Joe barked out a laugh and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Do it quick. I want to see you married before I go.”
“Pops, this custody hearing.”
“Will go away when you walk down the aisle.”
“Did you buy the judge?”
He clamped his hand on my shoulder. “Smart men do what they can to keep their wives happy. You’ll understand soon enough.”
Not trusting my voice, I nodded. It bothered me to see my dad so damned frail. In the couple of weeks since Christmas, he’d dropped a considerable amount of weight, his complexion had paled, and his cough had worsened. The demand that I marry Maggie could turn out to be my father’s dying wish.
How can I say no? Better yet, how can I convince her to say yes?
4
Maggie
With each tick of the clock, my heart raced faster. Still in sweats and a ponytail, I had thirty minutes before the babysitter arrived—a half-hour to make myself presentable for my date. It was early in the relationship, but we seemed to have things in common. Plus, unlike the others I’d gone out with, he didn’t smell like sour milk or use a calculator to split the check or kiss like a cow.
Admittedly, my standards were low.
The dog went ballistic in the other room. Judging by the tone of her barks, someone or something had stepped into the yard.
“Aunt Maggie, someone’s here,” Chloe called from the living room. At nine years old, she was allowed to answer the door, but only if I was home and only after she’d run through her safety procedures. “Who is it?”
I hurried to the front room and wrangled the dog.
“It’s Uncle Gabe.”
My lungs convulsed, sending all my oxygen out of my mouth. The absolute last person I expected to see stood on my front porch—the kids’ uncle, my brother-in-law’s brother, otherwise known as my ex-boyfriend.
This could not happen. Not now, not ever. Sure, I planned to write a column about him, but I’d decided to do it without ever setting foot in the same room with the man. I reminded myself of the reasons I hated him, but none of that seemed to matter to my heart.
Chloe barreled on before I’d decided what to do. Her eyes widened, along with her smile. “What’s the password?”
“Snicklefritz,” Gabe said through the door.
“Wrong!” The girl chewed her lip, likely to keep from laughing.
“Is Maggie home? It’s important.” His voice lost its humor.
I eased into the foyer and looked through the peephole. Although I had no idea what he wanted, I knew two things…one, I didn’t have time for this, and two, it couldn’t be good. “We’re a little busy, Gabe.”
My niece clamped her hands over her mouth and giggled.
“Come on, Mags. I need to talk to you.”
I drew a deep breath and squared my shoulders. Before I’d gathered the courage to turn the knob, Chloe threw the door open. The little girl leaped into his arms and hugged his neck so tight it looked painful, though Gabe didn’t seem to mind.
“Hey, munchkin.”
“I’ve missed you.” Chloe pulled back, grinning.
“Miss you, too.” He kissed her cheek before setting her down.
Even Cocoa seemed happy to see him. She sniffed his calves and the baby in the carrier beside him before sitting at attention.
I did a double take at the infant. My brain struggled to make sense of the situation. Gabe. On my doorstep with a newborn who looked like him.
“Hi, Maggie.” Gabe ran his hand over the back of his neck, with a grin that still made my traitorous stomach do a somersault.
I had to hand it to him. He hadn’t changed a bit in the four years since he’d dumped me. Long, dark hair made for caressing, tanned skin made for licking, and those eyes, God, don’t get me started on those piercing green eyes. Unfortunately for Gabe, I was immune to his charms.
He reached down for the carrier. “It’s been a long time. How have you—”
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we come in?” His voice might have come out strong, but his slumped shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him.
Against my better judgment, I held the door open. “Sorry, surprised to see you. Is that your daughter?”
He set the carrier beside the couch. “Yeah, she’s mine. Her name’s Ella.”
Chloe settled beside the baby. “Oh, Ella. Like Cinderella. She’s so cute.”
“Her real name’s Gabriella.” Gabe bent and scratched Cocoa behind the ears.
Once again, my body revolted against me. The idea that he’d had a baby with someone who’d loved him enough to name their child after him ripped me in two. Then again, this was Gabe, the man who’d taken a sledgehammer to my heart four years ago. Gabriel Anthony Marchionni, the oldest surviving Marchionni brother and biggest ladies’ man in New Orleans.
He flashed Chloe a smile that most would find sweet, but I didn’t trust it. “You got so big. How old are you now, twenty-six? Are you married?”
“I saw you at Christmas. You know I’m nine.” She stood and set her hands on her hips. “Aunt Maggie, can I play Xbox?”
“Sure, but let your little brother play, too.”
“Come on, Cocoa.” Chloe rolled her eyes and ran toward the playroom. Not even a baby could compete with video games.
The dog sniffed Gabe one last time and followed her pint-sized master.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but clamped it shut and took a step closer to me. Too close, as if he still had a right to invade my personal space.
I eased back. It’s not that I feared Gabe, but I knew better than to get within sniffing distance. I’d never forgotten his scent—sandalwood and cedar and sin.
He frowned and glanced around the room. Children’s toys, shoes, stacks of mail cluttered the room. A half-dead Christmas tree sat in the corner surrounded by a halo of dry needles.
