Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(29)

“Oh god.” She slumped dramatically in her seat. “You’re not actually embarrassed by seeing a woman breast-feeding, are you?”

Even Pat snickered.

“I am not.”

Jean fussed with her top, covering up a bit more.

“Shit. Don’t do that,” I said. “I mean … I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“Breasts are for feeding babies.” She frowned at the bed, not meeting my eyes. “You do realize that that’s their primary purpose in life, Eric?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

“I’m not trying to put on a show for you here or anything.”

“I did not think that for a minute.” I clasped my hands together because begging occasionally could be quite manly. Or just necessary. “I’m an animal. Please forgive me.”

“Idiot,” mumbled Nell.

But the hard line of Jean’s mouth had softened. “Go home and get some rest.”

“Yeah,” I said, slowly rising out of the chair. “Will do.”

“Thank you for everything,” she said, gazing so damn sweetly at me. Obviously tired and in pain, she was still so damn pretty propped up on the hospital bed with her baby in her arms. The most perfect thing I’d ever seen.

And my heart hurt. It felt swollen and sore like it was about to explode. Maybe I was experiencing cardiac arrest or something. If so, totally in the right place.

“Eric, are you sure you’re okay to drive?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” I rubbed at my chest, picking up my coat. “I’ll ah … see you later.”

Pat gave me a chin tip. Nell said nothing.

“I’ll visit,” I told Jean, delaying. Because for some reason, walking out the door seemed wrong. Like seriously the worst idea I’d ever had. Which made no sense considering some of the dumb shit I’d pulled over the years. Take the time I got pulled over for driving dangerously. Last time I let a girl go down on me while a car was in motion ever.

“I’d like that.” She smiled.

“Sure.”

Everyone just looked at me, waiting.

“Right,” I said, nodding to myself. “Later.”

I forced myself to march out of there. Out of her room and then out of the hospital. Every step taking me farther away from all the weird feelings Jean and the baby seemed to inspire. Jesus, it was no big deal. We’d just been through some shit together, that was all. Perfectly normal to feel a bond and get a bit emotional. But now it was time to go back to the real world. Back to my life. Hell, I was due back at work in eight hours.

Outside, I took a deep breath, the bitterly cold air like a slap to the face. Sure, I’d visit her. Absolutely. We were friends, after all.

And I meant it … at the time.





CHAPTER EIGHT

“Wow.” I nodded, polishing a glass. “It was intense.”

“Sounds it.” Joe’s eyes were wide. “Alex and I have talked about having kids someday, but the thought of her going through that. Of being in so much pain.” He shook his head.

“The baby was real cute though … after they cleaned her off and everything.”

My brother laughed.

“It’s true,” I said. “At first, she just looked like a really angry tiny red monster. Like something out of a B-grade horror film. You know those ones out of the eighties with the bad animation?”

“Maybe don’t repeat that in front of anyone else, okay?”

“I won’t.” I scowled. Jesus. “And it was only at first. Her pint-size arms were flailing and she was screaming her head off. Once they got her cleaned up and she calmed down, she was fine.”

“I’m sure little Ada appreciates your tick of approval.” He smiled. “Did it help put you off sex?”

“I don’t know about that. Definitely gave me a healthy respect for women, though.”

“Mm.”

It was near closing time, everything winding down. The Dive Bar had had a busy night. I’d slept all day, before starting my shift in the evening. Vaughan had offered to cover for me, but I knew he and Lydia had plans. Nell was back at work in the kitchen, though she’d spent half the night showing people pictures of Ada. I didn’t bother looking. Seeing as the baby only had three settings, asleep, confused, and enraged, and I’d seen them all.

The last of the customers headed out into the night and Rosie locked the door. At last. I took the opportunity to pour myself and Joe a drink.

“Top shelf?” he asked. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’re wetting the baby’s head, of course.”

“Of course.”

I’d no sooner rolled the first sip of whisky over my tongue than Pat knocked on the door. Taka let him in. First he headed over to say hey to Nell, then leaned against the end of the service counter, out of the way.

“Pat,” I called out, setting a third glass on the bar and pouring a couple of fingers. “Come join us.”

Joe shot me a look. Surprise or caution or what, I don’t know.

“We’re wetting the baby’s head,” I informed Pat once he’d taken a seat at the bar. “It’s tradition.”

“It’s a vague excuse to drink,” said Joe with a laugh.