Five First Dates (Sassy in the City 2)

Not that Steve had known the full extent of my crush. He’d thought I just wanted to bone his sister. Which I had. Still did. He hadn’t understood that at sixteen I’d been convinced if I just hung on and grew up a little, Savannah would be my future.

Now here she was in front of me.

Everything had changed. And yet, at the same time, nothing.

I still wanted her.

“Don’t fuss over me, Savannah. You’re the one with a baby. Point me to the washer and I’ll throw the shirt in myself.” I glanced around her apartment, curious to see how she lived. The place was small, which was no surprise for Brooklyn. I was just impressed she was able to support herself at all in New York.

The apartment was on the third floor of a townhouse-style building. The exterior had been a hodge-podge of different architectural styles and alleged improvements over the years, giving it a confused appearance. The interior had been left alone, the old thick woodwork intact, and the brick fireplace centered on the living room wall. Savannah’s style was feminine, heavy on the pink with lots of throw pillows.

“It’s no trouble,” she said, not glancing back at me.

I followed her into the kitchen. It wasn’t an open-concept apartment. The kitchen was a little galley hallway, cramped and narrow, but it did have a stackable washer and dryer at the end by the window. That would be a definite plus with a kid. When I was a kid and my mother had been working two, sometimes three jobs, I hated having to lug our dirty clothes to the laundromat on her day off.

“Let me hold the little guy at least.” I moved in really close to Savannah because there was nowhere else to go in the small alley of a room. Her son was propped on her hip, his small fist bunched around the fabric of her shirt, causing the neck to pull down. The swell of Savannah’s breast rose in a way that was hard to ignore, but I focused on the baby. He was a cute kid. Big blue eyes and full cheeks. He was watching me with a general suspicion.

I made faces at him and was rewarded with a brief smile. “He likes me.”

Savannah turned and jumped a little. “Oh, wow, you’re right on top of me.”

I wished.

“Come here, Sullivan.” I held my hands out.

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” Savannah said in protest.

“So?” I was entertained, I’m not going to lie. Savannah was unnerved by me being shirtless and I loved everything about that. “We need to get to know each other. Kids this age have separation anxiety when their mom leaves.”

“I don’t even know why I said that,” she admitted, bending over with Sullivan and tossing my shirt in the washer. “Can you tell I pretty much haven’t sleep in two weeks? I thought we’d reached a good spot. Sully was sleeping six hours straight but now he’s been getting up constantly. I don’t have a clue why.” She stood back up and blew out a heavy breath. “Here.”

She handed me the baby. Having spent my teen years surrounded by babies after my mother married my stepfather and had my four siblings back-to-back I was comfortable with her son. I held him up, mugged faces at him, and settled him against my chest. He didn’t cry. He didn’t necessarily look like he trusted me, but he didn’t protest either. I figured that was a good start.

“Is he teething?” I asked. He was a little young for hard-core teething but that would explain the sleepless nights.

“What?” Savannah stared at me blankly.

“Teething,” I repeated. Savannah looked exhausted and confused. “Listen, why don’t you lie down and take a power nap?” I was pretty sure she’d started the washing machine without adding soap and now she was leaning on the wall like she needed the support to stay vertical.

“No, I’m fine,” she protested. “You just got here. I want to help you settle in and we have a lot to talk about with the schedule, and how to take care of Sully. I want to hear about the tattoo shop.”

“We can’t do any of that if you’re dead on your feet. Come here.” I took Savannah’s hand and drew her out of the kitchen.

She looked down at my hand like she couldn’t process what was going on. “Where are we going?”

“To bed.” It wasn’t hard to find her bedroom. It was three feet down the hallway from the living room. It had one small window, a full bed, and Sullivan’s crib. It looked like pre-baby Savannah had been org

anized with sorters, shelves, a shoe rack. But now it was cluttered with all the needs of a kid. Diapers, a monitor, stacks of clean clothes, and three pacifiers on the dresser.

“I shouldn’t…” Savannah protested, even as she looked at her mattress with naked longing.

If only she’d look at me that way. Damn. She wanted that bed, bad.

“Just get in bed.” I put my hand on the small of her back and urged her forward.

“He just ate,” she said, glancing back at me. “He shouldn’t be hungry for a couple of hours. Wake me up after twenty minutes, okay? Not a minute longer.”

“Sure. Of course. Trust me, we’ll be fine.” I eased back out of the room, pulling the door closed after me. “It’s you and me, kid,” I said to Sullivan.