Chapter 8

Eight

J ane

Great. This is all I need. My piece of junk car dying on me at the end of Henry’s driveway.

And here he comes, jogging up to rescue me. Oh brother.

At least he’s not looking smug about it. I hate guys who look smug when a woman is having car trouble.

I roll down the window. “I’m not sure what happened. It just…”

“No worries, I heard the whole thing. Pop the hood?”

I do as he says and wait in the driver’s seat while he does his thing. A few seconds later he instructs me to start it up.

I turn the key and it starts. I blow out the breath I’ve been holding.

Henry’s tanned, sinewy forearms take up all the space in my driver’s side window as he leans in to explain the problem.

“Fortunately, it’s a simple fix, but you’re gonna have to baby it. And I’m following you home.”

“That’s not necessary,” I say.

“It is if you don’t want to be stranded by the side of the road,” he replies.

“I have Triple-A,” I retort.

“Very smart. I have a truck full of tools and a tow rope. I’m following you, Jane.”

I’d be lying if I said his commanding tone didn’t turn me on. At this point, I’d be lying if I said any part of him wasn’t turning me on right now.

Dammit, what did I say just a minute ago? Jane, you are a badass, think-on-your-feet woman with a brain faster than a speeding bullet. You don’t have to lose your wits just because a hot guy fixes your car and demands to see you home.

You’re right, I tell my conscience. I don’t have to lose my marbles. But I can deliberately choose to set them aside in a little compartment and allow my lady bits to have some fun for once.

“What’s wrong?” His words interrupt my internal debate.

I turn and look at Henry, who’s smirking. It’s then that I realize I’ve just shifted in my seat because my undies are getting damp.

God, what is wrong with me?

“Nothing,” I say. “I’m just anxious to go pick up Sarah.”

“I’ll be right behind ya.”

The country way he talks sometimes would make me cringe if it were anyone else. When Henry talks, it works for me. Everything about him works for me.

Henry follows me to Rocket’s trailer. I’m hoping he’ll park down the road a little bit so nobody asks any questions, but he’s right on my tail the entire way. I wince when I hear his pickup truck door shut. He shouts when Jet steps out of the trailer, already with two beers in his hand.

He hands one to Henry, not even questioning what he’s doing here. Sarah bolts out of the trailer when she sees me but runs straight at Henry.

“Hey, state fair buddy,” he says. There’s no stopping the little demon when she wants to be picked up. When she motions for “up,” Henry glances at me questioningly. I nod my head and he picks her up. She chatters, mostly in gibberish, but knowing the noises she makes as I do, it sounds like she’s telling him all about the unicorn he gave her.

Rocket’s face is all questions when she sees Henry, and she finally levels me with her gaze when the guys step away to look under the hood of my car. Sarah goes with them, and I smile as I watch him point out and name things under the hood for her benefit.

“Oh my gosh, he is so into you,” Rocket says when I tell her the entire story of today as we lean against the railing of the deck. “I knew this would happen. I was hoping for it.”

I’m perplexed. “Excuse me. You knew?”

Rocket smirks. “He’s been talking nonstop about you since the two of you met at the state fair. When he told Jet he ran into you and offered you a job out of the blue yesterday, I knew it was fate.”

I shake my head at her and pick up Sarah’s car seat and diaper bag. As I head to my car, Henry sees me and immediately hands Sarah off to Jet, taking the bag and car seat off my hands. I have to stifle a laugh when it takes him a few minutes to lock the car seat into the base.

I thank Rocket for watching Sarah and then dig through my purse for money.

“Put that away. You’re my best friend—I won’t let you pay me.”

I must be more tired than I realized because her generosity nearly has me crying. “Babies are so much work, though. I…”

Rocket’s expression turns to concern as I crumple. I’m so tired. Hungry and tired. My eyes are leaking and I turn away from the men.

“Honey,” she says, hugging me. “It’s fine. No offense, but this is your first day ever working a job involving actual physical labor. It’s no wonder you’re exhausted. And by the way, she’s not a baby. She’s a 14-month-old who can walk and talk. Not well, but she’s amazing and I love every minute with her.”

