Wingmen Babypalooza: A Wingmen Novella Page 2

  Her gasp is exaggerated and it sounds like she chokes on her laughter. “You’re a heartless man, Tom Donnely.”

  “I have a reputation to protect.” I sling my free arm over her shoulder and steer her toward the entrance. “If you swear your silence, I’ll buy you an ice cream at Ivar’s before we get on the ferry.”

  “And a clam chowder.” Sliding her hand to my lower back, she slips a finger through one of the belt loops of my jeans. “No, cancel the chowder. Fried clams. So I can dip them in the ice cream.”

  I don’t bother hiding my shudder or the loud gagging sound. “I might have to go up on deck while you defile two perfectly good foods that should never be joined in unholy matrimony.”

  “Totally fine with me. More deliciousness all to myself.” She grins at me.

  When we pull into the ferry waiting lot, I run through the parked cars to place her order. Even though it’s misting with a cold wind blowing off of the water, I order a swirl cone for myself. Because I deserve a reward for shopping.

  Returning to the truck, the bear crammed into the back of the king cab makes me grin.

  Makes the whole debacle worth it.

  Chapter 2

  “You’re not leaving that thing here.” John jabs the grizzly in the belly. As soon as he answered the door, his mouth turned down into a frown. Now he’s blocking me from entering his house. Not very hospitable at all.

  From the other side of the doorway, I pop my head over the bear’s shoulder. “Not sounding very grateful about our baby gift.”

  “We don’t need a gift. You can come in, but the stuffed animal stays in the truck. Alene has enough toys.” He’s extra cranky sounding today. With his arms crossed and his feet spread, he fills the entire door, leaving me no room to shove the bear past him.

  “Sounds like someone needs a hug.” I outstretch the bear’s arms and try to engulf John’s torso. I manage to get one arm around him before he wiggles free. At least I’ve made it through the door. Baby steps.

  “I’m serious.” His voice lowers. “Alene sees this and you’re in big trouble.”

  The happy chirps of his toddler daughter ring out above us, followed by the sound of little feet running down the hall. Diane’s footsteps chase Alene’s before a loud rattling of the baby gate draws our attention to the stairs.

  John shoves the bear at me and snarls, “Get out.”

  “Who’s here?” Diane’s voice carries downstairs.

  “No one.” John glares at me.

  “Then why are you yelling?” There’s an ominous click of metal on metal before Diane continues, “Hold Mommy’s hand and the railing.”

  “Now.” John shoves the bear.

  “I can’t. Screen’s locked.” I give him a shit-eating grin and bat my pretty blue eyes at him in innocence.

  Instead of forcing me out, John’s created a bear sandwich as he presses us both against the frame.

  “Dadda, Dadda, Dadda,” Alene repeats as she stomps down each step.

  Resigned, John gives up. “Revenge will be mine.”

  I chuckle. “You’d make an excellent villain. The dark beard and sinister expression. I almost believe you’re mad at me.”

  “What’s that?” Diane asks from the base of the stairs.

  “A bad idea,” John mumbles.

  “Hi.” I lower my voice into a bear sounding growl. “I’m your new best friend.”

  The most ear-piercing scream I’ve ever heard echoes throughout the house. Miles away, I’m sure dogs begin howling at the high-pitched sound. Babe, the Days’ yellow lab, rushes past me, somehow opens the door with his nose, and darts to freedom.

  “Should I go wrangle Babe?” Already backing away, I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, nearly dropping the giant stuffed animal. I bobble the bear for a minute, causing it to lurch forward through the doorway again.

  More screaming ensues.

  “Right. I’ll go get the dog.” Feeling like a complete asshole for scaring a toddler, I readjust my hold on the bear and shove it in front of me. There’s always Donnely family Christmas. I can gift the giant to one of the nephews. Pissing off my sisters is a holiday tradition.

  “Tom,” Diane calls out from behind me, “wait.”

  My steps pause on the path, and she catches up.

  “Wow, it’s even bigger up close.” She touches the bear’s fur.

