Page 57 of Buckin' Around

“Ives, it’s alright, baby. Please stop crying. I’ll get this, I promise.” Spencer’s low tone echoes up the hallway. I stop short of the door.

Ivy releases another bloodcurdling scream, and Spencer curses.

A packet tears as a squeaking noise huffs.

I lean on the wall by his bedroom door and listen.

The tiles are cold on my socked feet, and I make to move. Inside the door, I find Spencer grappling to secure a diaper around little legs that are kicking up a storm. He releases the baby and reaches for the bag on the bed.

Ivy is putting up a fight as Spencer wipes her down once more and tries again with the diaper. When her little bottom is clean, his hand dives into the bag again. They must have gone out for supplies while I was gone.

Didn’t think I was gone that long . . .

A bottle of baby powder is in his grip. One-handed, he uses his teeth to twist the cap. With an overenthusiastic squeeze, he aims it at her bottom. White power explodes over the baby and the bed.

“Ah, fuck.”

I purse my lips and hold back the inappropriate giggle that wants out.

White powdery snow lines the tiles.

Spencer adjusts his footing, getting closer as he stoops down to powder Ivy again. His feet slip and he hisses.

His grip on the powder tightens, sending a plume of powder above him. It rains down, coating his hair, shoulders, clothes, and the floor.

I can’t help the giggle-snort that slips out.

“The hell?” Spencer turns. Too quickly.

Feet scrambling wildly over the powdery floor as his arms circle, he tries to stay upright. I step in, trying to stop him from falling backward. Large hands grip my arms and gravity wins out.

Spencer hits the tile on his back, pulling me down with him.

I land with a thud on top of him.

His face tightens as a wheeze rattles down his throat.

“Ah, shite. You eejit.” I roll off him and kneel on the powdery floor at his side.

I wait for him to take a breath.

His face reddens, his chest not moving. He’s winded.

“Breathe, Spencer.” My hand brushes his jaw.

He jerks, seemingly back to life as his eyes flick to my face.

“Christ, O’Malley. You almost damn well killed me.”

“Ialmost killedyou? That’s rich, coming from the man using me to break his bloody fall.”

A half smile tips up on one side of his mouth.

He grabs my arm and hauls me closer as that smile fades.

“Come down here. Wallow with me, will you?”

I don’t have the heart to say no, so I shift on my seat and lay next to him. He raises the powder bottle still in his hand. “Surprisingly dangerous, this stuff.”