by Meg Maguire
Christ, why her though? Why did it have to be that woman? The look she’d shot Reece shortly before they left hurt way worse than plowing into an open taxi door at full speed.
The front door swung back in, admitting his sister and niece along with a waft of good-smelling autumn air. Colin tried to perk up or at least fake it convincingly. “Ladies.”
“Hey, Uncle Colin.” Annie waved the baby’s chubby hand at him from the car seat. “Where’s Mum? Is everything okay?”
“I’m working a double.” He held up his bandaged arm.
“Oh, Col, not again. You keep me up nights, you know.” She frowned, setting the baby down on the bar between them. She grabbed his wrist to take a look at the scrape that had stripped half the skin off his forearm, making no attempt to be gentle. “Oh God. What is wrong with you?”
“Got doored. Couldn’t be helped.”
“Jesus, that’s gross.” She let his arm go. “I’ll be happy when you finally give that ridiculous job up. I’d crack your skull myself if I didn’t reckon you’d manage to work around it.”
“I’ll bet you would.” Colin turned to his niece, wiggling away in her seat. “What brings you two by?”
“Thought I’d see if Mum wanted me to get her some lunch before I take this one to her checkup. What’s up with you, anyway? You look terrible and it’s not on account of your arm.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ve been staring at your mug for nearly thirty years. And you know…” Annie took Colin’s chin in her hand and swiveled it painfully from side to side. “I haven’t seen this particular sour face in about a decade.”
“Oh?” He pulled his head back and crossed his arms over his chest, challenging her smug airs of sisterly wisdom.
“Mmm-hmm. This is teenage Colin pouting over a girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day.”
“Oh come off it.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. Twenty-eight and you can’t handle a little snub?”
“I most certainly can, thanks very much. And I don’t pout…unlike some.” He launched into his finest Annie impression. “Oh, Colin, I can’t believe I slept with that lanky ginger bloke—”
She swatted him. “Shut up, you. Not in front of the baby.”
He unstrapped his niece and lifted her out, the pain of holding her against his bad arm wholly worth it. “Coleen, you don’t mind that your mummy and daddy had a sordid little one-nighter in the pub’s stock room, do you? No, you don’t. And then another one, and another, and then four years later they got married and had you? No, you don’t mind.”
“Knock it off. She’s very smart, you know. She can probably understand you.”
“I’ll give it a rest if you will.” He handed the baby over.
“Maybe. I saw Reece getting into the Laser with a certain mile-high blonde. Is that what’s wrong?”
“No, I’m all in favor of that,” Colin said, and it wasn’t a lie, at least not in spirit.
“Well, that’s good. The last thing this family needs is more complications.”
“Agreed.”
Annie frowned. “I’m surprised though, mind you. I didn’t get the impression Reece much cared for her.”
“She’s used to getting her way, that one.”
“Well, good luck to her. She’ll need it.”
Colin smirked. “Don’t try and tease Reece about it, incidentally.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” she replied, giving Colin a hard poke on his bandaged arm.
“Ow, Jesus.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, eh? And you better not be scowling then.”
He gave her a ludicrously cheerful smile until she’d turned away, refastening the baby’s straps.
“My best to Mark,” Colin said. “Tell him to tip you retroactively, by the way, for all the ‘exceptional service’ you used to give him when you were working.”
“Clever.”
“Yeah, well my foul mood’s got nothing to do with a girl,” he said. “We’re in goddamned trouble, you know. I got a call from another supplier this afternoon, threatening to cut us off. We’ve got no credit left with anyone in this town.”
“Reece said he’s got a plan.”
“I know all about his plan. It’s madness.”
“Reece doesn’t do ‘mad’. Give him the benefit of the doubt, why don’t you?”
Colin sighed, leaning into the bar. “He missed his own father passing away, Annie. So sue me if I’ve lost a little faith in his dependability.”
“You’re off-base, Col. And you know it.” Annie’s look told him she’d heard everything she cared to.
“Just don’t forget who’s been busting his arse for this family since long before the shit hit the fan.”
“Why are you saying this to me? Like I don’t know?” She shook her head. “This doesn’t even sound like you.” The door behind Annie jingled open, cutting the conversation short. “Hi, Graham,” she said to the arriving customer on her way out the door. “I’ll see you, Col.”
Colin slapped a smile on his face. “Gidday, Graham? Half a lager, is it?”
Chapter Nine
“Is this how you get your rocks off, then? Sitting on washing machines in innocent people’s basements?”
Colin had entered the laundry room with his niece propped on his arm, clearly surprised to have found Libby perched on the washer’s lid, perusing the instruction manual.
“It’s not broken, is it?” he asked.
“No, I just came all the way down and my clothes’ve still got a couple minutes left in the dryer. And this one’s not even on, incidentally.” She kicked the washer with her heel in defense of her spurious honor.
“If you say so.” He leaned in close to examine her face. “But you do have that certain dewy flush about you.”
Libby rolled her eyes and hopped down, remembering what Sara had said at karaoke. “Yes, I’m sure you’d know all about.”
Colin shrugged, nonchalant. “I have been given certain privileges by certain parties.”
