14. I’m On Fire

I rinse Tucker's shirt out good at the sink, then it tumbles in the dryer while he showers.

Down the hall.

His muscular body under my shower head in my bathroom.

Water likely sluicing down his chest and his six-pack.

And I should stop the fantasy right there before I figure out a way to join him while keeping an eye on Remy.

At least Tucker's sweats didn't get any of Remy's vomit on him. All I'll have to deal with when he gets out of the bathroom is seeing his bare chest?—

"Holy hell." I freeze as Tucker approaches me in the kitchen with nothing but a towel wrapped dangerously low around his trim waist.

"What?" He asks, so nonchalantly as if it's perfectly normal to walk around like this here. I take full advantage, raking my eyes down his chest and torso, following right down his happy trail.

"You're practically naked." Hello, 9-1-1 Emergency? I'm on fire.

I peek over the island at Remy, sitting only in a new diaper. He's absorbed in a new car toy Brad gave him earlier this week, as he's still trying to find something to replace the balls. Cars might do the trick, as the kid has no idea his father stands before me, tempting me to do naughty things to him.

"I like to air dry, but I have a towel on. Besides, you've seen me before, or have you forgotten?" He lifts a corner of his lips with a smoldering gaze.

I have seen him, and thought about that night for so long. This view of him, with beads of water formed on this chest and abs only deepens my desire.

"Where are your glasses? I just needed some water or something to drink. I work out and sweat so hard during practice and games, I die of thirst afterward," he says.

I move, pointing to the cabinet behind me, then swallow, eyeing his back muscles lengthen as he reaches for a glass. If I could put an ice cube up to my forehead to cool me down, I would.

"There's filtered water in the fridge," I instruct with a husky voice, and quickly remove myself from the kitchen, trying to calm my body down. I have at least two hours of study time with the group tonight and now I won't be able to concentrate.

"By the way, I know where you get that lemony fresh scent from. That pretty bottle of soap in the shower from Paris, right?"

"Did you use it?" I ask, surprised he noticed. He's found the one little luxury I buy myself from time to time.

"Maybe a little. I'll buy you another." Sheepishly, he brings his muscled forearm to his nose and takes a whiff. He heads back to the bathroom with the glass filled. "Ah. Now I'll smell you on me all night."

I gape after him. But I don't have time for this, and set to work typing up quick instructions for how to care for Remy this evening and printing them out, adding them to the binder I made for when Marie babysits. Second guessing my decision to leave Remy with Tucker as I pack my bag, he finally exits the bathroom in sweats, shirtless.

"Oh good, you're done. I need to dash and get to the study group on time." I shove the binder into his hands. While I flip through the pages, explaining everything, his eyes gloss over.

"Yes, mama bear," he salutes me and winks when I finish. "Dada bear reporting for duty."

He can be so goofy, even though it breaks my tension a little. Maybe he can handle this. I chuckle but cock my head at him. "Okay. I already set out a little book that you could read to him and then his jammies are here."

"That's all right. I brought a week's worth of Puckers shirts for him, in various colors of red, white, and blue." He takes another out of his bag, this one in red, and pulls it on over Remy's head, proudly grinning. "There. Because your my little pucker every day of the week."

Seven of these shirts in Remy's dresser will mortify Brad.

"Don't worry, Whitney, I got this. Just take your time and study hard. I mean, what can go wrong?" He asks, his question scaring the hell out of me because a lot could go wrong. But Remy is a pretty calm baby to care for. I'm sure I have nothing to worry about.

He picks up our son, holding him on his hip. The two of them look at each other, and seeing them together like this, my heart squeezes—Remy looks more like him than me. Adorable.

"Say bye-bye to Mama." Tucker waves and Remy follows suit. "Mama has things to do and to accomplish, and we're behind her one hundred percent, right, little dude?"

These two are killing me with how sweet they are right now, and it takes everything in me to leave out the door. Especially since Remy hugs Tucker and doesn't even cry as I leave, like he does with Brad or Marie. What does that say?

Does he have an instinct for his dad, knowing they share DNA? For so long, this is what I wished for—a father for Remy, a family bigger than just Brad and I. Now that my wish has come true, I think I'm in shock.