The Body Checker Page 3

  “Good.” She walks to the passenger side and slides in. “I made a list of the things we need most. Crib, stroller, baby monitor, formula, diapers, clothes. We’ll start with those things and then move on, purchasing the rest through the week as needed.”

  I settled myself into the driver’s seat, buckle up and back out of the driveway, carefully. “What about one of those baby-on-board signs?”

  She laughs, and says, “We can get one of those, too.”

  I creep down the road, keeping my speed low, never more cautious in my life.

  “You can go a little faster,” Quinn says. “She’s not going to break.”

  I press the gas pedal, nervous driving with an infant in the vehicle. It takes twice as long for me to reach the mall, but at least the baby wasn’t hurt along the way. Jesus, I am so not cut out for children.

  I open the back door, and Daisy’s eyes are wide open and the brightest blue I’ve ever seen. Her lip trembles when she sees me and once again she starts to wail.

  I jump back, grab a fistful of hair. “She hates me, Quinn,” I say, a little unsettled at that.

  Quinn removes her from her seat and whispers, “Shh,” as she rocks her. Daisy quiets down, and Quinn gives her a pacifier. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s been with her mother for four months and you’re big. She’s probably not used to big guys like you. It will just take some time.”

  “Zander is big too, and she didn’t cry when he held her.”

  Quinn puts her hand on my arm and gives a little squeeze. Goddammit, I should not be thinking about what her soft hand would feel like on other parts of my body. “Give it some time, okay? She’ll come around.”

  I nod, and Quinn continues to hold her as we make our way inside the department store. “She’s only four months but she gets heavy after a while.”

  “Want me to take her?”

  “Ah, no. Let’s just go pick out a stroller first.”

  “See, you know she hates me, too. That’s why you won’t hand her over. You don’t want her to cry again.”

  Quinn laughs. “Stop being a big baby.”

  I follow Quinn to the baby section, and we pick out furniture and all the other things on her list.

  Hours later, Daisy is squirming and crying again, and I’m not even holding her.

  “She’s hungry,” Quinn says, and reaches into the bag she brought with us. Christ, I never would have thought to bring food. The child would starve if I was left alone with her. “Let’s find a nursing station.”

  I have no idea what a nursing station is, or where to find one, but I follow her through the store until we come to a room with numerous other moms and their children. Some of the older kids are playing as mother’s nurse their babies, some with bottles and some with their breasts.

  Suddenly uncomfortable, I start to back up, but Quinn stop me.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I don’t think I should be in here.” I lean down and put my mouth close to her ear, my words meant for her only. “Some of these women have their breasts out.”

  “You do realize breasts aren’t just for a man’s pleasure, right?”

  “Well…ah…” What the hell can I say? Of course women’s breasts are for a man’s pleasure? Jesus, I’m such a douche bag. But at least I know it.

  She must have come to the same conclusion because she points to a chair, refusing to cut me any sort of slack, and I suppose I should be grateful. “Sit.”

  “Ninja Chihuahua,” I whisper, and Quinn laughs. I do as I’m told, and Quinn places Daisy in my arms. A few of the moms look on curiously.

  “Hi,” I say to the women, and pray to fuck Daisy doesn’t start screeching. She’s looking up at me with skeptical big blue eyes, that bottom lip of hers trembling again. I try to bounce her like I’d seen Quinn do, and that’s when I notice how goddamn tiny she really is.

  “First child?” the woman breastfeeding beside me asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Four months.”

  “And you’re still not comfortable with her?”

  I grimace. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Don’t worry, you won’t break her.” She smiles at me. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

  That thought makes me sad, because without a mother, it’s going to be tough for her. Just like it was tough for Quinn.

  Quinn comes back with the bottle and crouches in front of me. She hands the bottle over. “Hold it like this so she doesn’t get air bubbles.” I do as she says, and Daisy takes big gulping drinks, her tears on hold for the moment.

  “She looks like her mom,” the woman says. “Big blue eyes.”

