by Chelle Bliss
Lulu makes a little noise, reaching upward and blowing spit bubbles tinted white from the formula at him. He laughs and scoops her in one arm, holding her tiny head in his giant palm, and places her on his shoulder. He does everything so gracefully that I can’t stop myself from watching in amazement and a little in awe.
He sets his coffee aside and gently rubs her back, tapping her a few times. I want to tell him to watch out because Lulu is a world-class puker. She doesn’t just burp. Nope. Not my kid. She’s ruined more outfits than I care to remember, and her baby formula has become my new perfume, which is something I’m not entirely proud of either.
Lulu lets out a burp that’s so loud, Lucio starts to laugh, but then it happens. As if everything is moving in slow motion, the burp turns liquid, and a pretty big splash of formula vomit lands on his shoulder before dribbling down his back. I cringe, waiting for the moment when he loses his shit. I mean, here’s this hot-as-fuck guy, covered in muscles and tattoos, trying to do me a favor and taking care of a kid who isn’t even his, and she pukes on him.
“Well, aren’t you a messy little princess?” he says, his laughter getting a bit louder when he brings her face-to-face with him. He’s holding her with ease like she doesn’t weigh more than a sack of potatoes, and using one finger, he wipes away the formula left near her mouth. “Feel better?”
God, why does he have to be so freaking hot holding her?
The blush that had started moments ago has now turned into a full-blown furnace, radiating from the inside out. I haven’t wanted to touch a man since Dwight left town, but Lucio, the hottie with my kid, makes my hands itchy to reach out and touch him. It doesn’t matter that he’s covered in Lulu’s throw-up. I’d happily help him get clean.
Stop being a whore.
The words my father had said to me when he found out I was pregnant echo in my mind as I let my thoughts wander to dirty and dark places about the handsome stranger in front of me.
Betty, the lady with the bunny slippers from last night, walks through the front door, going right to Lulu and Lucio. “Delilah still sleeping?”
“Yeah, Ma,” he tells her. “Want me to wake her?”
“You will do no such thing. A mother needs her sleep, and besides—” Betty leans forward and grabs Lulu out of Lucio’s arms “—look at this darling face. I could give her a million kisses.”
“Ma, she’s not yours.”
“She could be. I need some more grandkids, honey. I’m not getting any younger, and neither are you.” She gives him a funny look, and I cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing. “Why don’t you settle down with a girl like Delilah? You’d already have a head start in the grandbaby department, and it would make you my favorite child.”
“Ma.”
“Lucio.”
“Ma, come on. A girl as pretty as her, she probably has a husband, and it doesn’t work that way. If I dated her, that doesn’t mean this is your grandbaby by default.”
“If you were her man, would you let her be out on her own that late at night? And besides, blood isn’t required to be a family. You bring her in, and they’re both my kin.”
I don’t know why, but the floodgates open, and tears start streaming down my face like a torrential downpour. No one in my family talks this way about each other, let alone about complete strangers. Even with my father and me sharing the same blood, he treats me, and Lulu too, like trash. My mother is no better after running off with a guy half her age, never to be heard from again.
“She’s a rich girl. Why would she want some schmuck from the South Side?”
“You’re handsome, and don’t even get me started on your heart. Anyway, money doesn’t matter when it comes to love.”
“You’re crazy,” he tells her as she gives Lulu a soft kiss on the forehead.
“You keep dating these cheap and easy bimbos who are more interested in what you can buy for them than they are in you, honey, and you deserve better than that.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans forward, resting one elbow on his knee. “What am I supposed to do? Just ask her out?”
“Yes, son. It’s that easy.”
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Is he really going to ask me out because his mom told him to? Does that mean he wants to, or is he being strong-armed by his bunny-loving red-haired mother?
I don’t want a pity date, not even from the hot, shirtless guy holding my baby.
