“You done here?” he asked, gesturing to the refrigerated display case.
“Yep, Petals is closed for the day. I was supposed to be on a date, remember?” Vicki refused to read anything into the way his brows dipped at the reminder. “Just let me grab my purse and keys and I’ll follow you to your place.”
She retrieved her phone from the counter and sent Sandra a text message, letting her know she was leaving. When she went outside, Jordan was strapping Mason into his safety seat. A few minutes later, they were making their way along Seaside Drive, the stretch of highway that hugged the coastline that wrapped around Wintersage. Jordan lived on the opposite side of town, what locals called “below the bay.”
Jordan’s gray, single-story, shingle-style cottage, with its charming white shutters and walkway bordered by weather-beaten boulders from the shoreline, was, in Vicki’s opinion, one of the most charming homes in this section of Wintersage. Though modest for someone of Jordan’s means, it seemed to fit him perfectly.
He turned into his driveway and both doors of the double garage opened. Vicki pulled her car in alongside his. When she walked over to Jordan, he was holding a finger against his lips.
“He fell asleep on the drive over,” Jordan whispered.
“Ah.” Vicki nodded. She pointed to her car and mouthed, “Should I go?”
He hunched his shoulder. “I guess,” he whispered as he unstrapped Mason. He took great care in lifting the baby from the safety seat, huddling him close to his chest.
Vicki waved goodbye and started back for her car, but her feet stopped at the sound of Mason’s sudden wailing. She spun around and instantly took pity on Jordan’s pathetic expression. He looked on the verge of collapse.
“I guess I’m staying after all,” Vicki said, returning to Jordan’s side. She lifted Mason from his arms. “It’s okay, honey.” She patted his back as she followed Jordan up the garage’s steps and into the mudroom.
By the time they entered the house, Mason’s wail was down to a soft whimper. Vicki carried him through the short hallway that led into the kitchen, but stopped short as she passed the threshold.
The place was a mess.
Plush teddy bears and plastic toys littered the floor. There were newspapers and empty coffee mugs strewn about the table in the breakfast nook. Dirty dishes and at least a half dozen sippy cups filled the sink.
“Uh, excuse the mess,” Jordan said as he pushed aside an open box of animal crackers to make room on the counter for the baby bag he’d carried in from the car. He perched against the counter and folded his arms over his chest.
He looked from her to Mason and huffed out an exhausted laugh. “I don’t know what you do, but I wish you’d tell me,” he said. “I’m starting to believe you have some kind of magical powers when it comes to my son.”
“I already gave you my theory,” she said. “You’re agitated, and I think Mason can sense that.”
“I guess your theory makes more sense than magic. I have been wound pretty tight since the election results came in. I can’t seem to relax.”
“Have you tried?”
“Not really,” he said with another weary chuckle. “I’ve never been good at it. Always seems as if my time could be better spent doing something more productive.”
“Get some rest, Jordan. I’m sure some uninterrupted sleep will do you good.”
He walked over to them and smoothed a hand over Mason’s head. This brought him way too close to her for her peace of mind.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it,” Vicki said, taking a step back to create some distance between them. “Put the election and everything else out of your head for a few hours and rest. This little one and I will be just fine.”
He came over to them again and pressed a kiss to Mason’s forehead. “Thanks again for doing this,” he said to her, his grateful though exhausted smile setting off all kinds of sinfully delicious tingles in her belly.
Goodness, but she was pitiful when it came to this man.
“If you need me, just come in and wake me,” he said before walking through the arched entryway that led to the rest of the house.
Vicki remained standing there until she heard the click of a door closing.
She looked down at Mason. “The new Vicki needs to remember what she said about not acting a fool for your dad.”
“Ball,” Mason said, pointing to a multicolored ball on the table.
Vicki picked up the ball, along with several other toys scattered along the kitchen counter, and brought Mason into the living room. Lifting an afghan with a seaside lighthouse pattern on it from the sofa, she spread it out on the hardwood floor and set Mason on it, then she plopped down next to him and rolled a plastic ball toward him.
After several minutes of playing with the ball, Mason’s mouth twisted in a frown. Seconds later, Vicki caught a whiff of something that made her stomach turn.
“Oh, you would do that after your daddy has gone to nap, wouldn’t you?”
She scooped the baby up and went in search of diaper-changing supplies. Vicki opened several doors, including a linen closet and what had to be Jordan’s home office, which was impeccable—a surprise—seeing as how the rest of the house was in shambles.
Finally, she came upon Mason’s brightly colored bedroom. Unfortunately, she didn’t find any diapers in there.
Vicki remembered the baby bag Jordan had brought in and returned to the kitchen where he’d left it on the counter. With the baby perched on her hip, she searched the bag but only came up with baby wipes and a small bottle of baby powder.
“Well, we’ll definitely need these, but we’re missing the most important thing.”
She hated to wake Jordan up so soon after he’d gone in for his nap, but if this diaper didn’t get changed soon the stench would probably wake him.
She went through the great room and down the hallway to the master bedroom. Tapping lightly on the door, she softly called, “Jordan?”
“Come in,” came a voice that was much too robust to come from someone who should have been asleep.
Vicki pushed her way through the door and frowned.
Jordan sat up with his back against the headboard, his stocking feet crossed at the ankles. An open laptop rested on his thighs and a pair of reading glasses was perched upon his nose. Make that an astonishingly sexy pair of reading glasses.
She tried to block the sexiness from her head, otherwise her impending lecture wouldn’t be nearly as effective as she needed it to be. She plopped a hand on the hip that didn’t have a twenty-two-pound toddler on it and narrowed her eyes at Jordan.
“Seriously?” she said, jutting her chin toward the laptop.
“Yeah, I know.” He grimaced. “I just needed to check one thing.”
“You’re supposed to be resting, Jordan, not working. Those are two very different concepts. It’s easy to tell them apart.”
He looked at her over the rim of his glasses and grinned. “Who knew Vicki Ahlfors was such a smart a—” He glanced at Mason. “Aleck,” he finished.
No, no, no. Her cheeks would not heat up at his teasing.
“No changing the subject,” she said, keeping her voice as firm as possible. “I didn’t volunteer to watch Mason so you can work.” The little boy shifted in her arms and Vicki caught another whiff of his aroma, reminding