Page 40 of Buckin' Around

I swallow down a breath, my throat constricted.

The domesticity of that one interaction. My chest is too heavy.

Ivy squirms.

His hand falls to her back, making a small circle.

I drag my gaze from him to the food in front of me on the counter.

“Never mind. Let’s eat first.”

Low blood sugar can distort a woman’s vision... That must be it.

I loathe this man. His self-absorbed tendencies are everything I detest. I’m here for Ivy.

I bring my supper to the table and test Ivy’s milk on my wrist. I take one end of the table, leaving my chair back far enough that I can feed Ivy with one hand while I eat with the other. Some of us have study to knock out tonight. I’m trying to time block my domestic tasks and my study sessions and classes.

How else will I make it?

Spencer comes to stand at my side. I look up and reach for Ivy.

His brows drop.

Mine rise.

It’s the first sign of worry I’ve seen from him. Even when Ivy and I went missing for a few hours, he was more angry than worried.

“I can feed her. You eat.”

“No, it’s my job. Give her here.”

“Riley . . .”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Spencer.”

With a small chuckle, he hands her down and into my arms. “Suit yourself.”

I roll my eyes at him, and Ivy’s eyes are open, her fist in her mouth. Prying little fingers from gums, I slide the teat into her mouth, and she sucks, drinking her dinner down in big gulps. When she slows and her eyes start to drift closed, I pluck up my fork and start eating my own food.

Spencer pads toward his master suite, tugging his shirt over his head as he goes. His broad, muscular, bare back is all I see before he disappears into his room.

Here’s to another long night.

The blur of 6:10 on my phone glares up at me.

I let my eyes drift closed. The slight burn as I do tells me all I need to know about the amount of sleep I didn’t get.

Friday morning, and I’ve had exactly two hours and twenty-two minutes sleep. Thank fecking hell it’s Friday.

Rummaging from the room next door roused me, and now I’m wide awake.

Great.

I rub my hands over my face, loosing a long, shallow groan. Careful not to wake Ivy, I climb out of bed and right my twisted pajamas. Her soft breathing fills the silence.

The noises from the room next door have stopped.

I tap my phone and glance at the time, double-checking.