I hug her goodbye and Jet hands me Sarah. While I’m buckling her in, I hear Rocket giving Henry some instructions, but I can’t hear it. I’m too tired to care.

Rocket waves goodbye to me once I’m buckled in and says, “Bring her over whenever you need a break or alone time. Any kind of alone time.”

She winks and I almost feel like hurling.

“Is everyone invested in my personal life or…,” I start.

Rocket and Jet together chant, “Yes. Yes, we are.”

Henry looks super pleased with himself. Once again, I want to call him out for being an ass, but I just can’t. He likes me and he won’t hide it. And he’s extremely pleased I like him back. It’s as simple as that.

When I arrive at home, I expect Henry to turn around and head back to his farm. Instead, he carries Sarah’s diaper bag inside for me.

I set my baby girl down on her play mat, but she’s already gunning for her building blocks and spreading them all over the rug and motioning for me to come and play with her. “Mama play!”

How can I say no to that face when I haven’t seen her all day? I grin and squat down on the floor. “Guess Mama will get a shower after I feed you and wear you out,” I say.

Henry squats down on the floor right in front of Sarah and she hands him the Q letter block. He considers it, then looks at her and says, “Are we making a castle or a beach house?”

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Letting you go take a shower?”

“But what about you?” I ask.

He comically sniffs his armpit. “I’m a dude who spends most of his days alone in a field. I’m used to being covered in grime from dawn ’til midnight. Go take a shower.”

I don’t take orders from men. Never have, never will. But this order, I’m on board with.

When I return from taking the most satisfying shower in a month—I’ve never worked so physically hard in my life apart from childbirth— Henry not only has Sarah strapped into her high chair and is feeding her cut up carrots, grapes, and noodles, but he even thought to find a bib.

I’m towel drying my hair and watching the scene from the hallway with a huge grin on my face. “What about the chicken and noodles, Sarah? You need your protein if you’re gonna grow tall and smart like your mama. You’ve already got her eyes. I’ll bet mama ate her protein.”

“Mama,” she repeats. “Shower.”

“Very good. Mama’s taking a shower.”

I step into the room just as the doorbell rings. I step forward, but Henry dashes for the door. “Wait,” I say. I don’t know why some irrational part of my brain thinks it could be an unwanted visitor. Don’t mince words with yourself, Jane. You’re worried it could be Carl.

He ignores my outburst and answers the door, then returns to the kitchen with two bags in hand. “You said you liked Chinese. I wasn’t sure what, specifically, so I got a variety.”

I watch in wide-eyed fascination at the sheer competency of this man.

“Can she have udon noodles?” he asks.

I stammer, “Uh, sure.” My mommy muscle memory propels me into the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, fetch drinks, and dish out a plate of noodles for Sarah, but Henry is two steps ahead of me. He’s already got the table set and is preparing a plate for my little one.

Should I be worried that he’s been going through my cabinets? I take a moment to assess my feelings. Nothing about him pulling out plates, napkins, and glasses makes me nervous or territorial. It feels normal and natural. And I did tell him to make himself at home.

Just like the day we met him at the fair, Sarah is eating like a horse on his watch. Henry already cut up the udon noodles into small bites and is encouraging her as she grabs them and shoves them into her mouth.

“What a champ! High five, little partner!”

Sarah, who recognizes the phrase, reaches her hand up high and slaps Henry’s hand. On the follow-through, sauce splatters on his face.

“Oops, you got me!” he says, laughing.

Sarah giggles. The cuteness between them wakes up my ovaries.

I continue to watch quietly as the two of them play with their food while I eat my fried rice in peace. It’s been so long since I’ve had a hot meal and been able to eat that hot meal without interruption, I want to cry.

I don’t care if he’s my boss. I don’t care if we’re just friends.

As soon as Sarah’s asleep tonight, this man is getting kissed again—this time with tongue.