can anyone tell us why?”

Olivia’s stomach turned a tumble. She’d been using water straight from the tap. Her hand began to shake as she took notes.

The doctor’s words ran together. Olivia’d totally missed that part about the fluoride, still in a panic about using tap water. Had she done something bad to Annabelle in some way she wasn’t even aware of? She didn’t even know the basics about caring for a child.

A slide flashed by about cutting fingernails. How on earth would she ever manage to hold Annabelle’s tiny fingers still? She shuddered again when she thought of the cute bumpers around Annabelle’s mattress. Those would have to go, too. What else didn’t she know?

A big hand covered her own. “You all right?” Brad asked. His eyes were warm with concern. Or fake concern, she couldn’t tell.

Olivia swallowed past the baseball clogging her throat. “I-I didn’t know to use special water. Or boil new bottles. We didn’t do that in the grocery store, we just ripped open the package and—”

Brad squeezed her hand. His touch was firm and gentle all at once. “She’ll be fine, Olivia. It’s just a precaution. And that was an emergency.”

It was all so complicated. Dangers lurked everywhere. She didn’t need an evening class, she needed a graduate seminar. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.

“Raising a child is a scary business,” Brad said. “Even for two parents who have a support system of family nearby,” Brad said. His voice was gentle but his message rankled.

I’m not good enough. I never will be.
The grim reality seeped into her bones like a damp chill. Maternal instincts apparently hadn’t made it into her genetic code.

Once she went back to New York, she was on her own, responsible for an infant she hadn’t read the instruction manual on. And the warranty would be expired. There was no going back.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Brad continued. “Maybe you need to think about what’s best for Annabelle.”

That startled her. When had she not thought of Annabelle? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“What I mean is you’re always so independent, so take-charge. Maybe in this instance that’s not the best thing.”

She frowned. Her stomach gave a nauseating churn. He was calling into question her ability to mother Annabelle. That wasn’t new. But what if he was right?

“I’m saying give it a try, see what happens, but you’ve got a safety net if it doesn’t work out.”

“I’m not getting what you’re saying.” Was he being his usual annoying self, or was he seeing some cold, hard truth she could not even admit to herself?

“Tom and Alex would never interfere with what you want. But they’d be there if you felt it wasn’t going to work out.”

“Have they . . . said something to you?”

“Of course not. But they love Annabelle, too, and I have a feeling they wouldn’t hesitate to take her if you felt you couldn’t.”

She wished she could say that her caring for Annabelle was what her sister intended, but in her heart, she didn’t believe that. Somehow, her name had gotten written in on the wills. As a whim, perhaps. In the space that said “next of kin,” her sister probably scratched it in and got Kevin to do the same, never imagining this nightmare would come to fruition.

He squeezed her hand again. “You’ll make the right decision. And as for the bottles, Annabelle will be fine. No reason to panic.”

Olivia drew in a deep breath. She had to get a grip. He was right. The baby was fine, no harm was done. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little . . . overwhelmed.”

“You’ll work it out.”

His sure and confident tone didn’t comfort her frayed nerves. As class ended, she packed up the diaper bag with the Mirror Lake Community Hospital logo on it that everyone received for free. Brad handed her the diapers and the formula.

“You know, it’s a little odd, having the tables turned like this,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were always the perfect one. Straight As, full scholarship to NYU. I was lucky to graduate.”

She stopped packing the bag. “You worked three jobs to support your family. And used to drink four cups of coffee every morning just to stay awake in class.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, as uncomfortable with praise as he’d been years ago. “There wasn’t much time back then for books—or leisure. But I’m making up for it now.”

Women were surely lined up clear to Hartford to date him. Olivia remembered a recent style magazine article featuring up-and-coming entrepreneurs. It had chronicled Brad’s lifestyle, the fact that he supported his hometown—and his state—but also traveled internationally to explore new menu ideas. There was a photo spread of him in Greece, his arm wrapped around a stunning woman who was probably a model. Yes, he took his leisure, all right.