DILF DIARIES: Oh Baby

by St. Klaire, Stephanie

  Shaking her head, warring with her own thoughts, she tried to hand the baby back. “Take her in with you.”

  The throbbing heat returned when he hooked his thumbs in his waistband, threatening to drop ‘em. He raised an eyebrow and looked down before meeting her eyes again to send a warning. He wasn’t done stripping, and she was holding the baby.

  A quiet pivot later, she turned her back, baby still out in front to offer him privacy — not that there was much left between them. Silently, she shamed herself for side-eyeing the mirror, hopeful to catch a glimpse of the infamous Pecker in all his glory and his mighty hose. She was back to cheeky pet names for certain body parts in her dirty little head. So much for anatomical correctness. The frosted shower door closed, and she still held the messy baby, who seemed content with the banter and being passed back and forth. She was quickly reminded why he got under her skin. He was showering; the baby was not. Jackass.

  All bets off, she marched over, slid the door open with her foot, and held the baby his direction with her own head turned away, trying not to see the goods she had been so desperate to get a glimpse of seconds before. Priorities. There was sneaking a peek through the mirror and there was full frontal ogling with tears in your eyes, erect nipples pushing through your tank top, and drool escaping the corner of your mouth. Neither was flattering, but only one was obvious.

  “Jules!” He covered himself with his hands and a wash cloth. “I’m…naked.”

  “She’s a baby and doesn’t care.”

  “She’s a…she,” he argued.

  “Like you haven’t flashed it to plenty of shes before,” Jules fired back. “This one is the only one unimpressed. Is that the problem?”

  “No…she’s a baby. That’s the problem. It’s weird. Plus, babies…grab…things.”

  “Well, you naked is certainly how you got said baby. Take her, Jack. She’ll get a rash if she’s in this too long.”

  His eyes grew wide. “A rash? Oh shit.”

  “Language.”

  “Well, turn around,” he insisted.

  “Oh, for God’s sake…”

  “Just turn around and hand me that towel. And don’t look in the mirror!”

  Jules eyes went wide, worried she’d been caught. “You’re getting out? But she—”

  “Jules, just hand me the towel.”

  “My hands are sort of full and…gross.”

  “Shit.”

  “Language.”

  “Are we still on that?” When she didn’t respond, he rephrased, “Shoot! Okay, two steps forward then.”

  Standing there waiting for his next move, she heard ruffling behind her. Then, Jack, in a low slung white towel hugging his tight ass and accenting his rippling back with every step as he walked past her, disappeared into the bedroom. He returned wearing swim trunks and a grin as he stepped back into the shower. When Jules turned toward him, he was standing with his arms extended, reaching for the baby.

  “Compromise,” he claimed. “Now, hand her over.”

  “Quick thinking, Decker. Now…uh, unbutton her romper while I hold her.” Jules looked around before she stretched her leg, hooking the nearby trash can with her foot and sliding it under Ramsey. “Just drop it all in and I’ll take it out.”

  “Throw away her clothes?”

  “Are you going to wash them?”

  “Good point. Trash it is.” He winced. “How does something so small do…that?”

  “The same way someone like you…never mind.”

  “Yeah…let’s not…”

  “Got it.” She handed him the now naked baby and gave him the plan. “You get to washing, I’ll get rid of the trash.”

  “Can you hand me her soap before you leave? It’s in that tall cabinet.”

  When she opened the cabinet, she found a little pink caddy with baby soap, lotions, creams, a small stack of matching pink towels and washcloths…and several bottles of hand sanitizer. Of course, he would have necessities such as these, but something about how her coordinated items had their own spot in his space gave her a flutter. It wasn’t confirmed, technically, but between their matching dimples and how Ramsey was clearly moving in, he was a dad. A H-O-T dad.

  “Jules?”

  “Oh…uh, found it. Just grabbing…everything. You think you have enough hand sanitizer?”

  “Did you see what she just did? I may need more.” And he wasn’t kidding.

