Page 27 of Property of Riptide
“He’s still asleep. I was just about to wake him up, change his diaper, get him dressed, then make his milk,” I answer.
“Is his bag ready to go?” he queries.
“Yes, but I still need to grab him some pouches and pack them into his travel lunchbox. I put ice packs in it to keep them cool so they don’t go bad and I still need to prepare it as well as his juice plus milk for the day.”
“Do you have clothes laid out for him, Van?”
I shake my head and advise, “They’re hanging in the laundry room. I washed them last night before we went to bed. You should see the outfit Issy found for him to wear. He even has soft bottom boots to complete the ensemble.”
“I can wake him up and change his butt if you want to grab that and bring it to me,” Riptide offers.
“Are you sure? It won’t take me long to get him and his bag ready,” I state, chewing on my bottom lip.
“It’d be easier if we divided and conquered the tasks, Van. I can handle getting him ready,” he insists.
Joking, I ask, “Have you ever changed a baby before, Riptide?”
“It’s been a few years, but I have. Us older kids used to help with the younger ones growing up. Things couldn’t have changed too much since then,” he scoffs. “The tabs still go on the front and not the back, right?”
“Right,” I drawl out, wishing I had a monitor with a camera to watch this unfold. “They do. Let me get you set up and then I’ll grab his clothes.”
Glancing at Riptide out of the side of my eye as we drive toward the compound, I can’t help but break out into snickers.
“Wasn’t that funny, Van,” he chides, playfully glaring at me.
“If you say so,” I sing song.
“It was a learning curve, one I won’t take lightly and will be prepared for next time,” he conveys.
“How are your taste buds?” I ask, taunting him.
“Minty fresh, after I brushed the taste of urine out of my mouth,” he grumbles. “He’s a quick draw.”
“Which is why I handed you the teepee to place over him,” I remind him. “His aim is questionable sometimes.”
“No, I have to say his aim is true and accurate,” Riptide argues. That statement sets off another round of hysterical giggles for me. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Never,” I titter. “I’ve never seen a man run so fast with a baby held up high in the air as he gagged. It took me a minute to figure out what happened since you wouldn’t talk.”
“I was afraid if I did I’d swallow,” he confesses.
“Oh fuck,” I say, clutching my stomach. “Stop talking, it hurts.”
“Maybe if you didn’t find the whole ordeal hilarious, it wouldn’t hurt so much,” he berates. “As my woman, you should’ve been commiserating with me.”
Those three words have my heart stuttering. My mind can’t help but want clarification. Does he really mean it or was it a slip of the tongue? “Your woman?”
“Yeah, baby. My woman,” he confirms, reaching over the console and lacing his fingers with mine. “You’re feeling this thing between us too, right?”
“I am!” I more or less shout. “I am, Riptide. It’s just, it’s the first time you’ve said that out loud.”
“I’m more of an action man, Van. I show my feelings more than I say them. Are you going to be alright with that?”
“Yes,” I admit, bobbing my head. “Like you, I’m a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. Will it be nice to hear from time to time? Absolutely, but I don’t need you to spend every minute of the day professing your feelings.”
“One day, when we’re both ready, I’m going to put my patch on you, Van.”
“What does that mean, Riptide? Newbie here, remember. I’m still learning the lingo, mannerisms, and status quo behind things the club does.”
