I needed to get the hell out of there before I got any more comfortable. If I was really thinking about how inviting a strange man’s hotel bed looked, I needed to get my ass home. I didn’t have any time for that kind of crap in my life, especially not the kind that came with the baggage Trevor would be carrying.
“Henrietta,” I sang softly, ignoring the urge to run. “Henrietta, come to Mama, it’s time to get dressed.”
I sang the little ditty to a tune I’d made up when she was just a baby. She’d always loved when I sang to her softly, but back then I hadn’t known a single children’s song. In the middle of those early nights when nothing seemed to calm her down and I was three levels past exhaustion, I’d never been able to remember any songs at all.
“Henwyetta,” she sang back, as she toddled toward me.
I stripped off her swimsuit and swim diaper as I continued to sing, occasionally glancing at the bathroom door to make sure Trevor was still closed inside. “Henrietta, you’re all wet, what in the world have you been doing? Henrietta, let’s get you dressed, so you can be nice and cozy.”
She hummed along as I snapped the sides of her diaper and pulled a sundress over her head. I let her roam the room again as I quickly got dressed in a sundress of my own and threw my hair into a bun at the top of my head. I’d deal with the tangled mess later when I had some conditioner and could actually brush through it.
“Want to go knock on the door?” I asked, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed. I was beginning to get uncomfortable, and kind of wished that we could just leave without saying our good-byes. “Go see if Trevor’s done?”
I smiled as she ran across the room and started knocking—and then didn’t stop. She hadn’t realized yet that a few knocks would do, so she just knocked and knocked and knocked until the door opened slightly.
“Is this my signal?” Trevor asked, not even peeking through the door.
“Yeah.”
The door opened wider, and he stood there in a pair of shorts and a white T-shirt, grinning. “I wasn’t sure if it was a false alarm or not,” he said, glancing down at Etta.
“I let her knock,” I replied dumbly. I was pretty sure I was staring, but damn. That shirt did all sorts of things for his shoulders and chest. I’d just been looking at him shirtless for hours, but that white T-shirt was somehow pushing all of my buttons at once.
“I see that,” he said, crouching down in front of Etta. “Good job, peanut.”
“Job, ’Eanut,” Etta copied, bouncing a little up and down.
“Were you singing?” he asked, glancing up at me.
An embarrassed smile pulled at my lips, but I tried really hard to play it cool. “You heard that, huh?”
“Just the tone,” he replied.
“Wed pannies,” Etta interrupted, leaning sideways until he couldn’t see anything but her. “Wed pannies.” Then she lifted up her dress to show Trevor her diaper, making me snort with laughter.
“Oh God,” I rasped, covering my face with my hand. “I’m in so much trouble with her.”
“Cool red panties,” Trevor replied to Etta, his smile growing. “You like the color red?”
“Yes.” She nodded resolutely, then got bored with the conversation and turned away to play with the mini fridge again.
“Is that a cloth diaper?” Trevor asked, rising to his feet.
“Yep. We’ve used them since she was little.” I smiled a little, but I couldn’t interpret the look on his face. I wanted to get out of there, but I had no idea how to extricate myself without looking like a jerk. Women in movies always had some easy-breezy way of saying that they needed to leave, but it didn’t happen like that in real life. I’d never found a non-awkward way to tell someone that I had to go. Usually it just came across as rude.
“If you’re using cloth diapers because you need money and don’t want to tap into that insurance payout,” he said slowly, stopping my thoughts short. His eyes were nothing but kind. “I can—”
“Lord,” I said, cutting him off. “You’re too nice. Seriously, how the shell are you so nice?” Now I felt even worse for wanting to bail. Was this guy for real?
“Shell,” he mumbled, shaking his head at my tweaked swear word. “Seriously, Morgan.”
“Oh, I know you’re serious,” I said, my lips curving up at the sides. “But we’re totally fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I replied. “We do okay.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought—” He didn’t finish his sentence as he gestured vaguely toward Etta in her cloth diaper.
“Cloth diapers are actually pretty expensive,” I informed him. “At least at first. She’s had those same ones for over a year, so the cost is low now, but when I was building her stash, it got pretty steep.”