Motioning toward the bottle, I explain. “That’s frozen breast milk I thawed yesterday. We have a few more days’ worth, but I’ve already started transitioning her to whole milk.” My voice falls to a whisper.
He nods solemnly, and I know he understands where the milk came from now. At first I feel guilty for laughing about it, but before I can fully freak out, I realize Mel would’ve thought it was hysterical too. She’d probably remind him about it for the next twenty years.
Realizing I have two coffees in my hand, I pour some cream into one and hand him his cup. He takes it gratefully. As he lifts it to his mouth, he pauses, looks in his mug and then back at me. “You made it for me.”
“Well, yeah. You take it with cream, right? Why would I hand you a cup of black coffee?” I tilt my head and look up at him. He has the strangest expression. “Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and place my hand on his forehead.
Mistake. Big mistake.
This close, I can smell his body wash or cologne or whatever it is that’s making my pulse riot. This close, I realize I come up to his chin, which is chiseled and scruffy and ridiculously rugged. This close, I realize just how lethally good-looking he is.
I yank my hand back, but before I can take a step away, my eyes lift to his mouth. His lips are parted, and he sucks in a breath. The urge to kiss him is so strong, my whole body throbs. His green eyes darken as he stares at my lips, and just when I think I’m going to spontaneously combust, the sound of a falling bowl makes us both jump. I turn to find that Isabella has tossed her baby food all over the floor.
Thank God for small mercies. I was two seconds from embarrassing myself. Seriously, what’s wrong with me?
I grab some washcloths and wipe down the mess. “Sorry about last night,” I blurt before I chicken out.
“For what? You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says gruffly. “I’m sorry I upset you. Here you are, working your ass off, and I hurt your feelings.”
I peek at him over my shoulder. He’s standing in front of the sink, bracing himself on the counter. His head is bent.
“Really. I’m fine. I got a good night’s sleep and feel better this morning.” Not true, but he doesn’t need to know that. I stand up to face him. “We’re cool. I promise.”
He turns around, his eyes soft.
Reaching for the baby, I brush her bangs out of her face. “I’ll do what I can to set you guys up so when you’re flying solo you don’t crash and burn.”
He gives me a sad smile.
I motion toward Izzy’s bottle with a grin. “And I promise not to let you drink breast milk again.”
He grimaces but then a genuine smile breaks through. “That would be much appreciated.”
Desperate for something mundane to talk about to lighten the mood, my eyes land on the three bins along the opposite wall.
“Mm, before I forget, we recycle.” I point to the back of the kitchen. “I’ve color-coded and labeled everything, so even a Neanderthal can figure it out. I drop off the blue one at the recycling center every week. And we also have more green bins outside for leaves and tree limbs. But really, I’d love to learn how to compost.” Those last words come out slowly as I notice the expression on Brady’s face that’s etched in hard lines.
He arches a brow. “Are you calling me a Neanderthal? You know, just because I ride a motorcycle and sport some ink doesn’t mean I’m missing a frontal lobe.” His deep voice rumbles through me.
“What?” My eyes bulge. “No. God, no. I just... I mean... I’m so sorry if that’s what you thought I was saying. I would never think that. Ever.”
His deadly-serious expression suddenly morphs into a smile. “I’m kidding. But that was for letting me drink breast milk.”
I stare at him, my jaw slack. “Not. Funny.”
He laughs, pointing at me. “You should’ve seen your face.”
Pressing my hand to my chest, I will my heart to slow down. Calmate. “Okay, haha. Hysterical.”
That’s when I study his beaming smile. The way his eyes crinkle with amusement. That unfiltered laugh.
Holy smokes. That dimple.
Trapped by his gaze, I smile back like an idiot until the awkward silence is noticeable. Speak, Katherine. Say something. “So, um, I need to head to the grocery store to get a few things for Bella. My car is out of commission, and Mel always let me borrow her truck. Would it be okay if I use it?”
His expression turns serious again. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know, but I thought I should ask.”
“Kat, you’ve lived here longer than I have. You don’t need my permission to borrow Melissa’s car.” He rubs his neck. “What’s wrong with yours?”
I grab my coffee and take a sip. “Not sure. I hadn’t driven it in a while, and it barely got me to the farm when it died. I’ve been saving up to get it repaired.” I cringe, hating how it makes me feel like a kid when we had two cars but neither of them worked.
“Where are your keys?” I stare back at him, and he tilts his head forward. “So I can take a look at it.”
Oh. “That would be really awesome. If you can fix it, I will totally pay you.”