Mine To Keep (Love By Design 7)

“I can be pretty relentless, just so you know.”

My eyes rolled and I drolly responded, “I’d have never guessed.”

“So do you want me to go back to the store and ask for boxes?”

I paused, thinking what this would mean.

Evan leaned closer, pressing the baby between us as his huge hand cupped his head rubbing it gently. He forced me to look into his eyes, demanding an answer. “Remington Kennedy, are we good or what?”

“Fine.” I kicked my foot out in mock disapproval and Evan smiled widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling like he hoped for this outcome, which was weird if I thought too much about it.

“Good,” he said, standing up, hands on his hips, facing the one window I had looking outside like he was surveying his newly conquered territory.

Giving in was not supposed to feel this good.

Several hours later the move was exhausting, and I was ready to collapse and sleep for days or at least until my son demanded his next bottle. My legs cramped as I stood inside the bathroom, contemplating where to put away a few personal items. I stared at the box of pads and tampons, thinking how weird it would be to co-habitate with a man. Evan’s voice sounded in the hall, and I ducked down, tossing them under the sink behind a package of toilet paper. I vowed to God I’d make sure the roll was always full so Evan would never see my monthly period supplies. I knew he’d had girlfriends, but I was sure he never had one keep tampons in his hall closet before.

I peeked from the doorway, watching him hold Ethan against his chest. Tiny fists rested against his pectorals, and I imagined this was far more permanent than it could ever be. I frowned back in the mirror, forcing myself to snap out of it, pasting on a smile and grateful he took us in despite our gargantuan-sized baggage.

Evan spoke. “Hey, little man.” Ethan gurgled, resting his head on Evan’s shoulder as if it fit there. I’d missed seeing that in the hospital, and this was my very own version of mommy porn. Who needed a book with whips and spankings. I had my very own set of handcuffs right there, melting me.

“I hope you two like it here. I’ve never lived with anyone else before. Yeah, I guess you haven’t either, huh?” He paced the living room, patting his baby butt gently. My son quieted his whimpers as if Evan’s grumbly booming voice soothed him. Dear Lord, what I wouldn’t have given to record this moment.

“You know, we’re going to have to make sure your momma rests and eats more. Maybe you can help me cook ’cause she looks like a strong wind could blow her over.” He cooed at the baby.

Their one-sided conversation was adorable and melted my over emotional heart. I hoped I was doing the right thing and not messing things up between us, whatever us was. I’d tried calling Andy and David while Evan was out grabbing boxes. All I’d gotten were short texts saying that Evan was right but I could come back anytime I wanted. I’m not sure what transpired in that short time, but I pushed the unease away.

Evan kept up his conversation. “We’re definitely going to get you a hockey jersey, little man. I stopped playing sports in high school so no football in this house.” Evan’s obvious unspoken disdain for Ryder made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to broach this topic yet, at all, ever. I made some noise in the bathroom, shutting drawers before heading into the living room.

“He must be hungry. I’ll take him.” I held my arms out for my baby, and Evan

paused before handing him over. I shifted the baby in my arms, adjusting myself before I froze, remembering I wasn’t in my apartment alone. I was in Evan’s house and whipping out a breast to feed Ethan would be awkward.

“You must be hungry too.” He cleared his throat as we stood awkwardly staring at each other. My hands were occupied with the baby and his tapped his jean-clad thighs. My insides tightened because it wasn’t food on my mind. By the color of Evan’s defined cheekbones, I would hazard a guess he wasn’t thinking about food either.

“Sure,” I agreed because I had no idea what to do next. Should I sit on the sofa and nurse or go to my room? Did we have rules about this?

“Remi, make yourself at home,” he said but I couldn’t move, not until he stopped staring at me.

“I’ll try,” was all I could get out as the baby squirmed.

He groaned, stepping back and then heading toward the kitchen. “Why do I feel like this is going to take some getting used to?”

He was one hundred percent right.

“Because we have no idea what we’re getting into?”

22

Evan

Today’s shift had been long with no end in sight, and while it had been the day shift, there was still the drunk guy from the dance club near the shittiest hotel in town I had to pull out from under the stage and assist into the back of my squad car. My shoulder ached, but coming home to Remington this past month made it worth it. She had a way of making me smile for no reason and a sunny personality despite the shit cards she’d been dealt.

Lights inside told me she was home, and I was about to call out so I didn’t scare my new lovely roommate. Music in the kitchen played, and I caught the tail end of Sir Mix-a-lot’s, Baby Got Back. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was trying to seduce me with her killer dance moves and the wiggle of her juicy butt. My anaconda definitely wanted a piece of her, watching her shimmy and sashay through the kitchen. Ethan was in his bouncer seat, kicking his legs up, looking happy and amused that his mother was dancing and singing, even if it was off key.

The song changed to one of Britany Spears and so did the key, making me wince. Remi might get the neighborhood dogs howling at the back porch if they caught wind of her serenade. I cringed when she hit a particularly high note and decided to settle in and wait for her to notice me standing there. I crossed my arms over my chest, propping up the wall. I was impressed how into it she was, shaking her ass like nobody was watching, except for me right then. The music changed to some Tiffany song I barely recalled about being alone, and her moves changed to something from the eighties, the towel in her hand punctuating each move.

She shimmied, humming the next line. “Oh holy shit! Jesus Christmas, Evan Rooney, you scared the pee out of me!” Each word punctuated by the slap of the towel on a varied part of my body. All I could do was duck and laugh because it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it made me chuckle, seeing her lose her carefully crafted control she held onto with a death grip. I couldn’t help the smirk that crossed my face when she stopped finally, backing herself into a corner, chest heaving.