Page 27 of Something Like Shelter

“Thank you so much for the rescue. I was freaking out.”

“I could tell.”

“You’re good with her. She never settles that fast for me.”

“There was a big burp in there,” he told me. “Must have been why she was so fussy.”

“Oh, she got you,” I said when he passed her to me, and I noticed the spit-up stain on his shoulder.

I reached for a cloth and started to rub at the spot before I could think better of it.

My gaze flicked up, finding him watching me with a soft look in his warm brown eyes that had my chest feeling tight.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotta wash it anyway. Did the call go well?”

“Yes, thanks to you. He’s a finicky client who was threatening to leave if he couldn’t work with me. I’m hoping my boss doesn’t take this as some sort of agreement for me to be back at work.”

“Yeah, he sounds like a real prince.”

“You have no idea. But I do like my job.”

“Ever consider starting your own business?”

“It’s an idea I’ve floated. One I probably would have pursued.”

“But?”

“But I can’t take huge financial risks like that with a baby to take care of.”

“That makes sense. You never know. Someday.”

“Exactly. I was thinking of ordering Chinese as a treat for getting through that call. Can I interest you? Or Tuna?” I asked the dog, who must have been told to stay because he hadn’t greeted me yet, just looked longingly from his seated position near the door.

“I could go for Chinese. And Tuna can sneak a few pieces from me.”

He told me his order, then made his way upstairs to get some work done while we waited.

I cuddled Adelaide as I looked over my notes from the call and answered texts from my family.

All the while, though, I felt a jittery sensation in my stomach at the idea of sharing a meal with Owen.

It felt suspiciously like butterflies.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Owen

I never would have picked up the baby if Willa hadn’t looked panic-stricken at the noises she was making while she, clearly, tried to handle some important work call.

My stomach had been in knots and my pulse going triple its normal speed as I lifted the tiny body off her mother’s legs and pressed her to my shoulder the way I’d seen Willa holding her.

I’d held babies in the past. But bigger ones. Sturdier. Less breakable. Never one so delicate.

It was terrifying how light she was. How was it possible for a whole (small) human to weigh so little?

But when her little head wiggled its way into my neck, I couldn’t help but rest my head down on her head with its downy-soft hair.

There was a warm, swelling sensation in my chest. Something like that feeling of rightness I’d felt several times in this house now.