  Lost in thought, Jules made her way to dispose of the trash while pondering all the things she’d learned about Jack in his moment of crisis. One: he didn’t handle a crisis of this magnitude well. He could save people from burning buildings, rescue wounded bodies from wreckage without a wince, but baby yuck? He couldn’t handle it.

  She also learned he had a sensitive nerve — a button to push. He didn’t like being reminded of his reputation and halfway denied it was even true. Interesting. Why deny it now? Three: he was a good guy, at least where Ramsey was concerned. His house was completely modified and reequipped for that little girl, down to her own toiletries cabinet in the bathroom. Finally, she learned the guy was a germaphobe. He had hand sanitizer everywhere. The big bottles.

  When she returned to check on them, she found Jack in that same white towel, sans trunks, that made her feel things that required her own shower — a cold one. Ramsey was diapered, and he was slathering her in lotion while talking softly to her, earning little grins and coos as he got her dressed.

  If Juliet knew anything, it was there was nothing hotter than a man with a body like Jack’s wrapped in a towel…with a baby. Jack was a playboy, a real ass, but her ovaries burst just the same, because he was sex on a stick and she wished it was her turn to be slathered in lotion.

  The room became hot as she imagined his big, strong hands caressing her body, massaging her, until she heard him call her name and nearly lost control. Jules. She whispered, “Yes,” in a sultry moan. He said it again. Jules. And she replied again, with a long, “Mmmm.”

  “Jules, you okay over there?”

  Oh shit! He really was calling her name — this whole dream state versus reality thing was making her look like an idiot more and more. Pulled from her lust-filled thoughts as her cheeks heated to crimson, she replied, “Um, yeah. What?”

  Jack grinned, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, which only made her shrink that much more and remember why she didn’t like him. He was pompous, arrogant, and knew the power he possessed with a simple smile, much less half-naked in a towel. Damn him.

  “You want to…?” And because he was a prick, and enjoyed her discomfort, he stalled and licked his lips before finishing his thought, to which a small whimper escaped her. “Go with us to the store?”

  After a nervous gulp, her voice cracked, “The store. Right. Uh,

  what’s at the store?”

  “Ramsey feels a little feverish. I need to get something for that, right?” he asked, back to serious. “Can you help me with that?”

  “Oh. Sure. Tylenol. Baby Tylenol. You probably want some Pedialyte too. The kind of sick that exploded all over you requires fluids.”

  “Oh. Is it serious? Should I have her seen?” he asked with concern.

  “No. I mean, yes, but no. Serious, but not doctor serious, but it could be if not treated right.” She fumbled over her words. “I can help. If it reaches doctor stage, I’ll let you know.”

  Jack packed her bag with extra diapers, outfits, and when questioned, explained you can never be too prepared — especially after what just happened. In fact, just the thought of that prompted him to toss in another hand sanitizer.

  When Jules grabbed the formula, she noticed the label was slightly different. It was the wrong one. Just to be sure, she grabbed the old one from the recycle bin. The old can was soy, and Jack had been giving her milk based.

  When she pointed it out, sadness and regret filled him. “I didn’t realize there was a difference. Just went for a brand without reading the label.”

  Jules nodd
ed. “If there was ever a question, we just confirmed she’s sensitive or allergic to the milk one.”

  The more he thought about it, the more guilt he nurtured. As a firefighter, he understood allergies. They responded to plenty of calls involving anaphylaxis and such. He felt terrible. “I almost killed her.”

  “No, you didn’t. You’re doing a good job.”

  “But I made her sick.” He pulled Ramsey close and kissed her forehead, hugging her.

  “It’s okay. Let’s get the right stuff and get her feeling better.” With a reassuring hand on his back, something in the air had shifted. Both were locked in a stare, close, and nearly breathless. Ramsey squealed, breaking whatever had just passed between them.

  They made it to the store in record time. Jack was on a mission, and it involved making it home without another baby explosion. He bought several boxes of diapers, each a different brand, because he planned to double up now and didn’t trust the advertising on any of them. When he grabbed formula, he had Jules double check he had the correct kind this time as to avoid further diaper debacles and tummy aches. At the end of the aisle, he grabbed a few more hand sanitizers, confirming her suspicion — germaphobe.

