Page 8 of The Baby Clause
“How’s he doing, head swiveling around on his neck yet?”
“Not quite, but close… Actually, I need to get back there soon. The weather’s closing in again.” The wind was picking up, whipping my hair into my face. It was times like this that I thought of cutting it short. But I’d never been one of those guys who were more groomed than a show pony. Let’s face it, I just couldn’t be bothered. It was too much effort, and I wasn’t a morning person. As was repeatedly pointed out to me by every deputy in the station, which was why there was always a very large, very strong coffee waiting for me when I arrived for work each morning.
“Here you’re going to need this, and I dug this out, too. Oh, and here’s something else you’ll be needing.” The largest box of condoms I’d ever seen was unceremoniously thrust into my hand, fighting the heat that fast spread across my face was useless. She was a witch, had to be. Otherwise, how else did she know about my wayward thoughts where Jere was concerned? The snow was coming down harder now, filling the tracks my truck had made.
“Um, thanks…” Before I could say anything else, Momma K was talking again.
“Now once all this silliness is settled, I want the both of you round here for dinner. No excuses, Mason, remember I’ve heard them all and probably made up most of them.” She winked at me and shoved me towards my truck.
“He’s starting to panic. Best you get going before he has a meltdown. Oh, and here; his boss sent this for him.” Martha handed me a smaller hamper than the one the pup came in. Flipping the lid back, I was gazing down at a bottle of Johnnie Walker. Nice, well, that was more like it. That should bring a smile to Jere’s face, at least. I turned to thank her, but she’d already disappeared back inside. Okay, I tucked the condoms inside the hamper for retrieving later and put everything in the truck.
I found Jere sitting at his desk with a stack of Charles Dickens books facing me. Huh, guess he wasn’t as under-read as I thought. Just where had he been hiding those?
“I come bearing gifts! There’s more in the truck. I’ll grab what we need for now and get the other bits later. The storm is picking up. How’s Tiny Tim?” Jerry’s eyes flashed to mine before he adjusted the little blanket that was now wrapped around the pup.
“That. Is. Not. His. Name.” He spoke so quietly my ears strained to hear him.
“Why not? Tim’s a great name, and it’s better than HIM or IT. You want to go with Oliver, don’t you? Have to say Jere, I don’t think he looks like an Olly.”
“Pip.” Jerry mumbled a little louder.
“Huh?”
“Pip, it’s short for Philip.”
“Yes, why?”
“Maybe because I like it, or maybe it’s because you have great expectations.”
RIIIIGGGHHHT, I have great expectations?I was about to jump in and correct his clearly wrong perception of my character when I pulled up short.
Fuck me… was he right?
Did I have high expectations? Was that why I was so up-tight most of the time? Maybe, possibly, was now a good time to dwell on all the implications of that? Umm, no, probably not. The storm was closing in and I still needed to get stuff from the truck and Jerry sitting there looking all kinds of cute, still in his fluffy suit cradling the pup, or Pip to him was doing strange things to my head.
Jerry
I settled in to wait for Mason; I hated waiting. Sitting still so I did not disturb the slumbering beast was difficult, as I didn’t ‘just’ sit still. I was always doing something, anything, to keep my hands busy. There was always something that needed doing to the cabin, or there were small design projects I was working on. I’d even toyed with the idea of branching out and designing other ad campaigns. But, just sitting here, it slowly dawned on me that I was just finding things to take up time to distract myself from the fact that the only person who lived here was me. The kit shifted again, rubbing his face against me. This time, I didn’t shudder nearly as much. Without thinking, I rubbed small circles on his back, finding the warmth of his body calming.
The sounds of the kit’s breath in my ear slowly faded, drowned out by the howl of the wind as the storm edged closer. If I hadn’t heard the log fall, if I’d not checked the porch, the kit would still be outside in his basket. Looking at what I’d pulled from it, there really wasn’t much here. Who would leave a defenseless kit on a stranger’s doorstep? It made absolutely no sense. Like the fact that my name was clearly printed on the birth certificate. It had to be someone else. I, like everyone else, had googled my name to see just how many Jerry Bucannon’s there were in the world? I was not unique. But I was the only one in this area which still didn’t explain anything. Grabbing the wool blanket, I settled it over the kit’s little body. The thought of him being alone didn’t sit well with me, but I was the last person who should be a parent. I barely had my shit together. That was obvious in how I still hadn’t figured out who I was. Only my soul search way out here in the wilderness had come to nothing. This was far too deep a topic to focus on when I had more immediate problems to solve, namely Mason Carmichael.
