Worth It

by Linda Kage

  I sent him an untrusting scowl.

  He nodded patiently, encouraging me. “Trust me.”

  With a heavy sigh, I fashioned my arms to hold an imaginary infant, instantly feeling like an idiot. If he was spoofing me—

  But Knox slid our niece into my waiting arms seamlessly. I looked down at her and sucked in a breath.

  “Oh, wow.” I was holding a baby, Garrett’s redheaded daughter. “She’s so light.”

  I glanced up at Knox, and he grinned. “And she’s probably doubled her weight since she was born.”

  He seemed so much like a proud father, I caught my breath and gazed at his perfection a couple seconds too long before I cleared my throat and looked down at Bentley again.

  She was adorable, even with her lip puckering and her tiny face turning red.

  A grumbly, baby complaint rumbled from her, and I panicked.

  “Oh, no. What’s wrong?” I turned to Knox for help, but he didn’t seem too concerned.

  “Could be any number of things. Hungry, tired, gassy, uncomfortable. Try swaying with her back and forth. She seems to like movement.”

  So, I started to sway, but Knox laughed and held up a hand. “Not quite so fast. Nice, gentle, soothing.” He swayed back and forth himself to show me what he meant, so I followed his lead. I watched him as he watched me. Seconds later, his lips curved with approval. “There you go. Perfect.” His tone matched our back and forth movement. Druggingly peaceful.

  I finally dug up the courage to look back down at the settled infant and grinned. Yeah. There. She did seem better.

  Until I spoke. “You are just so dang cute. Yes, you are.” I went in to rub my nose against hers, and...wrong move.

  Bentley burst out wailing. I shoved her at Knox, unable to deal, and he fumbled to catch her.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I burst out. Once she was safely in his arms but still wailing, I hugged myself self-consciously. “I told you I’d break her.”

  “She’s fine.” He rolled his eyes, talking to her in a soft voice, and did the swaying thing as he plunked his knuckle into her mouth until she finally settled again.

  “Okay, you have a talent,” I had to admit.

  He glanced up. “I’ve had practice. It comes with the territory when you’re the oldest of six.”

  I felt like a big phony for being the youngest of three.

  “Is she basically a happy baby?” I asked.

  “I guess. I don’t know. She has her moments. Mercy can lose her patience pretty easily. Usually someone else will step in and help out, but there’s been a few times they’ve just cried at each other for a while. But living in a house that size with eight other people, you gotta expect some tense moments.”

  “I bet,” I murmured, trying to imagine what his life was like. I lived with four other people in a huge sprawling mansion—sometimes I wouldn’t see some family members for days—and it could still get tense in our home. Being smashed together with them, so we were right in each other’s faces day in and day out, would be... I didn’t even know. I shook my head. “I bet it gets pretty hectic.”

  Knox leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Want to know a secret?”

  I nodded, unable to look anywhere but into his eyes.

  He grinned. “I escape a lot.” Then the grin faltered. “Sometimes I dream of the day I don’t ever have to go back there. But then, there will be a month that the only way we get the bills paid is because of the extra I helped bring in with my job. And I feel shitty for even thinking about escaping.”

  I didn’t know how to answer. I felt awful for him...until an idea struck.

  “You could sue.”

  He glanced at me, squinting his confusion.

  So I waved a hand, trying to clarify. “My family, I mean. Garrett. For child support.”

  When he arched an eyebrow, I blushed and glanced away, guilty for suggesting such a traitorous thing against my own family. But seriously, we had the money, and Bentley was one of us. It only seemed right that my niece get all the support she could.

  Knox sighed and looked down at the girl in his arms. “I know,” he finally admitted. “But my dad’s too lazy, too drunk.” He shrugged. “Too stupid. I was a little surprised he’d even had the verve to storm the Bainbridge house before Bentley was born. But that will be all he ever accomplishes over that. Mercy’s all bitch and moan, but never act. She’ll never do anything about it, either. And my mom...she’d rather go broke than accept anything from a Bainbridge.” Glancing at me, he winced. “No offense, but I’m with her on that score.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Instinctively, I wanted to reassure him that I wasn’t offended, but I kind of was. It wasn’t like Bainbridge money was dirty or anything. Then again, I guess I understood the pride part of it. Still, his answer left a tense lull in the air.