  Quinn smiles and doesn’t correct her.

  She drinks fast, and when she slows, her eyes slide shut. Quinn takes the bottle from me. “Now you have to burb her.”

  I put her over my shoulder, the same way Zander had earlier, and I rub and tap her tiny little back. My eyes meet Quinn’s and she’s watching me carefully, an expression on her face I can’t quite figure out. Does she want a baby of her own? Most likely, considering she works in a daycare. But she doesn’t go out with many men, has never been serious with anyone. It’s not like I keep tabs on her or anything. It’s just that she’s my best friend’s sister and her well-being is important to me.

  And yeah, I keep tabs on her.

  Daisy lets out the loudest burb in the room and my chest puffs out as the women chuckle. I’m kind of proud that my girl can burb like that.

  My girl.

  Wow, talk about going from denial to acceptance in record time. But the truth is, I might be a selfish prick, but I had a good upbringing. My mother taught me right from wrong and made sure I accepted responsibility for my actions.

  How is she going to feel about little Daisy? My folks are old fashioned and believe in marriage before children. Will they encourage me to marry Shari, to keep a family together? I mean, a baby needs a mom and dad, right? Quinn and Zander know that firsthand. Maybe that’s what Quinn was thinking about, that I should go find Shari and do right by her and Daisy.

  “We should get her home,” Quinn says quietly, her voice a little sad.

  I wrap Daisy in her blanket and place her back in the stroller we bought. Since everything we purchased is being delivered, and we were able to do-one stop shopping in the department store, including baby formula, and diapers, we head to the car. Delivery will be later today, which will give me lots of time to get her crib set up before nightfall.

  I buckle Daisy in and I cautiously drive to the local grocery store. Quinn seems a little amused by my driving. She averts her gaze and looks out the window. “Are your mom and dad away?” she asks.

  “Yeah, they just left, otherwise I wouldn’t be taking up all your time with this. I would have gotten Mom to help.”

  “I don’t mind, Jonah. I didn’t have much planned for this weekend.”

  “So, I’m not keeping you from a hot date?” I tease.

  I must have touched a sore spot because her head spins my way. “Well, yes, but I can reschedule,” she says, and I get the sense she’s lying. “Daisy needs me more than I…”

  “More than you what?” I ask, wanting to add…need to get laid, but I’m not interested in spending the rest of my life with one testicle.

  Heat moves into her cheeks, making her look so goddamn sexy, my dick twitches. Goddammit, that’s the last thing I need right now.

  “More than I need a romantic candlelight dinner out.”

  “That’s your thing? Romantic candlelight dinners?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she says with a lift of her chin.

  “You’re right, it’s not. Want to know my thing?”

  “I already do. Boobs.”

  I laugh and catch her grin. “What if I said you were wrong?”

  “First, I’d say you were a liar; second, I’d say I don’t want to know any more.”

  “Nothing?”

>   “No. Nothing. Ever. What kind of weird things you’re into is your business, not mine.”

  We reach the grocery store, and I kill the engine.

  “Weird things? What makes you think I’m into weird things?”

  She shrugs. “A girl hears things.”

  “Lies, Quinn. All lies,” I say, and she gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me.

  We make our way into the store, grab all the supplies Quinn thinks we need and go back to the car. I drive home, pull into the garage, and Daisy is fast asleep by the time I remove her from her car seat. I’m hoping she doesn’t wake up and see me holding her. She’s been frightened enough for one day. Once again, anger coils through me. How could Shari just leave her daughter like this?

  “Fuck,” I say under my breath, then remember I’m not supposed to swear in front of the infant. We get inside, and I set her on the sofa, surrounding her with pillows.

  “You are a fast learner,” Quinn says as she watches me carefully.

  “Told you.”

  “And here I thought you were just a pretty face,” she quips.

  I step into her, despite knowing better, but I suddenly want to tease her, want to make her blush, because goddammit, there is nothing sexier than Quinn with pink cheeks. I’ve known it for years. “You think I have a pretty face?”

