by Leroux, Lucy
Ethan was panting by the time he was inside. The kid tugged on his fingers.
“Yeah, I know. I’m gonna get her this time. I’ve had enough of this shit,” he added in a lower voice.
Ethan had decided to move the circus upstairs. Hopefully, he could contain this fiasco there.
Chapter Four
The aspirin was working…maybe. Ethan felt the woman’s forehead as he laid her on his bed. Then he called Donovan again.
When he failed to reach his friend, he left a voicemail and followed it up with an additional, slightly desperate, email asking Donavon to call back as soon as possible. Another try at 9-1-1 was a bust as well. Like it or not, he was on his own.
Gritting his teeth, he dug out his old mercury thermometer. He put a knee on his bed to loom over her. “Hey, whatever your name is…I’m going to stick this in your mouth, okay?”
Her lids cracked open, her lips parting. They moved, but he couldn’t understand the low murmur that came out.
“Err…I’m going to take that as a yes.”
Ethan reached out and put his thumb on her chin, gently prying her mouth open wide enough to slip the bulbous end of the thermometer under her tongue.
One hundred and four. Fuck. That was hot enough to cook her brain, wasn’t it?
“Shit.” He put his hands on his head. “Look, I think I need to take your clothes off, but you need to say it’s okay.”
She moaned.
“Can I get a clear yes or no?” He wrinkled his nose. “Consent is kind of a big thing in my line of work. There are all these seminars they make us go to…”
“Luna.”
He bent closer. “Luna? Is that your name.”
“No.”
All right. Maybe she meant the moon was full today… “Then what is your name?”
She whispered something, but he didn’t catch it. Ethan lowered his head until his ear was right over her mouth.
“Julietta.”
“Julietta?” Ethan mangled it. His Spanish pronunciations had always been terrible. “Like Juliet? So, is it okay? Can I undress you?”
“Luna.” Her lashes fluttered closed. She didn’t say anything else.
Executive decision time. Wincing, Ethan started tugging at the sleeve of the sweater.
“I get no enjoyment from this—I swear.” He rolled the bottom waistband part up until it was over the bra, a plain beige number that had seen better days.
It could have been black lace, an expensive La Perla set, and she would have looked the same to his eyes. Fucking amazing.
The slight bronze to her skin almost made her glow. Luscious curves shone against the drab beige as if they were mocking it. The full curves of her breasts made his mouth water. Unable to pull his eyes away, he followed the line of each curve over her defined arms and down to her narrowed tapered waist.
The woman wasn’t perfect, though. She was a lot thinner than he would have liked. He could count each of her ribs. Something told him the anemic-model look wasn’t something she was going for by choice.
Stop fucking checking her out. Ethan had seen plenty of hot girls wearing a lot less. Hotter ones even, he thought. Well…that was debatable. This girl was spectacular.
Ethan turned his head, undoing the waistband of her jeans by feel alone. Good thing I’ve had lots of practice undoing these in the dark.
He tugged the denim down, revealing long silky legs that went on for days. Well, hell. Someone up there either loved or hated him.
You forgot about her kid. Okay, hated. It was definitely hated.
The squatter— Julietta—began to shiver.
Ethan threw a sheet over her. “Uh, I’m going to go now. I know you may feel a little cold, but it’s better this way. We need to get that fever down.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him.
Now where was that kid?
* * *
Ethan went down to the studio after securing the child in a makeshift playpen made from couch cushions. Worried about leaving the toddler alone, he hurried to grab everything he could get his hands on—diapers, wipes, bibs, and other items he didn’t recognize, stuffing the supplies into a clean garbage bag.
On impulse, he decided to get the mother a change of clothes. He was surprised to find everything already packed, along with the majority of the kid’s things, and piled up in the corner. They were living out of suitcases.
How many months had they been here? Even he would have been unpacked by now.
Well, you’ve been after her to move out. Julietta might have been apartment hunting all this time, ready to clear out, and he’d been assuming the worst, believing she hadn’t been looking at all.
Ethan returned to his apartment to find his little fortification in shambles. The kid had pulled a Godzilla, managing to bust through the walls. The toddler sat on his cushion-less couch, eating a few pretzels he’d left out on a plate the night before.
“Enjoy them, kid,” he said, waving a plastic jar of baby food in its direction. “That’s the last junk food you’re getting before it’s back to this.”
He risked turning his back on the child, placing the baby food and diaper-changing supplies on the coffee table as if preparing for a siege.
The setup wasn’t much compared to the nurseries some of his friends had for their kids. The wealthy ones had fancy changing tables, along with machines that warmed up baby wipes and bottles. This girl had used a piece of cardboard covered in duct tape to make a waterproof changing mat.
If it was good enough for her, it was good enough for him. He only made one small change, opting to put a towel over the cardboard. Then he called the kid over.
Naturally, it ignored him.
“Do you want a clean diaper or not?”
Ethan reached out, but it dodged his arms. “No,” the toddler yelled, running around him like a wide receiver trying to earn his signing bonus.
A full two minutes later, he was out of breath, sweating and panting. The kid had dodged under the dining room table before weaving around the chairs, knocking over one in the process.