  When a sound came from Bentley, we both looked down as if eager for a diversion. Her eyes were closed as she shifted in her sleep and turned her face toward the warmth of Knox’s chest...lucky girl.

  “Is she...” I wrinkled my nose. “Is she snoring?”

  He chuckled. “I think so.” He sent me a curious look. “You want to hold her again? While she’s sleeping like this.”

  I immediately shook my head, still too intimidated by the ten-pound kid.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just...I’m fine with watching you hold her.”

  The way he looked at me made me realize how I’d just announced I wanted to watch him. My face flamed hot. But he only grinned.

  “Okay, then.” Backing up a few steps until he had his back to the tree, he lowered himself to his haunches and then sat on the ground. Then he resituated the baby on his shoulder and heaved out a relaxed sigh as he closed his eyes.

  He made it look so inviting I eased down a few feet away, facing him. After resting my hands on my crossed knees and letting out my own deep breath, I bit my lip, realizing there was really no more reason for me to sit here, watching Knox Parker hold a sleeping baby. I’d come to meet Bentley, interact with my niece, not drool over some cute boy.

  But nothing was going to make me leave just yet.

  Needing to speak before I imploded from the overwhelming effects of girl-crushing-in-the-presence-of-a-hot-guy anxiety, I blurted, “It’s really nice and peaceful out here, isn’t it?”

  Knox didn’t open his eyes, but he did smile, which was...oh my God, absolutely beautiful.

  “This is my favorite place on earth.”

  Mine too.

  I might have sighed.

  His eyes came open. Crap, I hope he hadn’t heard that. Uncrossing my legs, I pulled them together and bent them up to my chest, hugging them and hiding as much of myself as possible.

  “So, uh...” I glanced around the quiet forest, where I couldn’t even spot a squirrel to talk about. “What did the duck say when he bought lipstick?” When Knox snorted, I glanced at him and frowned. “What?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not getting me this time. Ducks don’t buy lipstick.”

  One of my legs escaped my arm hug and straightened so I could reach it out and nudge his foot with mine. “Come on. Just play along.”

  “No way.” He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not falling for that again. If mutes don’t talk, then ducks don’t wear freaking lipstick.”

  “Okay, fine.” I sighed dramatically, even though I kind of loved that he was talking to me...even if it was about duck lipstick. “Theoretically, if a duck were to wear lipstick and have the ability to speak, what do you think it’d say if it ever bought lipstick?”

  His mouth opened, but no words came. A thoughtful frown creased his brow before he slumped his shoulders and shook his head. “I give up. What would a duck say?”

  I let a dramatic second of silence follow his question before I answered, “Put it on my bill.”

  Knox stared at me, squinting slightly before he closed his eyes, bowed his head and sighed. “Seriously, Bainbridge? That’s awful. It’s even cheesier
than the mute-midget joke.”

  “It is not!” Okay, it might’ve been. But my gut instinct to disagree with him flared to life, because I really liked to argue-banter with Knox Parker.

  “Someone needs to teach you some good and dirty, lewd jokes.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why do you think dirty jokes are so much better than nice, safe, clean ones?”

  His grin was pure, smoking hot, mischievous bad boy. “Because...everything’s better when it’s dirty.”

  Feeling the urge to fan my face and sigh while melting into a puddle of raging hormones, I gulped down my initial reaction and gripped my knees tighter to my chest.

  “Fine,” I said, trying to sound airy and all whatever, even though my voice was a little too high to accomplish such a feat. “I’ll never bother you with my completely appropriate, clean jokes ever again, then.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way,” he chided through a grin. “You know I was just kidding.” It was his turn to nudge my sandals with his ratted sneaker. “Come on. Hit me with another. I swear, I won’t bash this one.”

