Page 3 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
“Just sons, as far as I know,” I murmur.
When she reappears, I see her face for the first time. She’s flushed, but not just with the summer heat. She’s excited. And excitement looks really damn good on her.
“Jessa!”
We all turn to see Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes waving to her from their porch with wide, friendly smiles.
The woman we now know as Jessa sets a box down on the edge of the trunk and gives the old couple a wave. She jogs over to them, giving Mr. Wilkes a hearty handshake and Mrs. Wilkes a quick hug. I can’t hear their conversation, but I get the impression they’re meeting for the first time.
“All right, I’m bored.” Caleb sighs, plopping back down in his chair. “Anyone want another beer? Or am I supposed to finish this twelve-pack all by myself?”
I peer down at Marley, who is squirming unhappily, her bleary little eyes opening and closing. I guess nap time is over.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jessa’s box tilting over the lip of the trunk, about to topple. Instinctively, I jump to my feet, jostling the already grumpy baby. The box falls, Marley wails, Jessa and the Wilkeses turn, and suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “It’s okay, Marley. It’s okay.” I pat her back softly, but it’s like comforting a fire alarm. I turn to the guys. “Would someone go help her with that box?”
Caleb and Wolfie spring into action as Hayes leans across the brick ledge with an apologetic smile for the neighbors. “Sorry for the commotion, folks. Can we help you out?”
“Oh, that’s all right. It wasn’t fragile stuff. Don’t worry about it,” Jessa calls back, her voice clear and cordial.
But Caleb and Wolfie have already rescued that box and are now unpacking the car, which contains a few more boxes, another suitcase, a smaller bag, and a duffel bag.
“Really, it’s okay,” she says, trying to intercept Wolfie on his trajectory to the Wilkeses’ front porch. One look at him in the zone, and Jessa steps aside, her eyes wide and a timid smile on her lips. “Well, thanks, um . . .”
“Wolfie’s the scary one. That idiot’s Caleb,” Hayes says, waving off her concern. “Best to just let them do their thing. They’ve already got an assembly line going.”
And they do. Caleb stands near the car, pulling out boxes as Wolfie carries them an outside staircase that leads to a separate entrance on the second floor that Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes directed him to.
You’d better believe that I’d be right there with them if I didn’t have a screaming baby in my arms. Marley’s eyes are scrunched tightly closed, tears trailing down her pink cheeks.
I try rocking her. I try bouncing her.
Is she crying because she’s tired? Hungry? Scared? I never fucking know.
In the ear that isn’t already deaf, I hear Hayes making polite conversation.
“That’s my buddy Connor’s house.” He points in my direction. “He’s the normal one. I’m Hayes, by the way. Where are you coming from?”
“Oh, I’m Jessa. Nice to meet you. I’m from a couple hours east of here. Well, east is the lake. Southeast. I’m from Indiana.” She laughs, somehow pulling off awkward and sweet at the same time.
Unable to take my eyes off of her, I ask, “What brings you to Chicago?” Instantly, I regret drawing attention to myself.
Yes, let’s all look at the sad son of a bitch who has no idea how to calm his distraught baby.
I shift Marley’s weight in my arms, hoping a new position will help. It doesn’t.
I don’t even hear Jessa’s answer to my question, as much as I’d like to. While Jessa and Hayes make small talk as Wolfie and Caleb continue to unpack the trunk, I pace back and forth, trying to soothe Marley by gently patting her back and humming softly. I wish I knew what was wrong so I could fix it. She does this once in a while, and I’ve yet to figure it out.
“How old is she?”
I turn to see Jessa walking up the steps, a warm smile on her lips. She’s close enough now that I can fully take in her features—light blue eyes, long lashes, and dozens of pretty freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. The neighbor girl is cute as hell.
“Uh, two months,” I say, my tone harsher than I’d like it to be. Why the fuck am I nervous?
“The best months.” Jessa nods, clasping her hands in front of her heart.
There’s something so warm about this girl. It’s like it comes off her in waves. I have to step back to keep from sweating. But she follows me, her arms outstretched.
What the . . .
“May I?” she asks softly.
My gaze darts to Hayes, who offers me nothing but a useless shrug.