The longer he looked, the more my cheeks heated until my embarrassment dissolved into anger. What gave him the right to judge my housekeeping skills? Sure, I wasn’t perfect, but I’d damned sure made lemonade out of a barrel of rotten lemons.
He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I…uh…”
“Ryan had an ear infection. We haven’t gotten much sleep this week.” My words had come out far more defensive than I’d intended.
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, the antibiotics finally kicked in.” I cleared piles of folded laundry from the couch and motioned for him to sit.
“What’s the story behind the tree?”
“Chloe asked if we could keep it a while longer. This is their first Christmas without their parents. How could I say no?”
“You couldn’t…I guess.” Gabe stared at me the same way he had the living room—assessing the mess.
In bleach-stained sweats and an oversized T-shirt, I looked like I’d rolled out of bed—at dinnertime. I ran a hand over my head to smooth the loose strands back into my ponytail. “I was about to get in the shower.”
“Need someone to wash your back?” He flashed me a crooked smile.
An unwelcome memory of our previous bath time activities danced through my mind. Four years. It’s been four years, and he acts like we’re still a couple. “I’m seeing someone. We have a date. I have a date tonight, with my boyfriend.”
“A date?” He tilted his head.
“Yes, Gabe. That’s what normal people do, go on dates.” All right, it was the third time I’d gone out with this guy, but we’d talked for hours on the phone, often late at night. That had to count for something… Nevertheless, Gabe didn’t need to know any of that. I sat on the edge of the love seat, though every fiber of my being screamed to get him out the door.
“Right.” Gabe stared for a moment, sighed, and looked at his hands. “Can Ella and I stay here for a couple weeks?”
“Here? Why? I mean your place is fifteen minutes away.” My mouth went dry. Was he serious? No way could Gabe-freaking-Marchion
ni live in the same house as me and the kids. He was my ex, and much to my horror, my body liked the idea of having him under my roof—a lot.
He met my gaze. “I’d like to spend some time—”
“With the kids? Really? It’s been a year since their parents died, and none of their so-called uncles have bothered to visit them.” I had no idea why I blasted him, but I refused to take it back.
“I was grieving, too. And I’ve seen them at my folks…”
“We were all grieving.”
Gabe sighed. “You’re right. I should have been there for them after the accident.”
“Why come here? Why not go to your parents?”
“My father’s sick.”
The sadness in his voice made me second guess myself. “I’m sorry. I heard that he’s ill, and he didn’t look good the last time I dropped the kids off.”
He sat on the couch, rested his elbows on his knees, and bowed his head. “I’ll be taking over the business soon.”
The business? What about his bar? He loves that place. I clasped my hands to keep from fidgeting, or worse, touching him. “Where’s Ella’s mother?”
“Not in the picture. It’s a long story.”
“I have a few minutes.” I told myself I asked because I needed information for the article. My curiosity had nothing to do with jealousy. Too bad I didn’t believe my own lies.
“I met her at a hospitality event in town. Went out a couple of times, nothing serious. She started acting strange, and I ended things. Then a couple of weeks ago she showed up demanding I take a paternity test.” He laughed, a hollow sound that had nothing to do with amusement. “I thought no way it’s mine. This afternoon, she handed me the test results, a diaper bag, and the baby.”
I held up my hand and took a minute to process what he’d said. “She left the baby with you?”
“Said she didn’t want to be a mother and left.” His expression reminded me of Cocoa begging to come inside.
Nope. No sad faces. No belly rubs. No feeding strays. I turned my head. Looking into his green eyes felt like looking into the face of a cobra—lulling, mesmerizing, deadly. I didn’t know if I wanted to slug him or cry. I went with the safer choice, anger. “And the first thing you do is come here?”
“I figured since you are so good with the kids, you—”
I stood and backed away from him and the infant. “No. No way. I’m not taking responsibility for another kid. Rebecca’s three are enough. Jesus, Gabe. What do you think this is? The Baby Humane Society?”
“It’s not like that.” He grinned. “I’m planning to stay here, too.”
Part of me wanted to grab him by the ear and throw him out. I refused to entertain what the other part of me wanted with kids present.
Gabe sighed and pushed to his feet. “Look. You need help with the bills and to get my folks off your back. I need help with Ella. It’s a win-win.”
A win-win my ass. It’d taken me almost two years to get over him. I’d be damned if I’d put myself through that again. “I can’t do this with you.”
5
Gabe
My God, how did I let this woman go? They say contrasts are sexy, and I couldn’t agree more. Memories of us flooded my mind. My tan hands on her pale skin, her blonde curls and my dark hair spread out on a pillow, her soft curves against my hard… Sucking in a breath, I forced myself to make a U-turn on Memory Lane and focus on the woman in front of me.
Beauty, brains, and one hell of a temper, she wore her emotions like the sky wore clouds. One look, and I knew Hurricane Maggie was about to make landfall.
I rested my hands on her shoulders. “Mags, please. I’m sorry for the way things ended between us, but I have no clue how to take care of a baby, and my place in the Quarter isn’t exactly child proof.”
