Page 176 of Jace
She coos, wiping his little mouth. “Full, burped, and asleep.”
Wordlessly, we have a routine. When she’s done feeding Ansel, it’s dad time. Cradling him, she stands and helps me wedge his little body, so cute in his newborn pajamas, into the front pouch of my dark-gray shirt.
“What isthat?” Ruby marvels at my apparel, impressed.
“A Dad Shirt,” I answer, lifting the pouch to cradle his downy head in a lion-eared beanie. “It’s a form-fitting shirt with a pouch up front.”
“Oh my god.” Ruby palms Vivian’s shoulder. “Where were those when Lyona was born?”
Vivian laughs. “It’s genius, right?” She beams up at me, caressing my abs before craning her lips for a kiss. Of course, my queen gets one. “And he looks so hot.” She makes me proud, telling Ruby, “It’s like Jace is a giant, sexy, kangaroo dad covered in ink.” Then she whispers to me, “You aresogetting laid tonight, big guy.”
“No rush, Smokeshow,” I whisper back, knowing the doctor’s orders.
Sure, my cock’s ready like a giant missile for her. It always is. I yearn to love her.
But it’s only been seven weeks, and we all know my history of being willing to wait forever for Vivian.
“I got one for Nash and Nyx too. He looks so Daddy in it.” Vale points at him, standing by Axel. Guess their newborn daughter is so tiny and Nash is so big, wearing his black Dad Shirt, Ruby hardly noticed.
“That’s it.” Ruby throws her hands up. “Next baby we have, Axel’s getting a Dad Shirt.”
“I got three,” I boast.
“They’re on every future baby registry.” Mom cuddles on Roman’s lap, lounging in the circle of chairs. “I’ve already ordered two in army green for Loch.”
Mom and Roman look way too content, and I’m happy for them. But the fuck if I’m ever calling him Dad.
“Viv!” A woman’s voice grated with nerves nears. I glance up, and it’s Harlow in a rage, striding our way. Even on the weekend, she’s wearing a white business jacket. Mind you, it’s paired with jeans, heels, and a lace top underneath, but Viv’s best friend is always wound tight and ready for war.
“I’m so sorry.” She rushes to Vivian and gently grabs her hands. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m so glad you and Ansel were able to get some fresh air.” She nods toward Nadine and the others. “This was a lovely day. Truly.” She hisses, “But I can’t take another second ofthatman. He’s slicker than owl shit, and smells even worse.”
Thatman?
I glance across the outdoor area, over to the silver silo where Wilder’s leaning against his hog. Sunglasses on. Booted ankles crossed. Toothpick twirling in his big smirk. And he’s doing that thing—twiddling his fingers at Harlow—seems to make every pussy hiss.
“Love you. Call you later.” Harlow pecks Vivian’s cheek, then sashays toward the parking lot. That swing in her ass? It’s telling Wilder to kiss it.
“What’s going on with them?” Ruby wonders.
Vivian sighs. “You know how they say opposites attract?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, those opposites? They attack.”
Ruby grins. “Sounds hot; I should know.”
“Yeah, a hot mess, trust me.” Vivan rests a burp cloth on my shoulder, fussing with it. I try to steal another kiss from her, but she turns away, glancing over her shoulder.
I chuckle. “Hey, care to give your husband a little lip lock?”
“Yeah, uh…” She keeps her eyes on the barn house, the brewery’s main building.
“Wanna go inside for the competition?” I ask. “See who entered?”
“Nope.” Nervously, she whips around, smiling at me. “Nope, let’s stay here. It’s too crowded in there, and Wren and Delphine are bringing us snacks, and I’m fine with my lemonade and?—”
“Viv.” I laugh, softly bouncing with our baby. “Woman, you got a bee in your britches. What’s wrong?”