Why was he so willing to help me suddenly? Sure, I’d seen the interested glint in his eye. Part of me was doing a happy dance at that realization while another part was wondering what was his angle? There was always an angle. People did nothing just out of the warmness of their heart. Dennis and Brian certainly didn’t and my mom? Well, she called when she wanted to make herself feel better by making me feel like crap. My ego was already bruised from being an emotional punching bag that I’d become wary and skeptical, then given up and decided to just avoid people instead. All except Mason. I could try to argue the fact that I just needed help and as the Sheriff, he was the obvious choice, but really, it wasn’t. It was HIM; it was Mason himself I needed. His strength and his calmness under pressure called to my inner fox, settling and soothing him. That I also found him totally drool-worth wasn’t a bad thing, either. Although his pop at my reading habits niggled. I’d read the classics, my favorite was Oscar Wilde, but I knew Charles Dickens, not personally. I wasn’t old enough for that. I had most of his books, though. A fact that I was more than willing to bring to Mason’s attention in my usual subtle way.
Finding the books was the simple part, carrying them to my desk to arrange them front and center so Mason couldn’t miss them–wasn’t. I walked so slowly to my bookshelf; a snail could have overtaken me. Looking around my cabin, I pondered what it would look like having Mason here. He filled the space, that’s for sure. The sound of his feet against the floor resonated with the beat of my heart. Would I still think so after a few days of having him in my space, touching my things–sleeping in my bed? Yeah, that was something else I’d only just realized. There was just no way he’d fit the couch; it just wasn’t designed to be slept on matter how comfy it was.
What was with him calling the kit, Tim!?! Giving it, sorry him, a name implied ownership or at the very least, it represented a vested interest. There was no way I was buying into that. The fact that the little vampire was still gumming on my neck was already proof that he was settling in. This place just wasn’t designed for a family. The second story was really more of a mezzanine with enough room for my bed and a dressing and washing area. There was no second bedroom, and I had no desire to add one, even if I could afford it. Which just brought me back to the whole Stefan and not being appreciated thing.
Time was marching on and I still sat in my chair, holding the damn baby while still wearing my snuggle suit. When I’d mentally pictured Mason in my cabin looking at me like he wanted to have me for breakfast-like the big, bad, or rather grumpy wolf that he was, it was with me wearing something more alluring. If I stood a chance at winning him over before, now it would be next to impossible.
When Mason finally reappeared, his arms full of supplies, I was more than a little taken aback at how much stuff he’d found, and at such short notice. Really, just how much did one small cub need? I had no idea where we were going to put it all. Rather than looking like the kit was merely passing through, it looked more like he was settling in for an extended stay!
“This is a lot… I thought he was only going to be here for a few days, not till he turns eighteen, Mason!” This was getting to be all a bit too much. Without thinking, I stood and started to walk back and forth, my fur booted feet padding across the floor. Mason just stood there for a moment, watching me as I huffed. Then he walked towards me as he was approaching a skittish mare. He eased the kit from my arms and returned him to his basket, tucking him in. Then he turned back, pulling me into his arms. My mind went blank. My senses crackled, overstimulated by his touch as his hands held me close, our chests pressed together. I stood there glued in place, reveling in the intimacy of it all
“It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” Mason rested his chin on the top of my head.
“I don’t think it will. What’s really happening here, Mason?” I wanted so much to believe in the fantasy of it all that this was just some crazy mistake and my life would return to normal.
“Well, for the moment we’re hugging it out, then we’re going to get the pup all settled. Have something to eat and try to enjoy what’s left of Christmas. Then tomorrow we’ll take the test and start figuring things out. But for now, I want you to take a deep breath. You’re not alone, and we will figure this all out. Okay?”