He caught the chair before it hit the floor. “You have a bright future with the Patriots if you keep that up.”
Taking a cue from his own speech, Ethan faked left, psyching out the kid long enough to make a grab. He wrestled the wiggling little creature onto the makeshift changing mat, hurrying to strip off the wet grey pants and full diaper before the toddler rolled off.
It was a girl.
Shit. Should he even be touching her now since he knew she was female? This was the kind of thing men found themselves in the shitter for.
It’s not like you have a choice. The mom was incapacitated.
“Well, I guess you’re not going to be a football player after all,” he observed as he wiped her clean. “Not unless the NFL gets way more progressive by the time you grow up.”
A thought occurred to him. “Hey, is your name Luna?”
Could that have been what the mother meant? The little girl stopped waving her arms to stare suspiciously.
“Again, I’m going to take that as a yes.” Ethan sighed, working as quickly as he could to put a diaper on her.
It wasn’t fast enough. With a surprisingly rapid swipe of her arm, the little girl knocked his brand-new universal remote off the table. Reacting instinctively, he knelt to pick it up. The sneaky little imp rolled and slid off the table, laughing and giggling as she ran bare-assed around his apartment.
Swearing under his breath, he dived after her. He tripped, crashing into the front of the couch and landing on his trick knee. Pain radiated up his body. Neck corded tight, he swore under his breath again before pulling himself up and hobbling after the imp.
She was going to get pee everywhere. He was glad he’d paid extra for the stain-resistant upholstery on the couch.
Okay, this is humiliating. Ethan was a fit man, an FBI agent on the fast track. He couldn’t let the kid win. Plus, the furniture was brand new.
&nbs
p; The second attempt proved worse than the first. He managed to get her down on the improvised changing table, but Luna soaked the towel before he could get the new diaper under her.
Scowling, he worked the wet cloth out from underneath her and laid her directly on the duct-taped cardboard. Luna disapproved. She screamed, a high-pitched wail worthy of a banshee.
Flinching at the ear-splitting sound, he accidentally let her roll off the mat again. By the time he got her back in position, there was baby poop all over his new cherry-wood table.
“I haven’t even broken it in yet,” he groused as he tugged the fresh diaper around and finally managed to get the sticky little tabs open and attached.
Her response was to kick him in the ribs. A tiny foot lifted imperiously, toes pointed like a dancer. It shouldn’t have hurt, but her bony digits dug into his ribcage with surprising force. Then she kept her feet there, pushing with all her might.
“Ow,” he said loudly. “Cut that out!”
Luna blinked, her big brown eyes widening. Her lower lip trembled ominously, her eyes filling with crystalline tears.
“Oh hey, I’m sorry, Little Moon,” he cooed, picking her up and cradling her. “I’m normally not this terrible. My godson likes me, I swear. He likes Paw Patrol and wrestling, too. Maybe we can watch some of that later. But I won’t snap at you again, I promise…”
He pulled away to see her little face, guilt shredding his insides when she continued to cry. Ethan continued to rub her back while rocking the way he’d seen his friends do with their kids. Her crying finally turned into shuddering hiccups.
“This isn’t your fault,” he acknowledged, continuing to rock as he paced around the living room. “And it’s not your mom’s fault. She’s sick, and she can’t take care of you right now. We were both in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The gut-wrenching sniffles began to subside as he paused in front of double-paned glass windows. The snow was still coming down fast. He could see where the road met the curb below, but only because the snow level was a different height.
Damn. What would have happened if he’d stayed at the hotel with Jason? Julietta had barely made it to her door. Luna could be wandering the hall right now, searching for help that wouldn’t arrive for days. He had no idea how serious Julietta’s illness was, but she was down for the count on the eve of what promised to be one of the year’s worst blizzards.
Luna was blinking heavy lids. Her rosy lips parted before she yawned hugely, her forehead pressing against his shoulder.
“I take it back. Maybe we’re both in the right place,” he amended, cuddling the child close until she fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Five
Baby poop was foul stuff. Ethan wrapped a handkerchief around his mouth to clean it from the table. Thick rubber gloves completed his ensemble.
If I’d known I’d be doing this even two hours ago, I would have borrowed a gas mask from work.
At least the kid was asleep. Once she was dry, Luna had passed out in the corner of the couch, giving him a chance to attend to the mess on the table.
He wiped up as fast as he could. Fortunately, the small turd came off the wood easily—although he would hesitate to eat off the table now. He was stripping off the gloves and throwing them in the trash when the phone rang. It was his partner Jason, wanting to know how he was enjoying his new TV.
Ethan filled him in on tonight’s developments, starting with Julietta passing out in the hallway.
“You’re taking care of a baby?” his partner asked in disbelief. “By yourself?”
Ethan picked up a can of baby formula, then squinted at the directions. “Unless you and that gorgeous wife of yours rent a snowplow, there’s not much choice about that.”
“But you don’t change diapers, not even for your godson.”
Ethan Patrick, his namesake, was the son of Eva Stone and Sergei Damov. The rambunctious boy was three now. Thanks to his miracle of a mother, he was completely potty-trained. Ethan played with the kid whenever he saw him, but in short bursts. He’d never babysat unsupervised.