  “No, of course not,” she shoots back quickly, her chest rising and falling a bit quicker.

  Would you look at that. Little Quinn Reed is flustered. Maybe she’s doesn’t hate me as much as I think she does. “It’s just a saying.”

  At the risk of losing a testicle, I touch her hair, run it though my fingers. “Too many scars?” I ask.

  “No, I’m not shallow,” she says, and she reaches out and touches my cheek. “How did you get this one though? Another hockey puck to the face?”

  She traces the soft tip of a finger down my cheek, near my ear, and my pulse jumps in my throat. “Fight. High school.”

  Her eyes widen. “I hate to see what the other guy looks like.” She quivers a bit, and pulls her hand back. Under her breath, she says, “I hate violence.”

  “He sucker punched your brother. It wasn’t a fair fight, so he had a broken nose coming to him.”

  “Oh, I had no idea.”

  “I protect those I care about, Quinn.”

  She opens her mouth to say something but from the sofa, Daisy makes a noise, and it pulls me back. Okay, get your shit together, dude. Hitting on the one girl who can help you out in this messy situation—the one girl you can’t put a finger on—is a dick-ass move, on so many levels.

  “Hungry?” I ask.

  “Starving,” she says quickly, clearly appreciating the change in topic.

  “It’s going to be a while before Daisy’s things and our groceries get delivered. Order in?”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  “Italian?” I ask, remembering how much she likes the lasagna from Luigi’s.

  “Sure.” She tugs at her short strands of blonde hair and frowns.

  “What?”

  “I rushed over here so fast this morning, I didn’t have time for a shower. Mind if I use yours.”

  “Hey, you’re here helping me, you can have and use anything you want. I mean anything.”

  You can even use my body if you’re so inclined.

  Shit, asshole. Stop thinking like that.

  Her big blue eyes go wide, and I suck in my breath. Hoping I didn’t say any of that out loud.

  “Oh, damn,” she says, then covers her mouth and glances at a sleeping Daisy. “Oops.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We forgot to stop at my place for a change of clothes.”

  “I can drive you.”

  “No, I don’t want to miss the delivery.”

  “Did you want to go yourself?” I ask, trying to hide the fact that staying here alone with an infant terrifies me.

  She crinkles her nose. “No, I don’t really want to leave you alone with her just yet. I mean, I know you can take care of her, but she’s not used to you,” she says, switching it around to show that it’s Daisy she’s worried about, but I can’t help but think she’s worried about me, too.

  I almost exhale a breath of relief. “I have some old sweats and a few shirts you can borrow.”

  She does a sweep of my body, and makes a face. “Nothing of yours is going to fit me.”

  “I’ve got sweats that tie, and I’ve seen you in baggy T-shirts before. Just grab what you need from my closet.”

  “You don’t mind me going through your things?”

  “Nope. I’m just like your brother, remember.”

  She looks away at the reminder, like she doesn’t want me to see her expression. “Right. What about a toothbrush?”

  “I have spares in the bathroom drawer. Help yourself to anything, Quinn.”

  She heads toward the stairs. “Am I going to find something…weird…in your closet or drawers?”

  “Define weird.”

  She glances at me over her shoulder, and from her grin, I can tell she’s being playful. “Something that one might have to blow up.”

  I laugh, hard. “You looking for something to blow?” I tease, and her cheeks turn a sexy shade of pink.

  “No, I mean…I was just…” She growls, and I grin. Whoever thought I could fluster the Ninja Chihuahua. “Never mind.”

  She rushes up the stairs, putting an end to my taunting, but hey, she was the one who brought it up. Seriously though, hearing the word blow on her lips has my dick standing at attention. Christ, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Quinn under the same roof as me, sleeping in the next room. Well, that might prove too much.

