Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Noble

L ibby curls up at my side with her sippy cup of milk. She picked at her dinner, but she was more interested in the orange. There's a story there. I'm just not sure what it is.

"I like this show," the little lady says, flicking at my T-shirt with her small fingers.

"Me too." I chuckle. "Who doesn't love superhero puppies?"

"Yeah." She stares at the television, entranced by the show.

I've got nieces and nephews.

Being around kids doesn't make me uncomfortable, but I'm also not used to hanging out with toddlers.

Normally, my sisters would be the ones to ensure any kids I'm around stay alive, but I like to think I'm winning at this whole babysitting thing.

Libby's a good kid.

She's easier to look after than my nieces and nephews, but that might be because there's only one of her.

It doesn't hurt that she's always happy to see me. It's a hell of a serotonin boost to run into her and her mom in the hall and see her smiling face as she tosses herself at my knees.

No one is ever that happy to run into me.

Not to mention, the way Brooklyn lights up when she spots me.

The poor woman can't catch a fucking break. Not that having another kid is a problem, but honestly, it seems like she's already got more on her plate than she can handle.

She's also what I would consider young to be a mom of two.

It's not unusual for omegas to have kids early in their twenties, but they almost always have a pack at their back to help financially and to split childcare.

Hell, all four of my sisters had kids by twenty-three, but they were also bonded.

I'm pushing thirty-two, which means I've got ten years on the little omega.

I've never put any real thought into having kids, but I guess I want a family one day.

It's something I should consider before I'm too old to enjoy them.

"I'm gonna play with my toys," Libby says, dropping her sippy cup right on my balls as she slides off the couch.

I grunt, grabbing the cup. "You're a dangerous creature."

She takes off. "I gotta go potty first!"

I put the cup on the coffee table and frown. I'm definitely not equipped to help with that.

"You know how to handle that on your own, right?" I ask, leaning my forearms on my knees.

Flipping on the light in the hall bathroom, she calls, "Yes, I can do it."

"Okay, good." Damn, maybe I am out of my depth with even simple babysitting.

The door stays open, but I keep my ass planted on the couch.

Libby is verbal.

She'll ask for help if she needs it…right?

Only a minute later, the toilet flushes and Libby runs out into the hall. "Noble! I have to wash my hands."

I'm a solid seventy percent sure that's what she said.

Shoving myself off the sofa, I aim to help her handle that.

Libby's brown curls bounce as she heads for her bedroom with freshly cleaned hands.

I shut off the water and chuckle when I spot the tiny set of stairs that lead to a toddler seat clipped onto the toilet.

That makes sense.

I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out how she got herself up there when the toilet is like half her height.

I'm barely back in the living room before Brooklyn's bedroom door pops open. Her hair is up in a huge, messy bun on the top of her head.

My gaze slides down her bare neck to barely covered shoulders. She's wearing a spaghetti-strap style dress or shirt-thing.

Hell if I know. I'm not an expert on women's clothing.

But damn, it shows off her curves in a way that has me licking my lips. There's a pair of sleep shorts under the top, but they barely fall halfway down her creamy thighs.

"Thank you for watching her, but, uh, where's my kid?" she asks with a silly smile crossing her face. Her head tilts toward the hallway, and she nods. "She likes to play before her bedtime story."

"She's a good kid." I wipe my hands off on my jeans because my hands are sweaty as fuck.

"Did she actually eat anything?"

"A few French fries and a chicken tender." I grin, shrugging. "But she demolished that orange. So, you're obviously doing something right."

Brooklyn's face drops, and I take a step forward, trying to determine what I said.

"Yeah, except that I got more focused on trying to get crumbs out of her car seat than about where she was in the parking lot earlier." She sighs, shaking her head as she stares at the ceiling. "She cried the entire way to the store because cracker crumbs were hurting her legs."

"And she ran off?" I ask, trying to put the pieces together.

"Right out in front of a car while chasing after that freaking orange." Her eyes clench shut, and her hand flies up, rubbing her forehead. "A good Samaritan stepped in, but it was my biggest parenting fuckup to date. I haven't even had time to process it, but it was bad."

Only a few feet of space separate us.

It takes two strides, and I'm directly in front of her. Her eyes pop open as I grab her hips, pulling her to my chest.

"You need a hug," I say, a little confused why I'm acting like I have the right to touch her. She doesn't push me away. In fact, she melts against my T-shirt. The baby belly is bigger than I realized, making it necessary for her to turn to the side a little. "It's one of those things that's scary, but you learn from it. What you can't do is beat yourself to hell about it."