Jason was quiet for a minute. “I can’t make any promises about the snowplow, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Relax. I was joking. No one should be out in this weather.”
“Is it that bad? You can’t get the mother to a hospital? Assuming her fever is still a hundred and four.”
“With any luck, it should be down by now. Let me check.” Ethan moved to his bedroom.
Julietta had rolled over in his bed several times, working off the sheet as she went. She laid on her side, her glorious body perched precariously on the edge of the mattress. One more revolution and she’d land on the floor.
“Damn.” He rushed over, putting a hand on her hip to keep her from rolling off the bed.
What the hell is it with these women? Why couldn’t they stay put?
“Is the fever still there?” Jason asked.
“Uh…” He reached out, putting his hand on her forehead. “Fuck. Yeah, she’s still burning up. The aspirin didn’t make a dent.”
“Can you get her to a hospital?”
“There’s no way. I’d have to carry her there. I’d do it, too, if it weren’t for the kid. But I can’t manage with both.”
He’d barely been able to change the imp’s diaper. What if she ran off into the snowstorm?
“Are you sure?” Jason was skeptical.
“I’m telling you a car won’t make it. The snowbanks must be three feet now. And they’re only growing.” Ethan snorted, recalling the conversation they’d had when he’d been deciding which car to buy. “I guess you were right. I should have bought the Range Rover instead of the Mustang.”
“Well, you didn’t. You insisted on the sexy muscle car because it was going to get you all the chicks.” Ethan could hear smugness in his partner’s voice. “So, you went downstairs to check the snow level?”
Unnerved by the quietness of the room, Ethan went to the living room. He’d laid the couch cushions on the floor, much like Julietta had done with the mattress downstairs. The toddler laid very still. He put his palm above her mouth, relaxing only when hot puffs warmed his hand.
Good. The kid was still breathing. “Unlike your place, this isn’t a high-rise,” he reminded Jason. “I can see the street level fine from my bedroom. Barring a miracle involving a gang of rogue snow plowers, these roads won’t be passable for a couple of days. Assuming the snowfall stops.”
He could practically hear Jason’s wince across the line. “Are you sure you can manage with a toddler and a sick mom?”
Of course Ethan couldn’t, but what could he say? He gave Luna’s little form the side-eye. “Well, changing diapers is not my idea of fun, but at least I paid attention the last few times I visited Thalia and Trick at the hotel. I managed, but, honestly, dealing with mobsters and arms dealers is preferable.” He sighed. “Diapers get easier with practice, right?”
Noncommittally, Jason grunted. “I wouldn’t know. What about the mother?”
“Julietta,” Ethan repeated, testing the name aloud again. His rusty Spanish didn’t manage to get the pronunciation right. “As long as that fever breaks, I can manage both,” he lied.
There wasn’t anything Jason could do from across town anyway. Why worry him?
“I’ll keep an eye on the weather reports. Once it improves, I’ll call in the cavalry.”
Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Who would that be?”
There was the sound of movement on the other end of the line. “Whoever I can find.”
“Well, it would have to be someone with a snowmobile or a pack of sled dogs because no one else should be out in this weather.”
Jason laughed. Ethan didn’t have the heart to say he wasn’t joking.
* * *
Ethan held up the phone to Julietta’s face.
“Turn on your flashlight and open her mouth. I want to check her glands,” Donovan Carter said.
His physician
friend and co-investor had finally called Ethan back. “Okay, now into her ears.”
Ethan shifted the phone, replacing the cold compress on Julietta’s forehead with his other hand. He’d been doing it every few minutes since hanging up with Jason, but the fever never seemed to get any lower. Thank God Luna is still asleep.
“Well?” he asked.
“You know diagnosis over video chat is likely to be wrong, don’t you?” Donovan grumbled. “What meds do you have on hand?”
“Aspirin, ibuprofen, and some NyQuil.” The cold medicine hadn’t even been Ethan’s. It had been left behind by a female friend who’d stayed overnight a few times during the last month at his old place. She’d religiously taken a shot every night before bed. She liked her Cosmos a bit too much as well.
That relationship hadn’t lasted long.
The tapping of a keyboard brought him back to the present. “Hmm. Did you know the CDC flagged several cases of meningitis in your neighborhood?”
“Meningitis?” Ethan reared back. “How contagious is it?” His one semester of med school hadn’t gotten that far.
“Depends on what kind. It says here the cases were viral, which is better for you, but at least one was suspected to be bacteria. That wasn’t confirmed, but, with bacterial, I’d say you’d need to get that kid out of there as soon as you could.”
“Not really an option, but I’ll try to keep them separated from now on.” Ethan checked the thermometer. It was down precisely one degree.
“Whatever you can do,” Donovan replied, still shuffling papers in the background. “Do you have any face masks on hand?”
“I do actually,” Ethan said with some relief. “They’re for refinishing the floors.”
“Use them. And don’t let the mom sneeze or cough on you. Wash up often.”
“How can you know which kind of meningitis it is?” Ethan asked.
