by Whitley Cox
Oh God.
Now he was beginning to panic. If Willow spiked a fever or began to vomit, he wouldn’t be able to take her to the hospital in fear she might contract pneumonia or Ebola or something.
“You’re a good dad,” Emmett said, the sound of a yawn coming through the phone. “You’re worrying just as much as the rest of us did at this stage of the game. But I assure you, she’s just teething. She’s okay.”
Holding Willow against his chest with one hand, his fingers splayed over her back, he ran his other hand through his hair. “Thanks, man. I’m sorry I called you so late.”
“It’s okay. Kiss Willow for me and try to get some rest.”
“Thanks.”
But he hadn’t gotten much rest. Maybe a few hours collectively in the recliner but nothing significant enough to chase away the yawns or the feeling of concrete in his shoes as he slogged around the house with Willow in the carrier. She even lost her mind when he put her in the car seat to drive to the dance studio. Which was why she was now, once again, in the carrier on his chest, barely keeping it together.
“You going to dance with the baby on you?” Adam asked, his arm around Violet as she rubbed her very plump belly.
Mason nodded. “I think I might have to. Little bunny won’t let me out of her sight or put her down.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “I remember that stage. Though Mira preferred Paige at this age because she had the working nipples.”
“Did you guys bring your dancing shoes?” Violet asked, wincing a little as she cocked one hip and shifted her weight to her other foot.
Mason nodded, as did Lowenna.
On Tuesday, he’d only stepped on her toes once, and she said she barely felt it because she was in her fancy stilettos with the closed pointed toe and the extremely high heel. He still wasn’t a foot guy, but if he was, Lowenna’s feet in those black, sparkly things would be what he was into.
“Okay then,” Violet said, waddling over to the stereo in the corner. “Put on your dancing shoes and let’s get going.”
“I can hold her if you want,” Adam offered as Mason grabbed his black dress shoes from his bag and sat down on a chair against the wall to put them on. Willow began to warble in protest when he was forced to bend over and tie his laces. Her warble quickly turned into a shriek, and he bolted right up. “Sorry, baby. Sorry.” He glanced at Adam. “I’m not sure she’s going to let you hold her, dude. Kid is losing her mind these days if she’s not with me. My mom can get away with watching her and holding her, but not even my dad can settle her anymore.”
Adam’s face was that of understanding and pity. “I get it. We’re going to be there ourselves pretty soon.” He glanced back at Violet, who was hunched over just a touch, her hands on the mirror, her head hanging down between her arms.
“She okay?”
“Braxton-Hicks are killing her.”
“You sure she’s not in labor?”
Adam shrugged. “She might be. But that stubborn woman of mine wouldn’t tell us until the dance lesson was over even if she was.”
Mason snickered, then leaned over to try and tie up his laces again.
Willow squawked.
“Here, let me.” Lowenna clickety-clacked her sexy shoes over toward them. She was wearing a pair of tight black leggings or yoga pants or whatever the chicks called them, and they showed off her curves, her ass, her thighs and her calves like she was wearing fucking black body paint.
You cannot get a boner while wearing a baby. You cannot get a boner while wearing a baby.
She sank to her knees and leaned over.
She sank to her fucking knees.
Oh, God help him.
She was in a tight light blue tank top thing with thin straps and a low cut, with just an inch of lace along the neckline. And of course when she leaned over to tie his shoes for him, the front of her top billowed and he could see right down her shirt, into her cleavage to see that she was wearing a black lace bra.
You cannot get a boner while wearing a baby. You cannot get a boner while wearing a baby. You CANNOT get a boner while wearing a baby.
“There,” she said, standing back up. “All tied. You’re good to go.”
He swallowed and stood, thanking her and adjusting his daughter in the carrier while also inconspicuously double-checking that he didn’t have a half-chub. He would never forgive himself if he did.
Phew.
Thankfully, his other head had been smart enough to stay hidden, and he was good to go.
The music started, and Violet slowly made her way toward them all in the center of the room. His friend looked so uncomfortable, so exhausted.
“We’re only going to dance for a minute or two,” she said, nearly out of breath as she took Adam’s hand. “I’m doing more dictating these days than I am demonstrating. My hips can’t take much longer than a few minutes of standing.”
Lowenna’s lips dipped into a frown. “You should just go sit down now. We know the steps.” She glanced up at Mason. “Right?”
He nodded. “Right. Go sit down, Vi. We got this.”
He fucking hoped they had it.
Even though he had improved over the last several weeks, he still felt like a bumbling idiot on the dance floor. Big and awkward and more suited for being the bouncer than the dancer.
But he needed to do this for Lowenna. He had committed to doing this for her.
He took her hand and rested the other one on her waist, both of them adjusting themselves to accommodate the now sleeping infant between them.
Adam helped Violet over to the chairs along the wall, and the two of them sat down. The relief that crossed Violet’s face was instantaneous.
“Ready?” Lowenna asked, squeezing his hand, her eyes hopeful and bright. “You can do this. We can do this.”
We.
Was there a we? A them?