“I’ll bet. And you know you have to put children in on the gentle cycle, right?” she said, eyeing the drooling infant.
“Would you take her, actually? I’ve got baby sick all down the front of my best jumper.”
Libby felt her eyes widen as Colin made to pass her his niece. “I don’t know how to hold a baby.”
“You’ve never held a baby? Crikey, what do they teach you Harvard? Nanny management? It’s the easiest thing in the world. Just pretend she’s a sack of flour.”
Libby reluctantly took the proffered bundle, holding her under the armpits like a grenade apt to explode at any moment. Colin tugged his soiled sweater off and tossed it in the washer. He studied Libby’s baby-handling technique and gave her a pitying look.
“You can take her back now,” she said, fighting a mounting panic.
Colin rearranged Libby’s arms so she held Coleen against her chest, propping the baby’s head on her shoulder and shifting Libby’s hand to cradle her little diapered backside. Libby sucked her breath in and held it.
Colin nodded his approval. “There, now you’re a vision of maternal competence.”
Her arms trembled. “Hurry up… I’m going to drop her or something.” Libby’s throat tightened and the buzz of the dryer timer made her yelp.
“You’re doing fine.” Colin tossed a measure of washing powder into the machine. After closing the lid he brushed past Libby and pulled her dry clothes out, piling them in the basket for her.
“Take the baby,” she pleaded.
“I’ll take your washing. I’d hate to interrupt the exemplary job you’re doing, there.” He grabbed the basket and made to head back upstairs until—
“Colin, stop! Take the baby!” Her voice was loud and hysterical, limbs trembling. Tears welled in her eyes and the baby began to fuss.
Colin’s own eyes widened. Once his niece was nestled back in his arms he looked Libby in the face. “God, you all r
ight?”
She shook her head, wanting to hide.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was just trying to tease you.” He slid her laundry toward her with his foot. “Go on, I’ll follow you up.”
Libby fumbled her way back up the two flights to the flat and began folding her small pile of clothes on the couch, eager to avoid Colin’s attention. She heard him behind her, walking to the car seat and murmuring to the baby as he set her down. His footsteps drew near, stopping just behind Libby.
“Hey.”
She didn’t turn but offered a cheerful, “Hey,” in return.
“Would you look at me?”
Obediently she turned and stared at Colin’s worried face.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine. I’m just not so good with babies, I guess.”
“You’re white as a sheet. Can I do anything?”
She shook her head but didn’t try to escape when Colin took a step closer, then another, and pulled her into a hug. His strong arms snaked around her middle, practically giving her no choice but to wrap hers around his neck. She felt her shoulders shake in surrender as a tearless, cathartic sob racked her body.
Colin’s breath heated the space behind her ear. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“’S’okay,” she choked back, already calming.
Warm, broad hands stroked her back and the soothing effect was instantaneous. She could smell him, that scent of shaving cream or soap already so familiar from all those nights spent camped out on the couch or seated across the bar from him. It was a strange sensation, having her body pressed against Colin’s. Any man’s touch should have felt foreign and unwelcome. Even Reece’s, though extremely pleasant, was new and intimidating. But not Colin. His body was just an extension of her own. Unlike his brother, there was no aura of self-possession hovering around Colin like invisible armor. Libby felt herself melting into him, his hard, strong frame feeling oddly like a feather pillow or a hot bath. She could have stayed in that hug for several more minutes quite happily, fascinated by her success in connecting with another person in such a genuine fashion. Then Colin pulled away, leaving her simultaneously warm and cold in the wake of the hug.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice already back to normal.
“Well, sure.” His eyebrow rose. “Are you afraid of babies?”
“No, not exactly. I’ve just never held one before. It was sort of freaky, I guess.”
“Well, don’t let it put you off them. They’re all right.”
“I’m sure they are. I’m sure she is,” Libby added, pointing to Colin’s niece wriggling in her seat. “Just not for me.”
“You say that now, but who knows—your days of holding my nieces and nephews may be far from over.”
“What do you mean? Are you looking to hire me as an au pair? Mind you, I wouldn’t turn down the residence visa.”
He smiled. “No, genius. I mean if your evil plan succeeds. You and Reece. Libby Nolan, matriarch of a fine brood of strapping Kiwi ankle-biters.”
Libby laughed. “Oh God, that’s a terrible thought! No, thank you.” Fumbling her way through a half-baked seduction with Reece was one thing, but the idea of having his children was quite another.
“No designs on my brother’s genetic materials, then?”
“I would not have your brother’s kid, although thank you very much for offering him up so freely. Oh God, no way.” Libby shook her head. “He’s so…he’s just too much like my father. And I’m not putting any kid of mine through that childhood, thanks. I’d sooner have yours—at least you’d be a fun dad.”
Colin didn’t seem to know precisely what to do with this statement. The corners of his mouth tucked down in a thoughtful frown, and he looked almost relieved when Coleen began to sputter and fuss, demanding his attention.
Libby watched him pick up the baby and sit with her on the couch, rubbing her tiny back much the same way he’d just done for Libby.