  “Nope. Not falling for it.”

  “But you never know.” His voice was charming, cajoling, and oh so tempting. “It could be my newest favorite joke of all time.”

  I snorted.

  “Please.” He added an eyelash-batting grin to the begging, which okay, really made me want to give in.

  But I held firm, though I had no idea why, and I lifted my chin stubbornly. “Never again.”

  “Felicity,” he scolded. “Tell me a damn joke.”

  “Uh-uh.” Finding my fingernails suddenly the most interesting things I’d ever inspected, I examined them, looking for chips and dirt. “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?” I asked, totally flipping the conversation around so I wouldn’t end up giving in to him with one of my subpar anecdotes.

  Unable to change gears so quickly, he sent me a startled glance before crinkling his eyebrows. “Huh?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just curious. Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

  Blurting out a laugh, he shook his head. “What is this? Some kind of job interview?” Then he arched an eyebrow and cocked me a sideways glance. “Where do you see yourself in ten years, Miss Bainbridge?”

  I rested my chin on my knees. “In college.”

  “At twenty-five?” he sputtered. “Holy shit, what do you plan on becoming? A freaking doctor?”

  “Actually, yes. But not a medical doctor. And don’t cuss in front of my niece, please.”

  “Pfft.” He snorted and shook his head, even though a grin lingered around his lips. “You think that was bad? You should hear the crap Mercy spews at Bentley to her face. This kid has no chance of not having a potty mouth.”

  I started to tell him he still didn’t need to be part of the problem, but he went and added, “And what kind of doctor isn’t a medical doctor?”

  I shrugged. “A psychological one.”

  “A psych....” He pulled his head back as if surprised. When Bentley stirred in her sleep, he glanced down and shifted her until she was resting her cheek on his shoulder. Patting her back gently and swaying back and forth, he returned his attention to me. “You want to be a psychologist?”

  I nodded and bit my bottom lip. “Yeah. I do. A child psychologist.”

  “Wow,” he murmured, and he actually sounded impressed, which warmed a little spot in my heart. “That’s just...I don’t know. Wow.” When he shook his head, more bewildered than impressed, I frowned.

  “What?” Gnawing on my lip, I watched him intently.

  “Nothing. It’s just. It’s so...random. And yet specific. You don’t see a lot of fifteen-year-olds deciding something quite like that.”

  “Almost sixteen,” I automatically corrected.

  He sent me a dry glance. “Same fucking difference,” he argued, only to quickly revise, “Same freaking difference. Sorry.” When he glanced down at the sleeping baby, something warm passed through me.

  He’d watched his language...for me.

  I loved that.

  “It’s just...” He shrugged before adding, “I can’t see anyone so young wanting to be something like that, just out of the blue, unless you actually know a child psychologist.”

  When I blushed, his brown eyes widened. “Holy shit, you do? You’ve been to a psychologist?”

  “Hey!” I picked up a handful of dirt and acorns and twigs at my side and tossed them at him, making sure they sprinkled over his pant legs and went nowhere near our niece. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. But, no, I haven’t.” I threw more fallen acorns at him. “Why would you automatically assume I’m mentally unstable?”

  He ducked his face protectively and gave a soft laugh, even though the second round also only pelted him from the knees down. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. And I never once thought anything was mentally wrong with you, except maybe your inability to tell a good joke.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Hardy, har har.”

  Knox snickered but just as quickly fell serious again. “I just...you know, sometimes people experience traumatic things when they’re young, and they need help dealing with them, which made me wonder if...you had.”

  The way he watched me felt like a dissection, like he was prying his way into my brain, looking for my deepest darkest secrets...looking for trauma.

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “But I never experienced any traumatic events. I’ve led a very boring childhood.” A very boring, spoiled and elite, yet ignored-by-my-parents childhood.

  His shoulders fell an inch. Then he nodded and gave a very serious murmur. “Good.”

  An unexpected thrill raced through me. He’d been worried about me. I loved that, too.

  Clearing my throat, I glanced away. “My aunt’s a child psychologist,” I explained.