He didn’t have time to think much more on that before Violet called from the sidelines, “And five, six, seven, eight … ”
Lowenna and Mason locked eyes, gray to blue, hopeful to nervous.
And then they began to dance.
“You guys were amazing!” Violet clapped, beaming from her seat. “I’d get up and hug you, but I don’t want to.”
Lowenna’s breath was coming just as quickly as his. They’d done a quicker step and tempo on that last dance, but thankfully, by grace and by God, he hadn’t stepped on her toes once.
Willow was also still asleep.
Babies were crazy.
Or maybe she was just absolutely exhausted from being up all last night and barely napping that day. Mason was tired too.
Lowenna’s gray-silver eyes glowed beneath the overhead lights, and her smile was bright enough to power the entire city. All he wanted to do at that moment was scoop her up into his arms, twirl her around the room and kiss her. Celebrate that their dance had been flawless, that they’d actually done it. Together. Let her know that they were better together, that he was better when they were together.
“I’d tell you to bow, but you don’t want to piss off the baby,” Adam said, clapping along with Violet. “You guys looked great. Didn’t need us beside you at all.”
“They also look good together,” Violet added. “And with that baby between them.” She shook her head, grinning. “Mhmm, mhmm, it’s like you’re the picture-perfect family. Mom, dad and baby. Who cares about the fundamentals when you all look that good?”
Mason was hot, and not just from their rigorous dancing.
Heat raced through him at Violet’s words. But he also wanted to see Lowenna’s reaction and slid his gaze to the side.
The corners of her lips had turned down.
“Jumping the gun a bit there, Vi,” Lowenna finally said, her chuckle so forced it sounded more like a dry heave.
Violet shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean you guys have been spending a lot of time together. Even though I know this started out as a business arrangement, who says it can’t be more? You’re
practically dating. Why not make it official?”
What the hell was Violet doing?
Mason cleared his throat and was about to say something, anything, to change the subject, but Lowenna beat him to it.
“We’re just trying to get through the nightmare that is Saturday. One step at a time.”
Mason hadn’t realized it, but he and Lowenna were still holding hands. He certainly realized it now when she pulled her hand free and took a step away from him.
Oh, fuck, had Violet just made things worse?
He glanced at his very pregnant friend, but she didn’t appear to be the least bit remorseful for her words. If anything, she seemed convinced that what she’d said was brilliant. The woman’s smile was huge, and her green eyes danced.
He’d have to have words with his best friend’s little sister later.
“I should probably get going,” Lowenna said, ditching her shoes and padding barefoot over to the corner, where her boots had been kicked off.
“I’m driving you,” he said, following behind her. “If you want to try one more dance, I’m sure Vi and Adam wouldn’t mind.”
She shook her head but didn’t look at him. She balanced on one foot and tugged on her hot pink socks. “I’ll just call an Uber. Probably faster than you weaving through the dark, rainy night to get me home. Besides, you look tired.” She lifted her head. She looked a million miles away. “I’ll see you Saturday for the wedding.”
Right. Saturday.
Not tomorrow.
Not Friday, the rehearsal dinner. Because he’d gone and rudely refused her request when she called him a friend and offered to pay him more. Once again reminding him that this was all a transaction. The exchange of money for a service. And his service was to convince everyone that the two of them were madly in love.
She dipped her head again and zipped up her boots. “I have a busy day tomorrow. I should get home.” Then before he could protest or convince her to stay, she threw a wave over her shoulder at Adam and Vi and was off toward the front door, her coat and purse tucked haphazardly under her arm.
Moments later, the bell chimed, and he saw her stalking off down the sidewalk in front of the studio, her phone out, the backlight illuminating her face.
“What was that about?” Vi’s voice brought his wandering thoughts back to the moment. “Everything okay between you? I didn’t overstep, did I? I was just kidding around.” She’d heaved herself up from her chair and was now standing beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
Mason shook his head and blinked before turning to face his friend. Adam had come to stand next to Vi. “I love her.”
Violet’s mouth opened to form a little O, and her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know it’d gotten that serious.”
He swallowed. “She’d been coming into the bar for weeks before I finally spoke to her. And even then, before I even knew her name, I’d fallen for her. But she looks at me as just a friend … ” He dipped his head and kissed the top of Willow’s head. “Oh, and her gigolo. I’m a friend and a boyfriend for hire.”
“How can you change that?” Violet asked, squeezing his shoulder.
He shook his head. “I have no idea. Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, she pulls back. She flirts and jokes and then all of a sudden she reins it all back and brings up that I’m her date for hire.” And every time it gutted him. Made him see red that he’d agreed to such a stupid arrangement. He should have just been his charming, charismatic self and convinced her to date him for real, and then he would just accompany her to the wedding. But she’d been so adamant that it be a business deal, he hadn’t argued hard enough.
She threw him off his game.
He’d been known as one of the best closers in the city. He could convince almost anybody to take the deal his company was offering. He just had a way with words. And that way with words also worked with the ladies.
But for some reason, he struggled to find those words when he was around Lowenna. He couldn’t close the deal with her.