  As Quinn roots around in my closet, I pull my cell phone from my pocket and place an order. Daisy makes sucking sounds, and I drop to the floor beside the sofa. I’m a dad. Her tiny fingers are curled, and I tentatively reach out and touch them. She’s so little and vulnerable, solely relying on me, and that, I’m not ashamed to admit, scares the living fuck out of me.

  Can I do this?

  My heart jumps into my throat, and suddenly I’m finding it a little hard to breath.

  “You are so tiny,” I say quietly. My thumb brushes her soft pink cheek, and she turns toward my hand. “I’m sorry about what your mom did, Daisy. None of this is your fault, and I know I’m not much of a father, but I’m going to try to be the man you need me to be.”

  Her eyes flicker open, and my heart squeezes as she looks at me, her big blue eyes roaming my face, taking me in, accessing me, like she’s seeing me as something different for the first time.

  “Hi, Daisy,” I say in a soft voice. “I guess I’m your dad.” Her lips quivers, and I rush out with, “Yeah, I know, I don’t blame you for crying. I would cry too if I were you.” I play with her little hand, examine it, and when her tiny fingers fist around one of mine, my heart speeds up and my vision goes a little fuzzy. She makes a cooing sound, and my chest tightens.

  The stair creaks, and I lift my head to see Quinn walking back up the steps, her body tight. “Hey,” I say.

  “I’m sorry.” She turns to me. “I didn’t mean to intrude or eavesdrop. I just…” She holds up the clothes in her hands. “Wanted to see if it was okay if I wore these.”

  “Wear whatever you like,” I say. “I told you, you can have and use anything at all. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

  She nods, turns quickly and races up the stairs. After she disappears upstairs again, I grab my phone. There are a ton of messages that I’ve been ignoring. Damn, news sure travels fast in the hockey circuit. Most of the texts are from the puck bunnies I know, asking if they can come by to help, but I get that’s not what they’re after. I’m a known player, a guy who plays as hard off the ice as he does on it. These women want one thing from me, and I’m okay with that. I’m not looking to settle down anytime soon, and when I do, I want it to be with someone who sees me as more than the Body Checker. Someone who
wants me for me.

  I hear a truck pull into the driveway just as the shower turns on upstairs. “Looks like your new furniture is here, little one.” I climb to my feet and tuck the blanket tighter around the tired baby as her lids fall shut again, and make my way to the front door.

  The driver and his helper unload the first box: Daisy’s new crib.

  “Hey,” I say, and they both greet me with a nod.

  The driver nearly drops the box when he reaches the door. “Shit, aren’t you—”

  “Yeah, Jonah Long,” I say. “Better known as the Body Checker.”

  “Man, you had a great season,” his helper says.

  “Thanks.”

  “Where do you want this?” the driver asks.

  “Upstairs, second door on the left.”

  I watch them as they carry the new crib up to Daisy’s room, making this fatherhood thing official, and that’s when the reality of the situation hits like a stick to the back of the neck.

  Jesus, I’m really doing this.

  4

  Quinn

  I turn the shower off and listen to voices outside the bathroom door. I towel-dry my hair, pull on Jonah’s sweatpants and soft blue T-shirt and give myself a once over in the mirror. Cripes, I look like stumpy, the eighth dwarf, in his far too big clothes. But beggars can’t be choosers, so these things will have to due until I can get to my place tomorrow.

  I carefully open one of his drawers, looking for a comb but half expecting to see a box or two of condoms, or some kind of ointment for a rash that has doctors stumped. That thought makes me chuckle.

  I grab his comb and run it through my hair and when I’m done, I listen for sound outside the door, and wait until the delivery men are downstairs before I step into the hall. I walk into the bedroom Jonah put the crib in. It’s a decent-size room, with a double bed and dresser. It’s painted in a soft grey, and I wonder if Jonah might be interested in making it a little more feminine. Not that he’d know how, but I could help him. Then again, maybe it’s not in my best interest to spend any more time around him than necessary. The close proximity is messing with my brain and my body.

  “Hey,” he says, and I nearly jump from my skin.