Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(72)

All morning, I itched to get home and check on Julian. See Eva. Snuggle Skylar. My attention stayed more on the clock than under the hood of whatever car I was fixing. Then some rich douchebag in a fancy suit showed up with a flat tire. We weren't exactly a tire repair or replacement shop, but the only thing my boss saw was green flashing, so yeah, I was called in to fix the Bentley's tire. Not sure what a damn Bentley was doing in our neighborhood, but whatever.

Someone else must've thought he didn't belong either, because a knife-slash had given him the flat. It definitely wasn't an accidental blowout.

The prick owner stood over me the whole time, arms folded over his chest as he scrutinized every little thing I did and sneered at all my tattoos, but at least he didn't offer a critique. When I handed him the ticket to go in and pay, telling him he was all set up, he finally smiled, all his wrinkles puckering around a thin, white scar slashed high across his left cheekbone. But it wasn't a friendly smile. His eyes spelled out his true thoughts. They looked down on me and all my tattoos and piercings, telling me what a piece of shit they thought I was.

Rich people.

I'd love to see him try to make it in this neighborhood. Sometimes, to survive, you had to blend in and adapt, project an image of intimidation so sick motherf*ckers would leave you alone.

Besides, I liked my badass appearance, though I'm sure this look would never let me fit into the country club scene where Eva had been raised. Remembering she was in my apartment, surrounded by my low-class things, I dialed her up.

"Hey," I said as soon as she answered the phone, the melody of her voice making my pulse skyrocket.

"Hey!" She sounded upbeat and awake. Watching two kids all day didn't seem to have worn her out yet. "What's going on?"

"Just checking in. I was going to stop by on my lunch break, but we had a car come in at the last second." I stepped away from the Bentley as the rich suit strolled from the cashier's desk and pulled his keys from his pocket. His gaze was on me as he opened his door, so I sent him a respectful nod. "Have a good one."

His return smile was a little too knowing for my taste, so I kept watching him as he slid into his ride.

"We're doing great here," Eva told me as I stared. "Julian just had his lunch and went down for a nap, so Skylar got bored and nodded off too. I don't know how I coordinated getting them both to sleep at the same time, but I even impressed myself."

I smiled. "I'm not at all surprised; I knew you'd be that good. Sounds like you got it under control. I know he can be a handful at times." Tristy claimed he cried nonstop.

"Well, I haven't seen proof of it yet. This little man is a complete sweetheart. He hasn't cried once and boy, does he love to smile."

My face stretched as my own smile grew. "Yes, he does."

"Though I'm learning a big difference between the genders when it comes to diaper changing. That was a . . . wet learning experience."

My eyes went wide. "Oh, shit. Did he piss on you?"

"A little bit, yeah." Her laugh was full, letting me know she wasn't upset at all. "I hope you don't mind that I used your dryer."

My head filled with images of her sauntering around my apartment topless while her shirt dried.

Oh, hell. Instant wood at work. Not good.

"No," I croaked, my voice hoarse and jeans way too tight. "Not at all. I'm sorry he got you. I guess I should've warned you he might do that. After I open his diaper, I usually only lift it up just enough to let the air hit him and he can do his thing before I unwrap him completely."

"What a good tip. Thank you. I will definitely keep that in mind for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I echoed stupidly, while my heart raced faster.

"Well, yeah. I thought your normal sitter was going to be contagious for a good two weeks."

I went dizzy. Eva Mercer was going to be in my apartment, watching my kid every day . . . for two weeks? How was I going to survive that, always knowing she was there, caring for my child, walking through my rooms, sitting on my furniture, drying her pissed-on shirts in my dryer? I was itching enough to get off work now so I could rush home and just bask in her presence. But two weeks of this luxury? God, I could overdose on such a rush.

"Oh, hey. Quick question before you go."

Go? I'd been planning on dragging this phone conversation out as long as possible. "What's that?" I asked.

"He's four months old now, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what I thought. So I borrowed your laptop and looked up a few sites so there wasn't anything huge I was missing about caring for that age. And it said four months is an okay time to introduce them to a couple of solid foods. But I didn't see any in the cabinets, so—"

"Wow, I hadn't even thought of that yet. But yeah, I'll make sure to pick up some the next time I go grocery shopping. What do I get for him?"

"They said it's okay to wait a couple more months, but he seems to chew a lot, so I thought maybe . . . I know, I'm overstepping my bounds. Sorry, I—"

"No! That's . . . actually, I'm glad you brought it up because I have no clue what he really needs. I've pretty much been faking it for the past four months. Any advice you have is appreciated."