I step backward, heading toward the bathroom, leaving Lulu with them for a moment while I try to pull myself together. When I get in front of the mirror, I look worse than I ever could’ve imagined. My normally tame locks are a hot mess and tangled, the little bit of mascara I managed to wear last night is smeared down my face, making me look like something straight out of a horror movie. On top of that, all the sleep I got last night did nothing to alleviate the bags under my eyes.
Quickly, I scrub my face, grab some toothpaste and use my finger as the brush, and try to pull myself together, making myself as presentable as possible. I am officially lame. I’ve done this routine before, but usually after a night of hot sex. Never after falling asleep because I was exhausted.
I grab the handle, ready to walk out in yesterday’s clothes and feeling worse than yesterday’s trash. As soon as the door opens, I come face-to-face with the half-naked hottie looking like someone straight out of the Magic Mike movie. Not only that, but I walk straight into his chest, unable to stop myself.
“Hi,” I squeak like a teenage girl with a crush as I gaze up into his eyes.
“Hey.” He smirks down at me, holding on to my arm.
I go dumb with the way he is looking at me. I stare at him without being able to form a thought or say a single word. How can I? The guy is more like a Greek god with his rippling muscles, perfect skin, haunting green eyes, and a smile that could make any girl, even a nun, have the dirtiest thoughts, leading to a stint in hell for sinning.
“Sleep okay?” he asks, still holding on to me.
I nod my reply, because words are too complicated with him being half naked. That’s the problem when you’ve been basically celibate for well over a year. Something as small as a shirtless man can make a girl, even me, stupid. If it were another man, maybe one with a dad bod, I probably could stammer out a response, but not with this hot hunk of man meat.
“Hungry?” he asks then, but I’m too busy staring at the ink on his chest to bother with a reply.
That song “Your Body is a Wonderland” had to have been written about a guy like Lucio. My fingers want to play now too. Skate around that fleshy amusement park, touching every inch, until I’ve explored each curve and splash of art across his body.
I don’t think I’ve been staring long, but when he touches my chin, bringing my eyes to his…I know he caught me. The smirk from a few moments ago is bigger and more devilish.
“Are. You. Hungry?” he asks the words again, but he is speaking each one slowly like I have trouble understanding the English language.
In all fairness, I am having trouble processing even the simplest questions. But in my defense, my girl parts are long overdue for a tune-up or at least a quick adjustment.
My lips fall open a little, just enough to draw his attention, and I’m thankful for a momentary reprieve from his watchful gaze. “Yes,” I finally say, trying to pull off a totally sexy, seductive voice, but I sound more like my aunt Maud, which, trust me, will never be hot.
He drops his hand from my face, and somehow, I don’t whine. But I want to… Oh, how I want to. “Ma’s making breakfast.”
“Where’s Lulu?” I ask, playing dumb and doing a bang-up job.
“My ma has her in the kitchen. I just wanted to wash up.” He turns around, giving me a full view of the mess Lulu left down his back, adding to her long list of victims. “Your little girl has quite the appetite.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Somehow, I manage to get the words out, but nothing about speaking is easy. His back is ju
st as magnificent as his front and on full display. Even with Lulu’s mess, the damn thing is a masterpiece.
“It was no trouble. Don’t be sorry. She’s a kid. They throw up. No big deal.”
I stare at the floor as he turns back around. I can’t look at him anymore and get more than a few words out. The carpet is a much safer focal point. “It’s so sweet that you fed her. You should’ve woken me up. She’s not your responsibility. I feel awful.” I finally look up because I realize I’m acting like a weirdo, and I’m more than a little embarrassed.
He shakes his head and holds up a hand, stopping me from the verbal diarrhea I’m in the middle of. “You were tired, and I enjoyed spending time with her. And besides, my ma is over the moon to have a baby in the house.”
“Oh.” I try to hide the excitement in my voice, but it’s impossible. On top of being hot as fuck, the guy says everything a single mother wants to hear. It’s like he fell out of the sky, landing straight in between my very available and needy legs.
