“You don’t like it here?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t ... I don’t fit here anymore.”
That’s the best I’ve got.
“Fair enough.”
I stand, placing my empty beer bottle in the recycling bin. “Thanks for the beer, I’m going to have a bath and turn in for the night. Are you okay listening out for Star until Delilah gets home?”
He nods.
“Night, Hugh.”
“Night.”
I give him a smile and walk into my room. I close the door, glancing back at him one more time. He’s staring at me in a way that makes my body feel funny, a good feeling, a feeling of ... connection.
God.
I can’t afford to end up tangled in something like this.
Not after Rhett and Gabby.
Not after him.
No.
This one has to stay exactly how it is.
No matter what.
2
“Hey.”
Someone is holding my shoulders, shaking me.
My eyes flutter open and it takes me a moment to realize it’s Hugh. He is staring down at me, shirtless, hair a mess, hands firmly gripping my shoulders as he jerks my body trying to wake me up. “What?” I croak, shoving his hands off and sitting up. “What’s going on?”
“Star is crying.”
I blink, rubbing my eyes. “What?”
“She’s crying.”
Huh? Who’s crying?
Oh. Shit. Star.
“Where is Delilah?”
“She’s not home. I don’t know how to make a bottle.”
“Fuck me,” I mutter, climbing out of bed. “Are you serious? Can you not read? I’m sure you could figure it out.”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t even fuckin’ know how to change her, don’t get snippy.”
“Me?” I say, running my hands down my face. “You’re the one waking me up at two in the morning because you can’t figure out how to take care of your own child.”
He glares at me. “Can you just fuckin’ help me?”
I reach down, grabbing my robe as I shoot him a look so vile I hope it stays with him for a good long time. It’s safe to say I’m not good with being woken up in the middle of the night. I’m a nanny, yes, but I also get paid to do everything during the day. I don’t take night shift, I work with families who want to do that part themselves, and Delilah made it clear that night time was for her and Hugh. So why he’s in here, looking at me like a helpless puppy, is beyond me.
I stomp out of my room and into the house, walking into the kitchen and throwing a pointed finger at the perfect row of sterilized bottles on the counter. “See those,” I mutter, “all ready to put formula in and take to your daughter.”
“Don’t know how much,” he grunts.
“Can you read, Hugh?”
His look should scare me; it doesn’t.
I can hear Star crying, her little wails softening my angry mood. Poor bubba, it isn’t her fault her parents don’t know how to get their shit together. I scoop enough formula out for her bottle, and then shake it up, popping it in the bottle warmer. “While I’m doing this, you could go and take her from her crib and change her.”
“What for?”
I growl. “You can’t be serious? You don’t know how to change her?”
“We hired a fuckin’ nanny for a reason, I told you, I didn’t even fuckin’ want kids and you expect me to just magically know how to take care of one? I haven’t had to change her, Maggie.”
Damn.
Okay, fine.
“Bring the bottle up when it’s finished, I’ll go,” I exhale, walking up the stairs to Star’s bedroom.
I open the door and walk in, flicking on the dull lamp.
“Oh, baby girl, it’s okay,” I say, reaching in and taking her into my arms. I kiss her warm cheeks and bounce her a little as she wails for her bottle.
She’s not going to handle being changed right now, she’s too upset.
Where the hell is Delilah?
I snuggle her close, soothing her as I wait for Hugh. He arrives a moment later with the bottle and hands it to me.
“No,” I say. “You need to do this. What if I’m not around? Delilah might not have shown you, but I’m going to. Sit down.”
He stares at me, a little horrified, but takes a seat. I walk over, placing the wailing Star in his arms. He looks terrified as he looks up at me, his eyes wide. “She’s a wreck.”
“She’s hungry. Hold her close, check the bottle isn’t too hot, and give it to her.”
“How do I know if it’s too hot?”
I turn his wrist over and shake the bottle, splattering milk on it. He jerks his arm away. “What the hell?”
“That’s how you tell. Did it burn?”
“No,” he mutters.
“Then it’s fine. Give it to her.”
“She’s wiggling too much.”
“For crying out loud, you’re a biker. Toughen up and give her the damn bottle.”
He mutters something and then pops the bottle into Star’s mouth. She immediately stops crying and starts frantically sucking. Hugh relaxes his hold on her just a bit, and then his eyes roam her face as her little chubby hand reaches out and hooks onto his finger. My heart aches, because damn, she has the most powerful and protective dad of them all and he doesn’t even know yet just how much he’s going to come to mean to her.
I swallow the lump in my throat and watch as he looks up at me. Hugh really is the most incredible looking man, so perfectly put together and yet so strong and masculine. He’s gorgeous. Delilah would be lucky to make this work and have him forever. Her daughter will always be protected and that’s something not all of us have.
When Star finishes her bottle and has calmed down, her eyes becoming sleepy, I take it from Hugh and instruct him to carefully put her on the changing table. He does so and I go over how to change her without stirring her too much. His big hands fumble as he tries to do it but, eventually, he gets there. We then re-wrap Star and place her in the crib, where she falls back into her deep sleep.
I turn to Hugh just as the door opens and Delilah comes stumbling in. She’s drunk, if you couldn’t tell by the sway as she stands, you’d know by the smell that fills the room. Alcohol. Yuck. She looks at the two of us, and then slurs, “What are you two doing?”
“We are feeding your daughter because you weren’t home,” I tell her, my voice snippy as I try to encourage them out of the room so she doesn’t wake Star.
“I want to see her,” Delilah protests as we both walk her out.
“She’s asleep,” Hugh growls. “No fuckin’ way.”
He closes the door behind him and Delilah pouts, pressing her back against the wall. Even then, she sways. “Why are you so mean to me? Don’t you remember how much fun we had that night, Hugh? We could have it again if you’d just let me in.”
“You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
Well, this is uncomfortable.
Delilah pushes off the wall and throws her arms around Hugh’s neck, trying to kiss him in a way that’s so awkward to watch I am forced to look away. It’s making me cringe.