It’s time for the big guns. Or big gun, I guess. I walk into Winter’s bedroom, where I can see her illuminated form by the dim glow of her night-light.
The covers are a mess, the sheet wrapped around one of her legs as she snores softly, sprawled on her stomach. I clear my throat, hoping to wake her up. She doesn’t even move.
I go to the side of the bed and bend down.
“Winter?”
She yelps and jumps up to her knees on the bed. “Harry, what the hell?”
“Jesus, Winter, I’m not an axe murderer or anything. I just need your help with Avery.”
She lowers herself so she’s sitting on the bed, putting a palm to her chest. “I’m not used to seeing anyone in my bedroom, okay? You scared the hell out of me.”
“You never had guys stay the night?”
She glares at me. “That’s none of your business.” She tries to untangle the sheet from around her leg, but she’s sitting on it.
I smile at her attempt to look angry while fighting a losing battle with a bedsheet.
“Want some help?” I ask her.
“I’ve got it. What’s going on with Avery?”
She slides to the edge of the bed and uses both hands to free herself from the sheet. I can’t help noticing that much of one breast has escaped the side of her tank top. Then I feel guilty, so I look away.
“She’s been crying for over an hour.”
“Did you feed her?”
“Of course I fed her,” I snap.
I sigh and shake my head. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I didn’t mean to be rude. I fed her, changed her, rocked her, sang to her, tried the Binky, walked with her, turned on the shower—”
“I’ll take her.” Winter gets up and reaches up to fix the messy bun on her head.
My gaze wanders to the strip of her midriff that’s exposed, and I have a brief fantasy about putting my hands on her skin and sliding the shirt up over her head.
Then I hear Avery crying, which snaps me out of it. “I, uh…no, I wasn’t asking you to take her for me. Can you just help me get her back to sleep?”
“Yeah.”
Winter pads down the hall to my bedroom, and I watch her go, admiring what I can see of her ass in the pale light. She wears men’s boxers to bed sometimes, and I wonder if they used to belong to a man she dated.
If so, he was a really small dude.
I follow her into the bedroom, and she’s already scooped Avery into her arms when I get there.
“Shhh…oh, it’s okay, love,” she croons. “I’ve got you now.”
Swallowing hard, I just stand there, feeling both entranced and useless. Winter has a magic touch with my daughter. She’s got that maternal instinct thing in spades, and I find it so sexy.
When I have a shit day at work, what would it be like to pull Winter into my arms and have her say, “It’s okay, love,” in my ear?
Damned nice. It’d be really damned nice. Not that I want to be treated like a baby—by any stretch—but Winter can be a hard-ass or an absolute sweetheart, depending on who she’s dealing with.
I like that about her. A lot. She’s no doormat, but she’s got a huge heart.
“Go to sleep, Harry,” she says softly.
I blow out a breath. “I don’t need you to take over, it’s my night. If you could just help me—”
“I’m up now. I’ve got her. No need for us to both be up.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, already walking toward the bed.
Her lips turn up in a smile. “Yeah.”
I think I’m asleep before I even hit the mattress. The next thing I know, the song set for my morning alarm is starting to play on my phone. Instinct makes me grab it and immediately shut it off. I don’t want it waking Avery up.
Lying my head back on my pillow to give myself a minute to mentally wake up, I hear soft breathing next to me. I turn to see Avery flat on her back between me and Winter, her arms above her head in her favorite sleeping position. Her Binky is on the bed next to her.
Winter is on her side, curled around Avery. It amazes me the way the two of them just fit together in my mind. I can’t imagine Winter without Avery and I can’t imagine Avery without Winter.
I also can’t imagine me without either of them anymore. And that’s a problem, because Winter wants nothing to do with me romantically.
I’ve never been one to walk away from a challenge, though. My high school hockey coach told me I needed to give up my dreams of playing in college because I just wasn’t at that level. I busted my ass, practicing twice as hard and long as the other guys through the week and working alone on the weekends.