  I bite my tongue because even I’m over the “that’s what she said” response.

  “Walked into that one, didn’t I?” She laughs and I release the hold on my own amusement. “It’s really sweet you bought Alene a bear.”

  “Went over well.” Mentally, I’m kicking myself while I shift the bear and try to tuck it under one arm. After struggling to get a grip on the middle, I sigh and set it on the ground, resigned. “I’m sorry if I traumatized her. It’s over the top, and honestly, I got it because it reminded me of John.”

  Diane steps closer and studies the bear. “If it had a beard, I could totally see the resemblance. Maybe seeing the two of them side by side blew her seventeen-month-old mind. She’s been having some major stranger danger lately.”

  “Better keep her away from the furry conventions,” I say as a joke.

  Diane lifts her dark eyebrow at me. Her coloring is similar to Hailey’s but she’s more petite and curvy where Hailey is tall and all legs. Legs and a giant belly.

  “Not that I’d know when or where those take place, but come on, you know Seattle probably has one.” What am I talking about? My mouth is speaking, but my brain is somewhere else.

  Screaming Alene has turned me into a rambling teenage boy. My whole life I’ve never been awkward around women. Growing up with three sisters means girls were never mysteries to me. I knew too much too young.

  So I assumed tiny size girls like Alene would be easy.

  Yeah, the ass in that sentence is me.

  “Okay then,” Diane drawls out the words. “You want to try again?”

  I’m totally confused. “Which part?”

  “Giving Alene the bear.”

  “You don’t want me to make it disappear?”

  “He’s cute.” She picks up a big paw and waves it at me.

  “John doesn’t want it.” The fun of annoying him has faded. Now I’m more than a little afraid of his revenge.

  “He’s being grumpy. Maybe focusing on hating the bear will distract him from worrying over me.” Her hand rests on the lowest swell of her pregnant belly.

  Now I’m worried, too. My focus stays on her hand when I ask, “Is something wrong?”

  “My doctor’s worried about my blood pressure. I feel fine, but once John heard I’m at the high range of normal, he’s been fretting like a penguin sitting on a nest.”

  The image of John as a giant bird causes me to snort. “Maybe I should’ve bought a stuffed chicken.”

  “Don’t poke him. He’s not sleeping well. Neither of us are. Alene’s the only one sleeping through the night. I swear, I get up to pee and he’s up, making sure I’m fine.” She rolls her eyes, exasperated.

  I’ve seen the same expression on Hailey’s face a lot recently.

  ““Are you two out here plotting something?” John’s deep voice from the doorway makes me jump, like I’m guilty.

  “Yes, your Christmas present,” Diane replies with a straight face.

  He grumbles about not needing anything. “Why are you standing out front with the bear?”

  “I’m convincing Tom we want to keep it.” Grinning, she waves the paw again.

  “Why?” His voice says he thinks this is a terrible idea. Worst idea ever.

  “Because he’s adorable.” Diane pets his arm with the paw.

  “The bear or the man?” John eyes me with an arched eyebrow.

  I jerk my chin back. “Both, of course.”

  “Alene’s terrified of it,” he grumbles.

  “I think we can win her over,” Diane says, voice full of confidence.

  “How?” He crosses his arms.
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  “Dadda!” Alene shouts from inside.

  “Where is she?” Diane asks. “She better not be in the dog crate again.”

  “That only happened a few times.” John uncrosses his arms and rubs his beard. “She’s in her high chair, eating some sort of puffed cereal.”

  I know of more than a few times when Alene could barely crawl she ended up in Babe’s crate or curled up on his dog bed. Dog should be sainted. If that’s possible.

  “I say we bring it inside, set it on the floor, and let her explore at her own pace.”

  “And if she has nightmares or ends up with a fear of bears, Tom’s responsible, right?”

  “I’ll start a therapy fund.” I smirk at him.

  Resigned, he sighs. “Okay, the thing can come inside, but if she starts screaming again, it’s gone.”

  “You sound like Olaf,” I say, poking the virtual bear while picking up the stuffed one.

