Griff’s eyes lit up, and he made eye contact for a brief moment with his mom before turning to me. “Nico, these are amazing. How did you do this? They have paint that goes on frosting?”
I told him about what I’d learned from Rox and about some of the Internet research I’d done.
“It’s really fun. Like tattooing but with brush strokes. You’d love it. You can come try it with me one day while you’re here if you want. I have to come in tomorrow to do a big cake for a party, actually.”
“I can watch the baby,” Rebecca offered with a wink. As if it was a hardship.
I nodded at her. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks.”
After we left the shop and wandered through the picturesque town center, I noticed curious looks from several people and wondered just how mouthy that damned postal worker had been.
It wasn’t until we were coming out of the bookstore that I got my first clue.
Officer Curt Billingham stood by a vehicle with Oklahoma plates, writing what I assumed was a parking ticket for a tourist. As soon as he saw me, his mouth widened in a feral grin.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite stepbrother,” Curt drawled.
I squeezed my eyes closed for a second to remind myself not to lose my cool in front of the entire town again. It was a gorgeous October day, and plenty of people were out milling around the square within earshot of us.
I tried ignoring him. After turning Griff, Rebecca, and the stroller in the opposite direction, I heard him call out again. Griff gave me a questioning look, but I ignored it.
“Nicolas Salerno,” Curt called out. “Someone told me you’ve been holding that baby illegally. Apparently, Dr. Wilde is the custodial parent, not you. Is that correct?”
I felt all the blood drain from my face, and my knees felt like they were going to buckle at the realization Curt Billingham could turn a misunderstanding into an actual legal situation.
“You can talk to Honovi Baptiste about it, Curt. Or Dr. Wilde himself,” I called back to him, trying desperately not to let my fear show. What if he challenged me right there for the baby? Did he have a right to do that?
“Just hang on a minute, Nico,” he said. His voice dripped with condescension and smugness.
I closed my eyes again before turning around. “What?”
“I think we need to call West down here for a little chat, don’t you?” Curt asked. “I wouldn’t want you to be accused of kidnapping.”
Was he for real? How could there be someone so ugly and mean who used a newborn baby for his cruel games?
Luckily, I heard the shuffle of footsteps behind me and the warm familiar voice of Doc Wilde.
“Well, hey there, Curtis,” Doc said in a friendly greeting. “Nico, sorry it took me so long to check out. Mary was holding some books in the back for me. Think West will be upset if we’re a few minutes late?”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I hoped like hell Curt couldn’t tell.
“If he is, I’m blaming it on you,” I joked back lamely.
“Sorry to race off, Curtis, but West only has a quick break before he has to get back to his patients. We’re watching the baby for him today while he’s at work. Gotta run.”
Before Curt could argue, Doc grabbed my elbow and walked with me down the street and around a corner. I noticed West’s Victorian home and office up ahead and pulled to a stop.
“We’re not actually going to the practice, are we?” I asked.
“God, no. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near West right now after the shit storm he’s probably having to deal with at work. Every patient has likely heard the news by now, and they’re probably all trying to get the scoop out of him. I just overheard that bullshit Billingham was spewing and wanted to save you. What’s that man’s problem anyway?”
Griff and Rebecca walked around from where they’d been trailing behind us. “Good question. Nico, who was that, and why did he call himself your stepbrother?”
I explained everything on our way back to the house. It wasn’t until several hours later that I realized Pippa’s runny nose had turned into something serious.
Serious enough to need a doctor.
Chapter 28
West
After having a beer with Hudson, I wandered over to lie on the couch, exhausted from the shift at the hospital followed by the crazy day at the office and the news about the birth certificate. Hudson let me doze off for an hour on the sofa before waking me and insisting on going to Grandpa and Doc’s again for dinner.
“Fine.” I huffed, sitting up and running my hands through my hair. “But I hope you brought your tennis shoes because I need to work out some of this stress on the court.”