“Would you mind getting a bottle ready for me?” he asked over the baby’s unhappy noises. “They’re in the fridge, on the top shelf. Could you put one in the microwave on low for ninety seconds?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Libby was grateful for an assignment and a chance to collect herself in the kitchen.
She stared as the squat glass bottle pirouetted in the whirring microwave, contemplating what she was doing. Preparing food, which this baby’s mother had expressed from her own body to nourish it.
Dear God, what was Libby doing with her life? How was it possible that other people, people all around her, were busy creating other humans and forming families and dedicating their existences to making sure those tiny new lives were protected and nurtured? All Libby seemed destined to do was fast-talk her way into semi-paid research vacations and spend her evenings among similarly disengaged, gregarious strangers, singing other people’s pop songs.
Mercifully the timer dinged and snapped her out of this cloud of adult thought before she started getting downright philosophical.
“Is this warm enough?” she asked, walking through the living room and handing the bottle over.
“That’s perfect, ta.”
She watched with fascination as Colin fed his niece, his face going blank with contented boredom.
“God, she’s so tiny,” Libby murmured, wanting to voice a little of the awe she was experiencing. She didn’t suspect she could keep it all contained inside her body without risking another breakdown. Everything was altogether too poignant this morning.
“Tiny? You’re laughing, she’s huge,” Colin said. “You should have seen her when she was born. She’s a mammoth now.”
“Were you there, when she was born?”
“Hoo, was I ever. She turned up three weeks early while my brother-in-law was away in Aussie for his job. Guess who got to catch her.”
“Wow, really?”
“Well no, I’m exaggerating. The doctor did the actual catching, but she got handed off to me first. That is one blooming mad experience, watching someone give birth.” He made a shuddering noise. “Especially your sister.”
“I’ll bet.” Libby studied the scene with a new reverence. The baby was happy again, suckling away and gazing toward the window. “She’s got your eyes,” Libby said, looking at those big, blue-green irises. “If that’s possible.”
“Those are my dad’s eyes,” Colin said with a smile, fixing his own on Libby.
“You look a lot like him. At least in that photograph downstairs.”
He laughed. “I wish. Our dad was like the most dashing bloke in the neighborhood. Ask my mum about it sometime and she’ll chat your ear off. He was quite the charmer.”
“So, he got to meet his granddaughter, before he died, right?”
“Yeah. It’ll sound grim, but she was born in the same hospital that he was staying at, before he passed away.” Colin seemed to lose his enthusiasm for the conversation, voice turning heavy. “How’s that for convenient?”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right. Just sucks to remember it.”
Libby nodded.
“I guess it’s a good thing this one here decided to show up early. Those three extra weeks were happy ones.”
“That’s something.”
“Yeah.” Colin gazed down at his niece with amusement and then back up at Libby. “Mad what a little sex can do, isn’t it?”
“It is,” she agreed flatly. She excused herself before the tears could return.
“Stand up a minute,” Libby ordered.
Reece raised his eyebrows quizzically but obeyed. He stood before her at the side of his bed, the candle on the side table highlighting all the contours of his body.
She still wasn’t sure how she’d achieved this coup. They’d had a good afternoon, documenting. At moments Libby had almost been able to trick herself into believing it was a date. Then after a couple of drinks over a pub dinner they’d gone back to the flat, and she’d asked about third base. To her shock, Reece had shrugg
ed and said, “Yeah, okay then.” Willingness wasn’t as good as enthusiasm, but damn if she wasn’t going to take what she could get.
Presently she bit her lip. Reece looked amazing in his underwear. His briefs were gray with white piping, much sexier than boxers. Libby hoped he was enjoying seeing her in her panties and bra as much as she was enjoying this. Though if he was he hid it disappointingly well—Reece was a little too good at keeping these lessons platonic and instructional.
Libby pushed herself to the edge of the mattress and laid her hands on his stomach, fanning her fingers. She switched to kneeling so she could reach higher, racing her hands across his chest and shoulders and arms. Finally she cupped her hands over his hips, those firm ridges of muscle dipping down behind his underwear.
“Christ, do you have any fat on you?” she asked, absorbing the scene for a few final seconds. “Okay. You can lie back down now.”
He complied and she looked him over, nervous again. It’s just like jumping into a cold pool. Just do it.
“So…I can touch you?” she asked.
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
“It’s not too weird?”
“Since when are you Little Miss Second Guess?”
“I just…sometimes I’m being weirder than I realize. I didn’t want this to be one of those times.”
Reece smiled. “It’s weird. You’re weird. I’m weird for letting you do this. Who cares? It’s just you and me, here.”
“Okay. Good.” She glanced down, studying the bulge between his strong thighs. “Anything I should know?”
“I don’t think so. Just do what you feel like.”
Libby’s insecurity was showing and it made her feel unspeakably vulnerable. But this was Reece…
“I want to do a good job,” she admitted.
“It’s not a job.”
“Um, actually you’ll find it is called a hand-job, if you want to be technical.”
“Libby.”
“I just want to make you feel good, okay? I want do a good job. You need to give me instructions.”
“All right.”
She took a deep breath, unsure of how to even start. Reece spread his legs out in front of him and reclined against the pillows.
