Page 56 of Gatling
“Thank you. It’s always nice to receive recognition for your effort.”
I squinted at him.
“In fact, sometimes you do your job a little too well.”
He narrowed his eyes in return.
“Watch it, kiddo. Don’t ruin the moment.”
I grinned at him. He grinned back.
Then he rose from his chair, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed my forehead. My smile trembled and I reached out, clutching his wrist. I truly didn’t know what I would do without him.
“I’m scared, Noah,” I whispered.
“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured.
Perching on the bed next to me, he smoothed a lock of hair behind my ear and chucked me under the chin affectionately.
“The kids at the day care center adore you,” he went on. “Every funky little crayon scribble they give to you is treated like a priceless treasure. Most people would throw them out after a while. But you’ve kept every single one.”
“Of course I did,” I said softly. “They’re the sweetest little angels.”
“That’s how I know you will be a fantastic mother, butterbean. For every kid that crosses your path, you make them feel special. It’s okay to be scared. But you’re smart, you’ll figure it out. And if you need a cool uncle to babysit, I will offer my services.” He paused and added with a sly look, “For a fee, of course. I’ll need compensation for all the stress that little tyke puts me through.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in this equation,” I protested. “I’m sure you will teach her a few things that I won’t approve of.”
Noah’s eyebrows shot up.
“Her?”
I bit my lip with a small smile.
“Maybe. It’s too early to tell, of course. But I just…”
“It’s a gut feeling,” Noah finished for me.
I met his gaze and nodded.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
He patted my hand, tucking the sheets around me, fussing a little.
“For the record, yes, I will teach her a few things you won’t approve of. That’s the fun part about being an uncle. But I also have a gut feeling that she’s going to do some stupid shit all on her own. Like getting the bright idea to tie a blanket around her neck for a cape and jump off the roof to see if she can fly,” he added with a pointed look.
“That was one time!” I said. “I was barely eight years old. I didn’t know any better. And besides, I learned my lesson after breaking my arm. I never did it again.”
“Oh, sure, you lookedsodisappointed when the friendly doctor at the ER gave youtwolollipops instead of one, just because of your cute little pout,” Noah replied, sarcastically.
I cackled.
“That cute little pout got me out of all kinds of trouble.”
He grumbled and pretended to sulk.
“I should have known you would become a total menace when you discovered the power of flirting to get what you want. You didn’t even share your loot with me, either. I was devastated. Heartbroken. Mortally wounded that my dearest, sweetest sister would neglect me that way. You ate those lollipops—both of them—right in front of me and stuck out your lime green tongue, just to rub it in.”
I rolled my eyes at his melodramatic theatrics.