  “Put it on the ground by the couch.” Diane ignores John’s scowl as she leads the way back inside the house.

  “Look, Alene, Tom’s brought you a present.”

  Alene holds a fistful of pale orange puffs in her hand, and from the bulge in her cheeks, she’s been practicing her squirrel impersonation.

  “Fom,” she says with her mouth full.

  “Hi, Beautiful.” I wave as I march the bear past her and into the living room.

  After setting it down on the floor, I glance over at Alene. Wide-eyed, she absently chews on her mouthful of cereal.

  I can’t tell if she’s enthralled or terrified, but she’s not screaming or crying.

  “I’m calling it a win,” I declare.

  “Hold off on that. Sometimes it takes her a while to warm up the engines again,” John explains.

  Still clenching her fistful of puffs, she warily eyes the newest arrival into her kingdom. Her forehead scrunches and her fist waves in the air as if she’s silently commanding the bear to leave.

  The three adults stand quietly in the living room, watching Alene like a group of explosive experts studying a bomb.

  Cramming the crushed cereal into her mouth with force, she studies the bear with her dark eyes, and then us.

  “Dadda?” she asks, sending crumbs flying.

  “You want down?” John slowly approaches the high chair.

  She lifts her arms in silent confirmation.

  I hold my breath when he sets her on her feet.

  “Dadda!” Alene waddles herself closer to the bear and gives it a big hug. Her chubby arms can barely close around its arm, but she squeezes as tight as she can.

  “Wait, does she think the bear is daddy?” I choke out the question before laughing.

  Happy as can be, Alene climbs into the bear’s lap and pets it’s furry face.

  Diane joins me in laughter. “I’m sure she can tell the difference between a stuffed animal and her father. Ninety percent certain.”

  John stands next to her, arms crossed, and lips pressed together. Grumbling, “It doesn’t even look like me.”

  “Oh, but it does. It totally does,” I say, pleased with myself that my gift is a hit. “We can put one of your plaid shirts on him. Would probably fit.”

  “It’s not staying,” John grumbles.

  “Honey, she loves it.” Mirroring her daughter’s actions, Diane scratches his beard.

  “We don’t have room. She has a million toys and the baby’s going to have more stuff. We’re becoming the old woman who lived in a shoe.”

  Diane glances around the room’s jumble of toys and furniture. “I don’t think we’ve reached that level yet, but we could use more space.”

  “You thinking of moving?” The thought never occurred to me. John’s always lived on Sunlight Beach in his uncle’s cabin. It’s not huge, but it’s not a tiny shack either. And it’s right on the sand. One of the few non-mansions left.

  “Never, but I want to expand the upstairs,” Diane says.

  “And I don’t want to be one of those people who puts a huge house on a small lot,” John argues.

  By those people, he means summer people. Seattle people who “weekend” on the island in huge homes that sit empty for the majority of the year.

  “How big are you talking?” I study the open concept kitchen, dining area and living room with a view over the bay.

  “Not a mansion. Another bathroom. Maybe add a bedroom.”

  “Doesn’t sound unreasonable,” I agree with Diane.

  “We have a baby coming.” John states the obvious like we’ve forgotten.

  “You wouldn’t live here while there’s construction. Move out. Hell, you could live in Ellie’s place until summer while she’s in Arizona.” I offer a solution he hasn’t asked for, but that’s what we do. We fix things, including problems, whether we’re asked to or not.

  “See, John? There are options. Maybe not this winter, but next year could work? I’m not up for being sleepless and homeless.” Diane mouths “no” while shaking her head.

  “We’ll see,” John says, and I know he’ll agree if she really wants this. He lives for her happiness. The old softy.

  Chapter 3

  On my way home from John’s, I swing by Sal’s Pizza in Freeland to pick up an order Hailey called in for dinner. When I walk in to the restaurant, I interrupt Roslyn and Dan in the middle of an intimate conversation.

  “I’m fine. Doctor is worried about my ‘advanced maternal age’ because I’m over thirty-five. Jeez, like I don’t know I’m facing down forty, you have to label me old on all my paperwork?” Roslyn’s a force on a normal day when she’s not pumped full of hormones. Her eyes flash with annoyance.