  As they passed the proper aisle, he stopped and grabbed a regular baby carrier, not one of those hippy wraps. “This is what we need. That other thing is what started this shit.”

  “Jack…” Jules scolded.

  “I know. Language.”

  When they got back to the house, she helped him understand how to treat with Tylenol and Pedialyte, before leaving them for the night. He thanked her and told her he was taking the week off to get the hang of things on his own. You know, just in case this became permanent. Jules thought it was a great idea.

  When Jack’s cell rang, he was quick to answer. It was Felix. Jules stood by and decided not to leave just yet. Something about Jack’s demeanor took a turn.

  “Hey, man, it took time to track down, but I found out who Ramsey’s mom is.”

  “Are you looking for her?” Jack asked, full of nerves. “Because, I mean, Ramsey is fine, so…”

  “There was a typo on Ramsey’s birth certificate, so it took a little longer to get to the bottom of things. But…uh, no. We aren’t looking for her. She…uh, was in an accident,” Felix said, full of melancholy.

  “Accident?” Jack and Felix went way back, practically brothers, and Jack could tell by his tone the outcome of the investigation wasn’t good, and that accident was pretty final. Despite his gut telling him what had happened, he asked anyway, “She — is she…okay?”

  “I’m sorry, but she died, man,” Felix said, waiting for Jack’s response.

  “Oh, wow. Did you find out much about her? Is she the one from the…uh, Ram Shack? Did she work there?”

  “Yeah. So you did know her?”

  “No, not really. So, how did Ramsey end up here?” Jack asked. Orphans weren’t just dumped on doorsteps by those in charge.

  “I’m still trying to figure out that part. Looking at next of kin and such, but it hasn’t been easy. Seems she went by a few names, and the address was unclear. Moved around a lot. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Yeah… Thanks, man.”

  “Jack, you going to be okay?” Felix asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Look, I’ve got Jules here, so I better go. Talk soon.” Jack hang up before his friend could answer.

  Jack looked at Ramsey and left a long, lingering kiss on her forehead. He’d have to tell her someday…well, if she was his. This cluster fuck of a situation just kept getting worse, and Jack didn’t know which he wanted more: for Ramsey to be his, or not to be his. Letting her go, especially knowing what he did now…it felt…wrong, maybe.

  He turned to Jules. “Her mom. She’s…dead.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Jules was pulling doubles and spending most of her time at the hospital covering shifts and building up her personal time to use at a later date — as if there was something to use the time off for. She hadn’t noticed Jack’s truck leave, but she also hadn’t been home to notice. It had been a full week when she noticed a white delivery van bringing groceries — which was new.

  When the mailman stopped her the next day to ask if she would sign for something for him, because there was no answer at his door for the third day in a row, she began to worry. She accepted the envelope and promptly went next door. He didn’t answer for her either.

  The last time she had seen him, like actually seen him, was a few weeks prior. He was getting home with Ramsey just as Jules was leaving with Dr. Detweiler for a late-night dessert date. Jack appeared tired and barely looked her way when Detweiler informed her Jack and Ramsey had just been to see him in Urgent Care.

  It seemed Ramsey had croup and Jack was on his own for the night. Jules cancelled her date and offered to help Jack since he hadn’t really slept and had his hands full. Of course, she offered on account that she’s a nurse and Ramsey needed her. Rosie was back the next morning, and that was the last she’d seen of Jack.

  She went around back to look around. Peeking in the sliding glass door, she saw him lying in a recliner wearing a robe with Ramsey sitting outright in his lap facing the same direction he was. Worried, she tried the sliding glass door, which wasn’t locked.

  He didn’t even notice she had walked in. He was engrossed in an old game show rerun, staring listlessly at the TV. He was unshaven, his hair was tousled, and there was a stack of baby books on the side table next to empty beer bottles and take out containers.

  “Jack?”