  He nodded and kept watching me but didn’t respond, so I felt compelled to talk more. “I adore her. She’s just...she’s so awesome. And she’s never tried to psychoanalyze me, or whatever, but there have been things she’s said here and there over the years that’s always made me feel better. It’s just like she...gets my predicament, or something.”

  “Your predicament?” he started, only for his gaze to clear with understanding. “Oh, you mean the misfit thing?”

  My face heated as I glanced away, uncomfortable with this track. “Yeah. I guess.”

  But Knox only nodded, no censure or judgment in his gaze. “I take it she’s not a snob like the rest of the Bainbridge clan.” When I sent him a scowl, he shrugged. “What? You still haven’t convinced me to like anyone else in your family, except maybe Aunt...”

  “Cynthia,” I provided. “Except she’s not a Bainbridge. She’s my mom’s older sister on the Worthington side.”

  “Holy shit,” he squawked, his mouth falling open. “Your mom’s a Worthington? And your dad’s a Bainbridge. Jesus, I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

  Heat flooded my belly. I didn’t mean to ask, but my mouth formed the words, anyway. “Stand a chance at what?”

  He froze, looking caught, before glancing away and muttering, “Measuring up.”

  All the air inside me vacated my lungs in a rush. I was so bamboozled by his answer I just gaped at him for a good minute.

  But, seriously...what?

  Why would he in any way feel the need to measure up to me? He was the super-hot, super-sweet, super-amazing older boy who took my breath away with a mere glance. I was the one who felt all insignificant, inexperienced, and...cheesy.

  But there was this flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he checked on Bentley, swallowing so hard the muscles in his throat seemed to trip over a bundle of nerves.

  Needing him to know immediately that he had nothing whatsoever to worry about in that department, I cleared my bone-dry throat. “I think the worth of a person comes more from who you are and less from what you are.”

  Knox glanced at me. His brown eyes were hooded and dark be
fore he shook his head. “Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “You’ll do just fine as a child psychologist.”

  There was never anything so impossible as trying to pee when someone stepped into the bathroom stall next to yours.

  I probably should’ve waited until I got home to do this instead of dashing into the store’s bathroom for immediate answers as soon as I made my purchase. But then I remembered, oh right, going home currently wasn’t an option. Damn.

  Biting my lip, I closed my eyes and tipped my face toward the ceiling. Come on. Come on. Niagara Falls. Atlantic Ocean. Rushing streams. Water parks and flooding canals.

  Pee already!

  The lady next door finished her business and flushed. As the pipes drained, I finally felt a trickle. I rushed to aim the stick under me, hoping I was hitting my target. But this was even more challenging than pissing in a cup at the doctor’s office. Inability to aim pee sucked ass.

  Suddenly I resented men even more than I had ten seconds ago.

  Lucky bastards.

  Lucky cheating bastards who could aim their pee.

  Outside my stall, the other woman began to wash her hands. After I finished and flushed, I pulled up my pants and then waited, sitting, refusing to even look down at the test in my hand.

  Please be negative, please be negative, I silently begged.

  With no idea what I’d do if the result came out with a plus sign on the stick, I hesitantly lowered my face and looked.

  “Oh my God,” I wheezed, as the door to the ladies’ room came open again, admitting a new full-bladdered woman. “Oh, thank you, God.”

  When I stumbled out of my stall seconds later—possibly looking a might crazy-eyed—the woman was still frozen just inside the doorway, her eyes wide with her purse clutched close.

  I blasted her with a smile I couldn’t stop. “Hi! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Then I laughed—one of those maniacal, uncontrollable laughs—because up until now, it’d been a pretty shitty, miserable day for me.

  The woman blinked and then darted into a stall, probably to escape the insane woman she was trapped in a public bathroom with.

  I shrugged and washed my hands. My legs were still shaking with relief as I exited the store and crawled into my beat-up old junker of a tin can car. But when I started the engine, I just sat there, realizing I had nowhere to go. As of half an hour ago, I was officially homeless.