“Get a nanny. You can afford it.”
“It’ll take time to find someone. Give me two weeks. Enough to get me started.” And long enough to convince you how right we are for one another.
“Who’s running the bar while you’re here?”
“My cousin Jessie until I hire a manager.”
As if on cue, Ella squirmed and made unhappy noises.
Maggie raised a brow and nodded to the baby.
“Please.” I folded my hands and dropped to one knee. Cheesy, I know, but desperate times called for cheddar. “I’m in deep here. I can’t even figure out how to get her out of the car seat.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You have four younger brothers. How’s it possible you’re so clueless with children?”
“Not children, just babies.” I hated feeling so damned helpless.
“Two weeks, no more.”
“Thank you.” I moved in for a hug.
Maggie blocked me by squatting and unfastening the buckles and straps holding Ella in the seat. She brought the baby to her shoulder. “I have a boyfriend, so don’t even think about getting physical. I’m not your nanny, maid, chef, or friend. Do I make myself clear?”
“Did I hurt you that bad?” As usual my mouth got ahead of my brain.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Ugh, she’s wet.” Maggie handed Ella to me.
I’d used port-a-potties that smelled better than the kid. Her diaper weighed more than she did and had leaked through her clothes.
“Change her in the bedroom. I need to cancel the sitter and my date. I can’t leave you alone with four kids.” She spun and walked toward the kitchen.
I adjusted Ella to prevent the mess from seeping into my shirt. “That’s crazy. Go out. I’ll watch them.”
“Isn’t learning to take care of a child the reason you’re here? I’m canceling the date.” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “I want to toss you out on your perfectly sculpted backside, but I can’t do that to Ella. She didn’t ask her mother to abandon her with a class-A asshole.”
I sucked in a breath and took a step back. I’d handled our breakup like a coward. She had every right to her anger, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow.
Rather than continuing the argument, I winked. “Nice to know you still think I have a nice ass.”
She glared.
Zach, my oldest nephew, came down the hall and did a double take. “Uncle Gabe? What are you doing here?”
I clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to stay here for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s great.” The teenager motioned to Ella. “Whose baby?”
“She’s mine.”
“Holy sh—” He gave Maggie a sheepish grin. “I mean, holy cow, you have a kid?”
“I could use some help tonight.” I nodded toward the pissed off woman. “Mags has a date.”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “He’s busy with homework and needs to practice his sax.”
“Naw, that’s cool. I don’t mind helping.” He poked around in the fridge.
I shifted Ella to my shoulder and wished I hadn’t. Urine soaked into my shirt. “See? Zach and I can handle the kids.”
“Okay. I’ll go.” She folded her arms.
I turned my head before she caught me staring at her chest. “Which room do you want me and Ella in?”
Maggie glanced at the baby and sighed. “I’m in the guest room. You can take the master.”
“Can she sleep in the bed with me?”
“Uh, no, but Ryan’s crib is still in there. He doesn’t use it anymore.” She snatched her cell phone from the counter and headed for the back of the house.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Let me clear it out.”
Unsure what to do, I trailed behind her. Better to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t start overthinking the situation and throw us out on the street.
Maggie tossed a towel on the floor and took the diaper bag from my arm. “Lay her down.”
I knelt and placed Ella in front of her. Maggie had changed since the last time I’d seen her. She smiled less, and the twin wrinkles between her brows had de
epened. Raising three kids hadn’t been completely unkind. She’d filled out in ways that made me want to slide my hands beneath her T-shirt and explore her new curves.
“Use a wipe, even if she’s wet. No powder, no ointment, unless she has diaper rash.” She did some sort of ninja move with the diaper.
“Wait, slow down and do that again.”
She gave me an impatient look that reminded me of my mother. “It’s simple. Put the clean diaper under her bottom before you pull out the dirty one.”
“Got it.” I didn’t have it. In fact, I didn’t have any clue how she’d pulled it off.
“She should be eating every three to four hours, but don’t wake her to feed her. She’ll let you know when she’s hungry.” She pulled a clean pair of pajamas out of the bag and dressed Ella. “Follow the directions on the formula can to make her bottles. They need to be body temperature. Put the bottle in hot water, don’t use the microwave. Always test the milk on the inside of your wrist before you give it to her.”
“Got it.” I lifted my daughter into my arms.
Maggie opened her mouth as if she had something to say but bit her lip.
“Thanks.”
She put the wipes back into the bag and pulled out the envelope with Ella’s birth certificate. “What’s this?”
“Read it. Tell me if it looks legit.” As much as I wanted the documents to be bogus, I doubted they were.
Maggie’s frown deepened with each page. “They seem that way, but you should call the lab.”
“I’ll have my attorney look into it, maybe run a second test to be sure.”
“Do it soon, before you get more attached.” She glanced at the clock and sighed. “I use the master bath. I’ll move my stuff out later, but I don’t have time to do it right now. I need to get dressed.”
Memories of the two of us in my shower hardened my cock—the bastard always did have bad timing. “We can share.”
Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1) Page 3