  “Hey, Jules,” he responded, his eyes never leaving the TV.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure,” he said back, unconvincing.

  “It looks like you haven’t left the house…for a while.”

  “That’s because I haven’t.”

  “What about work?”

  He shrugged, still glued to the gameshow on the big screen. “Took personal time.”

  “Is Ramsey okay?” she asked.

  “Ramsey’s good. Great, really. No more exploding baby. Poops like a regular person.”

  “Jack?”

  “What?” His voice was still monotone.

  “Anything you wanna talk about?” She was concerned. Though she stayed for a while after hearing the news about Ramsey’s mom, she thought he was okay. Maybe he wasn’t.

  “Not really.”

  “Have you been like…this for a while?”

  “Pretty much. Ramsey likes TV.” He shrugged again.

  “Okay. Can I hold her?” Jules asked.

  “Sure. She’s probably sick of me anyway.” Jack’s voice was full of dramatics.

  When Jules took the baby and hugged her, Ramsey kicked her little feet. She was happy, in clean clothes, diaper didn’t feel full…the baby seemed just fine.

  “You just don’t seem yourself,” Jules said gently.

  “I’m not. I never will be again.” He looked at Jules with a serious expression. “Everything has changed. I’m not Jack. I’m Jack — someone’s dad…maybe dad.”

  Jules looked at the envelope she’d received from the mailman. The return address indicated the answer to whether or not he was someone’s dad was most likely in that envelope. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  He abruptly slid to the end of recliner, catching Jules by surprise. His robe fell open, and to her disappointment, Jack had underwear on. She kicked herself for thinking such a thing.

  That was the least of her worries. It was now Jack’s turn to explode. “That’s just it, Jules, I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I mean, I literally poisoned her with the wrong formula, never really knew her mother. I mean, what am I supposed to tell her when she asks about her mother? And who wants a dried-up single dad with a baby? I don’t want to shower, I haven’t done my hair, my body…my body is so out of shape now.”

  Jules furrowed her brow in confusion. What the hell was he talking about? There wasn’t a man out there who didn’t have J
ack’s biceps as a goal or woman who wouldn’t want to trace every chiseled peak and valley of his body with her tongue.

  “Eyes up here, Jules. That’s another thing: s-e-x,” he spelled it out in a near whisper, as if to protect Ramsey from a vulgar word. “Who would want to have sex with me after the baby?”

  Not expecting that to fall from his mouth, Jules choked, brows raised and cheeks blushing. This was not the time to say me.

  “I think…” he slid back in his recliner, “I think I have…the baby blues, Jules.”

  Jules burst out in laughter. “Postpartum depression?”

  “See, you’re laughing. Nobody will take me serious now.” Jack grabbed a bottle from the table, and just as it reached his mouth, Jules shouted, “Stop.”

  Startled, he pulled the bottle away from his lips and noticed he was about to take a swig of formula from Ramsey’s bottle. He set it down and grabbed his beer instead, tossing back a long pull.

  “That’s when the stack of books caught her attention again and it hit her. “You read the books.”

  “I…read…the…books,” he said in a disgusted, drawn-out manner.

  “Well, that’s great. But…uh, you may have…misinterpreted some of it.”

  “What are you saying? None of this is real? My feelings don’t matter?”

  A snort escaped her when she tried to choke on her laughter. “No, not at all, Jack. I’m saying that…uh, the hormonal changes that lead to postpartum depression are…well, hormonal from having a baby. You didn’t exactly—”

  “Oh, so now I’m crazy?” He stood urgently. “This is because I’m not a woman, isn’t it? A man can’t have feelings. Give me my baby. It’s time to change her.” He marched off to the nursery where he proceeded to change her, fuming.

  “Jack, all I’m saying is this was a big life adjustment and I’m sure it’s had an emotional impact, but I don’t think you have postpartum depression.”

  “Now you’re a doctor?” Turning to face her, he leaned against the changing table so Ramsey couldn’t roll off, opened his robe to expose his well-defined pecs, and pointed to his nipples. “And my nipples are sore. I think they’re calloused now.”