Page 32 of A Little Crush
“Who’s this little nugget?” Dodge asks, grabbing my glass and tossing back what’s left of my champagne.
Seriously, what is it with everyone stealing my drinks?
Jaxon shifts forward. “This is my daughter, Poppy.”
“Hey, Poppy.” Dodger’s smile softens as he sets the empty champagne flute down and leans closer to the baby in my arms. “She’s so small.”
“Yeah, only in the third percentile at her last appointment,” Jaxon returns.
“No shit?” Dodger’s brows kick up. “That’s tiny.”
“Yeah,” Jaxon mutters. Not in an angry way. It’s more like he’s…confused or dejected, though I don’t know why.
“You look cute holding a baby,” Dodger adds, pinning me with a knowing look there’s no way Jaxon buys. “Any chance you wanna pass her off to her dad so we can sneak in a dance before the toasts start?”
With a slow nod, I hand Jaxon his daughter. He takes her without hesitation.
“Thanks again for keeping an eye on her,” he says.
“Anytime.” Poppy reaches for the hanky on the table, but I stop her from putting it in her mouth. “Trust me, Pops. You don’t want to taste that.” Keeping it fisted in my hand, I pause and glance at Jax. “Do you want to take it, or I can wash it and give it back later or?—”
“Keep it,” he insists.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Dodger interrupts. He stands and offers his tatted hand, waiting for me to take it. Once I do, he tugs me to my feet, leads me to the dance floor, and spins me into his chest like a seasoned dancing professional. To be fair, I wouldn’t put it past him. With all the crazy things he’s done in his life, learning how to dance is pretty believable.
Laughing, I say, “My hero.”
“Professional cock blocker at your service,” he quips while slowly swaying us from side to side.
“Is that what you’re doing?” I challenge. “Cock blocking for me? ‘Cause I thought we were dancing.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know I just interrupted your little swoon fest over there.”
I roll my eyes, refusing to look at the table in question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let’s say you don’t,” he decides. “Because you might honestly be as innocent as most give you credit for.”
My lips purse. “Gee, thanks.”
“Nothing wrong with it,” he argues. “But let’s say it’s true, and you really haven’t noticed the way he looks at you.” He dips me over his arm, then pulls me back to a standing position, stealing the air from my lungs. “I have.”
“Seems you don’t know what you’re talking about, either,” I mutter.
“Nah.” He chuckles. “I’m much less innocent than you are, Squeaks. I know what want looks like.”
Want? As in Jax wants me? The idea is laughable at best, yet crippling in general.
With a slow shake of my head, I mutter, “He doesn’t want me.”
“Maybe not consciously,” Dodger concedes. “Not yet. But I wouldn’t write him off, either.”
The urge to sneak a glance at a certain someone with his daughter is strong, but I fight it and lift my chin a little higher, refusing to give in. “I think you’re being ridiculous, Dodger Anders.”
With a flick of his wrist, Dodger spins me around again, then pulls me into him. “And I think you underestimate your feminine wiles, Rory Buchanan.”
Feminine wiles, my ass.
