Page 26 of Something Like Shelter

There was only a second of awkwardness before we fell into old rhythms. But we only made it about halfway through the call when Adelaide started to fuss and wiggle.

I jiggled the bassinet.

I gave her a pacifier.

To no avail.

Careful not to show her, I reached for her and placed her on my lap, trying to soothe her with movement and touch.

But she was getting louder by the moment.

It wouldn’t be long before she went red-faced and let out ear-piercing shrieks.

Panic started to flood my system, making me start to sweat through my clothes and my heart slam against my ribcage.

Just when I was going to have to say something to Dave—which, if my boss was going to review this call, would be devastating—the front door opened and Owen strode in.

He paused, seeing me.

And within two seconds, he put it all together. The clothes, the laptop, the upset baby, the panic on my face.

Another second later, the tools in his hands were on the floor and he was striding across the living room and reaching for the baby.

“Is that Mister Willa’s arm I see?” Dave asked, making Owen’s gaze slide to mine as he pressed Adelaide to his shoulder like he’d seen me do a dozen times.

“Sorry. Slight interruption,” I said, plastering a smile I didn’t feel on my face. “Let’s talk about where you want to invest your money instead.”

Owen quietly moved through the room and into the foyer, his hand rubbing up and down Adelaide’s back, the movement and the press of his body calming her immediately.

As I jotted down notes for Dave, my gaze kept sliding across my house to where Owen was holding my baby.

I wasn’t prepared for the way my heart felt like it swelled to twice its size watching the tiny pink-clad baby against his massive shoulder, her little face tucked in by his neck. At one point, he leaned his head, pressing his cheek against her before catching himself.

There was something almost absurdly tender about it.

Owen was all broad shoulders and work-hardened hands, the kind of man who looked like he belonged carrying lumber rather than a ten-pound baby in a pink sleeper. Yet he held her with such effortless care that something inside me went soft.

And it wasn’t just that he had helped me.

It was the fact that he’d seen me struggling and hadn’t waited for me to ask. He hadn’t given me a wince. Hadn’t stood there awkwardly, wondering whether he should intervene. He’d simply stepped in and taken charge.

That was the part that got me.

I was so used to being the person who handled everything herself that having someone notice I needed help before I had to admit it felt dangerously good.

I tore my gaze away and gave my client my full attention.

“Perfect,” I said, forcing myself to focus on Dave. “I can get things switched over by tomorrow. Then you can keep making money while keeping your conscience clear.”

“Great. Glad to hear it! Thanks for coming back from your vacation to handle this for me. I knew I could trust you.”

We said our goodbyes, and I clapped my laptop lid shut and let out a loud sigh.

“Vacation, huh?” Owen asked as he walked back into the room.

“I’m assuming my boss refuses to tell my clients that I’m on maternity leave. They’re still pretty backward over there.”

“Pathetic,” he said, shaking his head.