Christmas with Daddy. C.J. Carmichael
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Mandy’s cries grew louder. The dogs pulled in close to Bridget. The baby’s distress made them uneasy.
“Do you know what time it is?” Nick asked. “I forgot to put on my watch this morning.”
She shrugged. She hadn’t worn a watch, either. “Almost one o’clock,” she guessed. She and the dogs had left the house at eleven-thirty and the route through the woods usually took them about an hour and a half.
“One o’clock.” Nick seemed astounded. “I didn’t think we’d been out that long. Mandy missed her nap and her lunch.”
No wonder she was so upset. “Did you bring any food with you?”
“It didn’t occur to me. Maybe Jessica packed something in here…” Nick rummaged through the storage pouch on the back of the stroller but came up with nothing. Mandy was sobbing now, and for a guy who never seemed to lose his cool, Nick was looking pretty flustered.
“What should I do? I’ve got to get her home, but I can’t put her in the stroller when she’s crying like this.”
“I’ll push the stroller for you.” Bridget tied the dogs’ leads to the handle, then started along the path at a fast clip.
Nick fell in next to her. “Thanks a lot. I guess I should have been more prepared.” He cuddled Mandy closely. “Don’t worry, honey. Your dad’s an idiot, but he is going to feed you, eventually.”
As they made their way out of the park area onto the city streets, Bridget noticed they were attracting quite a bit of attention. A man and a woman with four dogs and a crying baby…yeah, she wasn’t too surprised people were gawking.
Nick seemed oblivious to the stares, though. He was almost panicking by the time they reached his town house. “Will you come inside?”
She didn’t have the heart to leave him to cope alone. “What about the dogs?”
“I have a fenced backyard. Will that do?”
“I’ll need to give them some water.”
“Not a problem.”
He dug into his pocket for the keys, and then, she was in a place she never thought she’d see the inside of—Nick Gray’s town house. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe sleek furniture, an opulent TV and sound system…a round bed with satin sheets?
But his furnishings were plain and sparse. He had just one reclining chair in his living room, along with the television. In the kitchen down the hall, a newspaper was spread over a tiny oak table. Two folding chairs sat around it.
Nick must have noticed her scrutinizing the place because he apologized. “Jessica took a lot of stuff when she moved out. I haven’t been in the mood to replace it.”
He paused, frowning. “Is something burning? Hell. I forgot to turn off the coffee machine.” Still carrying Mandy, whose crying had turned into pitiful hiccups, he crossed the room and hit the off button on the coffeemaker. Then he grabbed a big bowl from a cupboard and handed it to her.
“For the dogs.” He pointed to the patio door. “You can let them out there.”
“Thanks.” She unlocked the door then released the dogs from their leashes. They rushed outside, anxious to explore. Once she had filled the bowl with water and placed it on the patio for them, she went to check on Nick.
He was kneeling on the kitchen floor, holding Mandy in one hand and pulling stuff out of a pink diaper bag with the other.
He cursed softly. “Couldn’t she have prepared one bottle at least?” He found a can of powder. “Jessica mixes some of this with water. I have no idea about the ratio.”
“Instructions should be on the can. How about I read them while you get Mandy out of her snowsuit. She must be very warm.”
A guilty look crossed his face. “Good thinking.” He unzipped Mandy’s snowsuit and for a couple of peaceful moments the baby actually stopped crying. But as he stripped off the cute yellow snowsuit, he made a face. “Oh-oh.”
Bridget glanced up from the fine print on the can. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s soaking wet. She needs a bath and a new diaper. God, I am such an imbecile.”
And then, as if to signal her agreement, Mandy started howling again.
ONE HOUR LATER Mandy had been bathed, changed, fed and lulled to sleep, in that order. Bridget did most of the work, with Nick watching, feeling like he was on the verge of having a heart attack.
Now, seeing Mandy’s peaceful face, her body curled under the flannel covers, he could finally take a deep, long breath.
“Thank you, Bridget.”
She was on the other side of the crib, looking at him with an odd smile. “You’re welcome.”
“You made it all seem easy.”
“It’s not so difficult. You just need to stay calm.”
Calm. That was funny. “I’ve given that same advice to rookie cops in dangerous situations on the street. I can keep my head when a robbery is going down. But babies are different.”
“You’ll catch on,” Bridget said gently.
“You think?”
“You’ve definitely got potential. As long as you don’t panic, you’ll be able to handle Mandy just fine.”
He wished he had the same faith in himself that she did. “I’ll still need a sitter for when I’m at work.”
Bridget broke eye contact. “I should get going.”
“Oh, no. You’re not leaving until you agree to take on the job. You’ve just proved you’re the perfect person to take care of Mandy.”
The prospect of extra money hadn’t tempted her. What would motivate someone like her? “Please, Bridget? We’ve been neighbors for years and Mandy already likes you. I’d hate to have to leave her with a stranger.”
“Not fair, Nick.” She shook her head at him. “But I will do it. If you’re willing to make a few compromises.”
Years of negotiating with two older brothers had made him cautious. “Yeah?”
“We do this the ecofriendly way. That means organic, homemade baby food, no disposable bottle liners, and definitely no more disposable diapers.”
“You want me to use cloth diapers?”
She nodded.
“God, Bridget.” Cloth diapers would be stinky. And they’d have to be washed. “Okay. But you better be worth it.”
OH, I AM, Bridget wanted to say. I am definitely worth it.
But she wouldn’t be talking about babysitting. She’d be flirting. And where that urge had come from, she wasn’t sure. The situation was far from romantic. They were talking about baby food and diapers for heaven’s sake.
The problem was Nick. If only he had the good grace to look like a respectable father. But no, even in a domesticated scene like this one, he still exuded sex appeal.
Even as she was thinking about that, he stood up and stretched out his arms, inadvertently flexing all sorts of lovely muscles for her to admire.
She shouldn’t be looking. What she should be doing was leaving. “I’d better round up my dogs and get home.”
“I’ll call them in.” As soon as Nick slid open the patio door, all four of the snowy canines barreled inside. Bridget apologized, but Nick didn’t seem too worried about the floor getting wet.
As she clipped the dogs onto their leashes, Nick’s phone rang. After his first few responses, she was