Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 113353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Did he fuck up?
“A mobile,” she whispered, getting to her feet. She took the last couple steps to bring her close and her eyes were suspiciously shiny.
What the fuck?
“I’ve never seen one like that,” she breathed.
Of course not, it was custom made. “Reilly said Dyna needs a mobile for above the crib to keep her from bein’ dumb like me.” She had been fucking with him, but knew he’d do anything to help Dyna’s development. “She’s been lookin’ online at all kinda baby shit and tryin’ to spend scratch I don’t fuckin’ have. Figured I’d stay a little late today and make one. Rev helped ‘cause he’s also good with weldin’ and cuttin’ metal.”
His blood began to rush as Jemma reached out and touched the aluminum mobile. He’d used the light, shiny metal to make the pendants that would hang above the crib and would catch Dyna’s eye and help her focus. He’d cut out decorative snowflakes, clouds, stars, and crescent moons.
Jemma spun it and the pieces clinked together lightly making a tinkling noise.
It wasn’t one of those battery-operated ones Reilly wanted him to get where the dangly things were made of cloth and it spun on its own, but it would have to do for now. Something was better than nothing. And maybe one day his daughter could use it for her daughter.
He struggled to swallow at that thought.
Sarah was someone’s daughter, too. What if the same thing happened to Dyna? She innocently flirted with a man, then got caught up in the moment, like he and Sarah had done, and she came home knocked up?
His nostrils flared and his jaws clenched.
He’d fucking kill the bastard.
He squeezed his eyes shut. The bastard was him.
“Hey,” Jemma whispered, her fingers sliding over his forearm, the one not holding the mobile.
He opened his eyes, took a deep breath and shook it off.
He could see some conflict in her expression and eyes, so he drew a blank mask over his own face.
After studying him for a few seconds, she asked, “How did you get so much detail?”
Thank fuck she hadn’t asked what he’d been thinking. She seemed to be getting pretty good at reading his moods, just like she was good with figuring out what bothered Dyna. She had a fucking gift.
He used her question to lighten the mood. “Good with my hands.”
She arched a dark eyebrow. “You’re a mechanic. I should hope so.”
“Wasn’t what I meant.”
“I know. But I’m choosing to ignore your inuendo.”
“You’re not ignorin’ it if you’re commentin’ on it.”
“Let’s pretend I didn’t.”
His grin drew one from her, too.
“Will you also build her a crib?”
He had thought about it but he wasn’t good with wood—of the tree type—and he was pretty damn sure a crib welded from scrap metal wouldn’t be safe. The yard behind the garage was full of metal, so that was all he had to work with. He sand-blasted off any paint on the stainless steel and cleaned it thoroughly before he made the mobile. He also made sure to smooth any sharp edges by sand-blasting the pieces after he cut them with the jigsaw. To test it, he drew every edge across his own skin to make sure it wouldn’t cut him.
He would also make sure to hang it high enough so Dyna couldn’t reach it and before she could, he’d take it down.
“No, but I’m gonna build her a changin’ table out of an old dresser from The Grove Inn. Ozzy brought it over to the shop, stripped and repainted it already. I’ll work on finishin’ it tomorrow after work. So...”
“So, you’ll be late again.”
“Yeah.”
“I guess it’s better you’re late because you’re making the shit your baby girl needs instead of going out and drinking and whoring it up, trying to avoid coming home.”
She still stood close and smelled so goddamn good. He dropped his head and stared down into her face. “Ain’t avoidin’ shit.”
“I know you aren’t. I...”
He waited, but after a few heartbeats, she still hadn’t finished. “You what?”
“It’s really not for me to say, but... I’m proud of you.”
Fuck.
He hadn’t expected that. Maybe he was doing something right. But he probably couldn’t have done as well without her.
“Jem,” he said softly, not sure what to say. But, fuck it, he needed to say something. He didn’t feel he could express his appreciation for her and what she was sacrificing for him well enough with only words.
She turned away, breaking their locked gaze, and quickly changed the subject. “She was a little fussy today, but seems to be better now, which is good news for you.” She gathered her cell phone and the tablet she read on, as well as her oversized bag or purse, or whatever the fuck it was.
She was leaving.
Fuck.
He didn’t want her to leave. Not because of Dyna, but because of him.