"Really?" she scoffs.

"Yeah, pretty girl, really. " I run my hand up and down her back. "You weren't purposely neglectful. Being a parent is hard."

"Do you have kids?" she asks, tilting her face up to look at mine.

"No." I snort, leading her over to the couch. "But I am one of six kids. My moms had four alphas to share that workload with, and shit still happened."

I sit down and bring her to sit next to me.

She grunts, wiggling her hips from side to side. My hand cradles her backside to help her get comfortable.

I'm absolutely not feeling up my pregnant, single mom neighbor.

Not a bit.

Especially since I'm out here to do a job that she knows nothing about, but that definitely involves her.

"You have two moms?"

"I do." Trying to keep from planting my free hand on the baby belly, I clench my fists. A distraction from the way her top gapes at her breasts would also be welcome. "I grew up in a big pack."

"Is that why you're still single?" She rests her head on my shoulder. "Too much chaos when you were growing up, so now you like to keep your options open?"

"Keep my options open…" I chuckle, shaking my head. "I haven't been on a date in years."

She snorts. "Okay, casual hookups. Whatever, you get the point."

My head tilts as I realize she's likely seen some of my work associates coming and going. We do in-person status updates only to prevent a digital trail.

"Ahh, you've seen my coworkers," I say, teasing my hand down her back. "Are you stalking me?"

She sputters. "What? No, no way. I just pass your female visitors regularly."

"And you made assumptions." I laugh, trying to find a way to distract her. The last thing I need her focused on is my work. "Back to what happened with Libby. Let me tell you the story of how my moms left me and my brother at the park after our youngest sister was born. They got everyone rounded up and made it all the way home before they realized they lost us."

"Ohmigod," she whispers, slapping my stomach. "You're kidding…"

"Nah, not even a little. They finally remembered us when one of my dads asked where we were." I shake my head, smiling. "I was too young to remember much, but apparently, a couple of old ladies gave us their loaf of bread. We were feeding the ducks when my dad finally made it back."

"Your parents must have been losing their minds."

"I'm sure they were, but we survived. Parents make mistakes. It doesn't mean you're neglectful or a terrible mom. It's hard raising tiny humans."

"It really is," she says softly.

"And you're all on your own. That means you've got to give yourself some grace."

"It's not so easy to give grace when it comes down to life-or-death consequences." She sighs. "I really don't want to think about that right now. I'm probably keeping you. You can go."

"You're not keeping me from anything."

"Okay, then, tell me more about your family."

That's a pretty safe subject.

And, luckily, I can talk about my siblings all day.

It doesn't take long for Brooklyn to fall asleep on my chest. She's stunning with her dark lashes fanning over her lightly freckled cheeks as she sleeps with her mouth gently parted.

I'm sure she is worn out.

I snort as she softly snores, but it's so cute that I can't force myself to look away.

Not even when I start to feel like a creep.

A few minutes later, Libby comes running out. She frowns, tilts her head of dark waves, and points. "Mommy's sleeping?"

"She is," I agree in barely more than a whisper. "She's tired."

Libby's little nose wrinkles. "My bedtime story…"

I'm like a confused puppy as I try to decipher the rest of her sentence. I finally go with, "Grab your book. I'll read it to you. Do you sleep in diapers?"

"I'm a big girl," she says, planting her hands on her hips. "I wear Pull-Ups."

Aren't those the same thing?

They catch the pee…seems like the same thing to me, but I'm not about to have it out with a toddler over the differences between diapers and Pull-Ups.

I glance down at the sleeping Brooklyn. "Can you get yourself into that on your own?"

"What?"

"Can you put a Pull-Up on without help?"

"I can do it!" she shrieks a little too loudly.

With that, she turns around and bolts back to her bedroom.

It only takes another minute before she runs out with a blanket, a book, and a diaper—Pull-Up—whatever. She drops the blanket next to me with the small book and falls over as she tries to pull her underwear down.

I frown and toss out a hand.

She grabs it, holding herself up.

I look away while she does a lot of wiggling.

"I'm done," she declares, climbing up on my other side. She doesn't hesitate to snuggle up, with her face on my stomach, as she drops the book on my thigh.

Her small hand struggles to tug the blanket from under her butt, so I help.

Once she's cuddled up and comfy, she glances at me. "I'm ready."

I chuckle.

Damn, she's cute. She reminds me so much of Brooklyn that it's hard not to be fond of the kid.

Maybe I'm more prepared for a family of my own than I originally thought.

Too bad all of this is just a job.