  I swear the hairs on my arms prickle with the tension in the room.

  “Love, your sugar levels are elevated,” Dan says. He’s her husband, the island pizza guru, possibly Batman, and a silver fox according to every woman I know, including my mother and Gramma Ellie.

  Ros sticks her tongue out at him. “Still within the normal range.”

  Dan stares at her with his dark eyes and she glares right back, lost in a silent contest of their own. Giving up, he spins around to face the ledge separating the front counter from the open kitchen.

  I’m picking up a pizza for my own pregnant wife. I don’t have all night to let them battle for dominance.

  “Is that my pizza on the counter?” I speak up and point to the box sitting under the heat lamp. Not that Dan can see me because he doesn’t have an extra pair of eyes on the back of his head.

  “No,” he says, not glancing at me. “Yours is still in the oven.”

  “Okay, well, maybe I’ll take a seat and let you two finish whatever it is you’re doing.” After saying hi, I slide around Roslyn and head toward the first booth.

  “I’m fine,” she whispers to me as I pass.

  “All the pregnant ladies say the same thing,” I say in the same hushed tone.

  “Then why don’t you men believe us?” She keeps her voice low and conspiratorial.

  “Because fine is usually code for anything but. We’ve been trained to protect our balls when we hear women say fine,” Dan responds loudly still with his back to us.

  Roslyn’s eyes narrow as she faces me. “Do you agree?”

  My neck itches under her scrutiny. I’m damned either way. “You’re kind of proving his point right now. Your eyes could shoot laser beams if you glare any stronger.”

  She blinks and shakes her head. “I didn’t realize I was glaring.”

  Dan dips his chin and glances over his shoulder at me. “Tom, how’re things going with you?”

  “Good. Boat business is good. We’re busy down at the yard. Hailey’s finishing up a project by first week in December and we’ll see what happens after that.”

  “If she’s anything like Roslyn, I bet she’s not planning on slowing down until the very last minute.” Dan smiles at his wife. Even I can see the love in his eyes. The man’s hopelessly in love when it comes to Roslyn. Guess when you found and then
lost your love, you hold on tight if you get a second chance.

  “My hearing is fine, too,” Roslyn remarks, but there’s no malice in her voice.

  “You’ve never been sexier,” Dan says softly. “Nor more beautiful. Never have I been more conscious of my heart living outside my body.”

  Roslyn sighs. “Damn you. You can’t use your superpowers over me like that.”

  I swear she’s blushing. When I first walked in, I felt like I’d interrupted an argument. Now, I’m the awkward third on their lovey-dovey date.

  “Pizza done yet?” I ask, ready to get out of here so they can get on with it.

  “You see a box on the counter?” Behind the counter, Dan flips his attention from Roslyn to me. “How about I give you some garlic knots while you wait?”

  “If you insist.” I’m not a fool to turn down free food from Dan.

  “Are you taking maternity leave?” I ask, genuinely interested so I can use the information as leverage with Hailey.

  “I run my own PR company and there’s no way I can take six weeks of maternity leave. My clients will implode without me telling them what not to do.” She sighs. “I know they’ll be fine, but I’m not sure I can give up control.”

  “This is why your office is in the guest house,” Dan says. “At least you don’t have to commute off the island and management won’t complain if you bring your baby to work every day.”

  “Is John as bad as Dan?” Roslyn asks, resigned but smiling. “I swear the three of you need your own support group. Maybe some drumming and marching around the fire pit like cavemen would help.”

  I ignore her jab. She’s half right about us needing some guy time not involving baby talk. Or drum circles. I’ll leave that to Falcon, the island’s version of a human unicorn, or Jonah, because no one knows what he does in his off time.

  “John’s like papa bear but Diane’s Goldilocks. Or some fairy tale with an overprotective bear-husband figure in it. I need to brush up on my nursery rhymes,” I say as I try to remember the books I knew as a little kid.