Don’t be ridiculous.
This guy probably has a list of chicks he bangs on the regular. The old-school yellow pages probably have nothing on Lucio. What girl could honestly say no to him? He’s not even my type, but I’d drop to my knees and pray for salvation later.
“Why don’t we eat something, and then I’ll give you a ride?”
My eyes widen, and there’s no hiding right where my mind went. The blush creeping up my chest and scattering around my neck doesn’t help mask the way his words affect me either.
He smiles again, probably knowing exactly where my dirty-ass mind went. I can tell by the way his eyes sparkle he’s getting a kick out of my unease. “A ride home,” he adds.
“I’ll call a friend to come get us. There’s no need to put out.” I cough and pound on my chest because, again, I can’t seem to speak like a normal person around him. “I mean, I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure you’re a busy man.”
Fuck my life. Seriously. I’m in the presence of a hot guy, who held my daughter and stared at her with such adoration that I’ve gone all stupid.
“Spending a little time with two beautiful girls…” He steps back, his eyes traveling up my body and rumpled clothes. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my morning.”
I blink a few times, wondering if I heard him wrong because he seems a little too good to be true. Even his mother, the way she talked about Lulu, is like something right out of a weird, inner-city Brady Bunch episode.
I need to eat and get the hell out of here because this hot playboy won’t lead anywhere I need to go. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a ride or two, but in the end…all men disappoint, including this one.
4
Lucio
“This is so good.” Delilah moans softly before shoving the last piece of blueberry scone into her mouth. Crumbs fall from her lips and drop onto the plate, but she gathers them on her fingertip. “Your mom is an amazing cook. I’ve never had something so delicious.” She places her finger in her mouth, sucking the tip, and I’m a complete goner.
The semi-hard-on I’m sporting underneath the table suddenly becomes a huge issue. I can’t get comfortable, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than sex. I shift in my seat, trying to find a position to relieve the ache, but nothing helps. Just when I am about to start picturing something horrific to try to take care of the issue, my ma walks into the room, and all horniness I feel dies instantly.
“I’ll pack some up for you to take home,” Ma says, bouncing Lulu on her hip like she did with her own grandchildren when they were small.
Delilah’s face changes as soon as she hears the word home. Every ounce of pleasure and joy the scones brought her evaporates and dies in that second. Delilah pushes the plate forward, twisting her mouth before chewing on the inside of her lip.
I want to ask her what happened, why she was on the street so late at night, but it isn’t my business, and she isn’t mine to pry into her personal life or about her family.
I know all about complicated families. Hell, mine has never been a walk in the park or like any sitcom family I’ve ever watched on television. Maybe the Bundys from Married with Children, but our level of dysfunction sometimes far outweighs even their insanity.
Ma sets a bag of scones next to Delilah, and her eyes dip to the bag, noticing the bakery label as she reaches for them.
“My ma is an awful cook. Be thankful they weren’t hers.” I laugh and earn the evil eye from my mother. I duck just as she tries to smack me in the head.
“Your father has never complained,” Ma adds, as if his opinion matters the most. Just because my father’s taste buds are dead, doesn’t mean the rest of the world’s are too.
“Well, I better get going. I’m so sorry for intruding, but thank you for the great night’s sleep and breakfast,” Delilah says as she stands from the table and reaches for Lulu who was playing with the pearls around my mother’s neck.
My ma whispers something in Lulu’s ear before kissing her forehead and closing her eyes.
Delilah practically has to pry Lulu’s hands off my mother’s pearls. Ma laughs, eating up every moment of baby she can. “I’m so sorry,” Delilah keeps saying as if she thinks my mother is upset, even though Ma’s clearly enjoying the entire situation.
“Don’t apologize, dear. She’s precious,” my mother tells her and kisses Lulu one last time before Delilah is finally able to wrangle her away from my mother completely.
“She’s not usually so attached to people so quickly.”