“You need to go above and beyond the job description, bro,” Adam said quietly. “Knock her socks off. Surprise her. Show her that it’s not a business arrangement anymore, that it’s personal. Make her see what the rest of us already see.”
How could he do that?
He blinked a few times and took a deep, grounding breath before he raked his fingers through his hair and chuckled. “Holy fuck, having baby girls makes you get in touch with your emotions.” He forced out a breathy laugh. “My five-years-ago self would be asking my now self if I need to go change my tampon.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “Emotions aren’t a bad thing.”
Adam slapped Mason on the back. “Don’t I know it, bro. I’m going to be living in a house with three women.”
Mason’s gaze flew down to Vi’s belly, then back up to his friends’ faces. “It’s a girl?”
Violet and Adam exchanged loving glances. “We tried to wait, but patience is neither of our strong suits.” Violet rubbed her belly. “We’re having a girl.”
“That’s awesome, guys.”
Adam looped his arm around Violet and tugged her into his side. She leaned against him, her eyelids getting heavy. “Let us know how the wedding goes. We’re very interested to hear how the bride and groom dance.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be able to find it on YouTube,” Violet said with an eye roll. “She has a blog and Instagram followers. Many, apparently. That video will be viral before the weekend is over. She’s going to make sure of it.”
Mason cringed. He was both dreading and interested in finally meeting the infamous Doneen and her douche-canoe of a fiancé, Brody. Having a wedding on Valentine’s Day was one thing, but also on Lowenna’s birthday …
And then it hit him.
It was tough to make a circle with only three of them, but he did the best he could. Both Adam and Violet looked at him with curious expressions.
“I think I know how to surprise her,” he said. “But I’m going to need the help of all the single dads … and their women.”
Violet and Adam’s faces split into big grins.
Violet waddled over to the mirror, grabbed a chair and set it down where she’d just been standing. She sat down with a satisfied ah. “Okay, let’s get planning.”
14
Lowenna cracked her neck side to side and tried to massage away the knots of painful tension glued to her shoulders. It was Friday night, the night before the wedding, and of course, she was still at the chocolate shop. She’d sent her staff home at closing time after calling everyone in early that day to help with Valentine’s stock as well as the chocolate-covered strawberries for the wedding.
Doneen had called around four o’clock with a quality check, as she called it, wanting to know how things were going. She also made sure Lowenna knew she wouldn’t be missed at the rehearsal dinner if she had to cancel to finish up perfecting the chocolate centerpiece.
The bitch.
Was she micromanaging all of the vendors or just Lowenna?
She wasn’t sure which would be worse.
Knowing she was probably going to be working late, she brought her dress and makeup to the shop with her that morning. It would be a rush getting out of there on time. She had to put the final touches on the centerpiece, get dressed, put on makeup and fluff her hair. Not to mention call for a cab or Uber, which most likely was going to be impossible. It was Friday night, the restaurant was out past Lynnwood, and it was pouring rain. Any form of hired transportation was going to be unavailable.
Doneen and Brody wanted an elaborate four-foot-high chocolate centerpiece made of milk, dark and white chocolate. It had 3D busts of a man and woman locked in a passionate kiss, sitting atop a bed of shaved white and milk chocolate roses, while a paper-thin chocolate heart framed their kiss. Then, in white chocolate lettering on the heart, it said Doneen and Brody Forever.
Gag!
Her sister had come up with an abso
lutely impossible design and then expected Lowenna to execute it—for free.
At first, Lowenna wasn’t sure she would be able to pull it off, but then the more she thought about it all, the more she knew she had to. People would be in awe of her raw talent. And then once she gave her speech, they’d not only think her a chocolate visionary but also a woman with a backbone who refused to lie down and let two cheating bastards walk all over her.
She grabbed the bottle of liquid freeze and gave the white lettering a few shots. Doneen wanted block letters, poured by hand, but Lowenna had a steady hand, and her freehand cursive was gorgeous. So she took the liberty of changing the plans and piping out Doneen and Brody Forever in white chocolate. Even though in her mind she was writing, Bitchface and Micropenis Forever.
Once she knew the chocolate had set, she carefully rolled the entire centerpiece back into the cooler. Pablo was a genius for suggesting they assemble the piece on a rolling trolley. It made way more sense than lifting it back and forth from the cooler to the kitchen.
Now it was time to get dressed. But not without a bit of a celebration of her own first.
After their first successful week of being open, she and her small staff of four had a little party after closing. Pablo brought tequila. That was when they came up with their tequila lime bonbons. They’d become a huge crowd pleaser when they finally debuted them, and Pablo—the chocolate painting wizard—made them look so decadent in neon green, they were almost too pretty to eat … almost.
She grabbed the half-full bottle of tequila from the pantry, then slipped into the cooler and placed four tequila bonbons on a plate before making her way over to the table that housed the nearly three hundred wrapped and ribboned wedding guest favors.
She didn’t bother with a shot glass, but before she took a sip, she held the bottle up to the stack of boxes. “Here’s to you, sister dear. May you get your just desserts.” She tipped the bottle up until her mouth was full, cringed and then swallowed.
Fuck, that shit was foul.
