Page 18 of This Baby Business
“You took her to the park. She loves it there.” Levi didn’t take the phone from me, but instead held my wrist and brought the phone up closer.
My stupid wrist tingled as if it thought it might be about to have a good time. I cleared my throat. “I know. Just look at this one. I think she noticed a cloud for the first time.”
He grinned, still holding my wrist. “Nah, she saw one last week.”
“Right. So…is it okay if I put her photos up? She’s an adorable baby.”
“Fine with me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll never share her real name with my readers. And no one has any idea that the company is based in Fortune. My mother took great precautions to protect our privacy.”
“I trust you.” His big, rough hand slid from my wrist to my elbow, and the tingle traveled.
“Thank you.” I stared at his lips, willing him to kiss me. “The trust is…important.”
“Extremely.”
That talented hand now settled on my waist and pulled me closer. Somehow my hands were squeezing his biceps and I went up on the balls of my feet to get closer still. He kissed me long and deep, his hot, wet tongue insistent. It got wild and crazy as my hands fisted his shirt and his hands palmed my behind.
“Levi.” I broke off from the kiss, breathless. “We probably shouldn’t do this. It’s not…a good idea.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re right.”
Great. He agreed with her. “It’s not smart.”
“Yeah.” He tugged me in tighter and kissed me again. And again.
I threaded my fingers through his hair and moaned into his mouth.
And we continued to be crazy stupid for the next hour.
CHAPTER8
Carly
Afew days later,the blog post with the photos of the outfit I created went viral.
It had been reblogged over a thousand times. Someone, possibly one of my readers, had created a Pinterest board she named Fashionista Baby. The hashtag #fashionistababy was trending, with mothers posting photos of their own favorite baby outfits. All wanted to know where they might find similar clothes to the one I had made.
Patsy, my mother’s accountant, phoned to tell me that whatever I’d been doing, I should keep it up. We’d received renewed interest from some of our lost sponsors. Companies were calling and asking questions. I didn’t think it wouldn’t be long now. We’d get an offer, I would sell the company and Daddy would have the money he needed for the extensive physical therapy ahead of him. And I would finally find…something to do with the rest of my life.
Definitely not this baby business.
While Grace took a nap, I finished my latest blog post—How to Handle a Teething Baby—then dialed my father to give him the good news. This time Kirk gladly handed him the phone.
“Hi, Daddy. How’s the hip?”
“Still hurts like hell, honey. But that’s hardly your problem. These physical therapists out here don’t know anything.”
“Are you doing your exercises?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s like I told my PT guy—I spent half my life on my feet. Climbing, lifting. Never had a fall or a broken bone. Not one. Come out east to visit with Kirk, and a piece of ice does me in. But now that I have a new hip, those people won’t let me take it easy for a minute. I tell them to let me rest the hip but no one listens to me. I’m just an old man, so what the hell do I know?”
Dad was a retired PG&E lineman and had worked physically hard all his life. At sixty-five, he didn’t like anyone telling him how to spend his time. When he’d once been asked what he’d planned to do in his retirement, Daddy said he had plans to surf. From his couch.
“Well, I’m glad I called because I’ve got great news,” I said.
“Could always use some of that.”