“We’re lovable,” I tell her for some odd reason. “I mean, at least my mom and I are. The rest of the family… It’s debatable.”
Ma waves me away, but we both know it’s true. “Oh, be nice, Lucio.”
“How many siblings do you have?” Delilah asks as she rubs Lulu’s back in small, gentle circles.
“Well, three that I know about.”
Delilah’s beautiful face scrunches, and the smooth space between her perfectly shaped eyebrows wrinkles. “Know about?”
“Well, there could be a few I don’t know about. You never know what’s hiding in the branches of our family tree.”
This time, I’m not so lucky to avoid my mother’s smack to the side of the head. “Be respectful to your father.”
“Sorry, Ma,” I say, but I’m not.
My father was a world-class asshole back in the day. As he grew older, he slowed down, but I know for a fact that he had more than one side piece when I was a kid. I watched as he cheated and snuck around on my mother. I promised myself I’d be nothing like him when I grew up. So far, I’ve kept my word, but I haven’t settled down yet either.
“I like your mom,” Delilah says with her lips turned up in a big smile. Why women always like to see a mother put her son in his place, I’ll never know. But every single time it happens in mixed company, it always brings some laughs at my expense. But seeing Delilah’s face light up again is entirely worth the embarrassment.
“Betty’s a bit crazy.” I stand, avoiding the second shot that was headed my way for calling her by her first name. “You ready?” I ask Delilah as I reach out to fix the collar on Lulu’s dress.
“I can call a cab,” she says softly, watching my hands closely.
“I can’t allow you to do that. I’ll take you home. I won’t be able to relax until I know you’re safe.”
My ma stands behind Delilah and gives me a thumbs-up along with a goofy smile. In her head, she’s already planning our wedding day, and while I like Delilah, my ma seems to be getting ahead of herself.
Delilah bites her bottom lip as her cheeks turn a pale shade of pink. “It’s very kind of you to put yourself out in that way.”
“It’s not a bother.”
It’s not like it’s a hassle to spend a little extra time with a beautiful woman. Even if she has a baby, I still like her. There is something that draws me to her. Maybe it’s the sadness in her eyes and my always wanting to fix things that make
her more alluring.
“I already installed the car seat, so we’re ready to roll.”
“Oh,” she mutters, cocking her head to the side. “You have a car seat?”
“My nephew’s. Ma used to babysit, so she had one in the basement. I dug it out while you were sleeping.”
To a sophisticated woman who uses a car service to get around, we probably seem like a bunch of middle-class crazy people. Here, she spent the night above a South Side bar in a part of town very few people in her economic class even drive through for fear of losing their lives. My ma’s apartment is a decent size, but a complete throwback to the 1980s, complete with her love of plastic coverings on all the furniture. We are not her people, but Delilah didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
“If you’re ever in the area again, please drop in and say hello,” Ma tells Delilah as she gives her a hug.
“I’d love that, Betty.” Delilah smiles and wraps one arm around my mother with poor Lulu smashed in the middle.
I’d love that too…and that shocks the hell out of me.
Delilah lives on the North Side in one of the largest high-rise buildings on the lakefront. Swanky doesn’t even begin to describe the place or the neighborhood. There isn’t a beggar on the corner, hustling to sell water or some other small item to pay for their liquor later, like in my neighborhood. Everyone walking on the sidewalks is in a business suit or some variation.
“Thanks for the ride, Lucio. I really appreciate your help and kindness,” she says as she gathers Lulu from the back seat of my sister’s Jeep.
“It was my pleasure.”
I want to say something else, but I can’t. We barely spoke on the way to her place, or at least, not about anything substantial. I didn’t learn much about her in the thirty minutes it took to head up Lake Shore to her condo. We kept everything general, and I was okay with that. I didn’t want to pry and come off like an asshole. I knew she was already embarrassed about the phone call last night, and I didn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable with the entire situation than probably she already is.
