LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

Jon suggested as he went to tend to Matthew.

      “Now he tells me,” Harrison muttered.

      “Oh, and you’ll have to strain the orange juice. The pulp clogs the spout.”

      The only strainer Harrison possessed was a cocktail strainer. It was barely adequate.

      “You want a diapering lesson?” Jon asked.

      “I can figure it out.” Harrison spoke from the kitchen floor just as something dropped in his hair. His fingers encountered a squishy lump. Cereal. Or what used to be cereal before it absorbed orange juice. He looked up and caught Nathan shoving more over the side of his tray.

      “I’ve learned a couple of diapering tricks that might make your life easier,” Jon said.

      “And other than keeping your children in a cage and hosing them down twice a day, that would be...?”

      Jon laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. But seriously, don’t leave Matthew alone on a table or he’ll roll off, and keep him covered at all times.”

      “Why? He’s not going to get cold.”

      “He squirts. And this kid has got an impressive range.”

      Harrison stood and peered over the kitchen bar. His brother had unfolded a plastic pad and was changing Matthew’s diaper on the floor in front of the fireplace.

      Harrison had fond memories of other activities that had taken place on the floor in front of the fireplace.

      He would never feel the same about that area of his home.

      A knock sounded at the door. “Excuse me?” A grouchy Carrie Brent stood framed in the open doorway. “How’s a person to get any sleep around here?”

      Carrie, in her typically casual way, looked as if she’d rolled out of bed and climbed the stairs to Harrison’s floor. She wore a giant gray sweatshirt with arms so long her hands disappeared into the sleeves. The bottom edge stopped a few inches above her knees and her feet were bare.

      The contrast between the rumpled Carrie who stood in his doorway and the Carrie who’d come to his office yesterday was...interesting. Very interesting. So interesting that orange juice dripped from the paper towels Harrison held onto his running shoe before he realized he was staring.

      “Most people aren’t trying to sleep at noon on Saturday.” He tossed the soggy paper towels into the sink and ripped more off the roll.

      Carrie yawned, stretched her arms, and the hem of her sweatshirt rose. “They are if they work nights.”

      “So what do you do?” Jon asked over his shoulder after glancing at the silent Harrison.

      “I review music groups at local clubs. And if a place is new, I’ll mention the decor, tone and the sort of customers they’re trying to attract. Anyway—” she yawned again “—after I get home, I’ve got to write the reviews. I usually go to bed about ten or eleven o’clock in the morning.” Raking her hair back from her face, she padded into the room. “So what’s all this?”

      For some reason, the sound of a female voice had quieted the babies.

      For some reason, the way Carrie casually manhandled her curls had quieted Harrison.

      It was left to Jon to introduce himself. “I’m Jon, Harrison’s brother. This is—”

      “A baby!” Carrie had passed the couch and could see the front of the fireplace. Cooing, she knelt on the floor. “May I hold her?”

      “Him,” Harrison said, unwillingly reminded of the long-ago evening when he and Carrie had sat in that very spot and had eaten her vegetarian lasagna in front of the fireplace. “My nephews are visiting me for a while.”

      Jon handed a freshly diapered Matthew to Carrie.

      “Aren’t you just adorable? What’s your name?”

      “Matthew,” Jon answered.

      “Matthew, you’re just a doll. A great big doll.” Carrie’s voice had gone all high and gooey as she repeated more nonsense.

      But to Harrison’s surprise, Matthew had stopped fussing and was smiling.

      Something about seeing Carrie with the baby made Harrison want to smile, too. Matthew grabbed a handful of her dark hair. Carrie promptly retaliated by raising his shirt and tickling his tummy. The baby squealed.

      Harrison grinned at Jon, only to find his brother regarding him thoughtfully.

      Harrison guessed those thoughts concerned Carrie and whether or not there was something going on between them. “No,” he mouthed.

      “Why not?” Jon mouthed back over Carrie’s bent head.

      Because. Harrison knew there was a good reason—probably several good reasons. He simply couldn’t think of them right now, not with Carrie looking all casually soft and approachable.

      “Down!” Nathan had finished destroying his food.

      Harrison, grateful for the interruption, removed the tray. Before he could set it on the counter, Nathan arched his back, slid down the seat and landed on the floor on his well padded rump. “Joose,” he said and patted the floor. Then he picked up a stray Cheerio and stuck it into his mouth.

      Harrison grimaced.

      “Oh, yeah. I forgot to warn you about the high chair trick.” Jon had arrived in the kitchen. “I also forgot the diaper pail. I’ll snag one when I buy the plugs and the door latches.”

      Nathan got to his feet and ran toward his father. Jon picked him up. “You’re wet.” He pointed to the dark area on the front of Nathan’s overalls.

      “Joose,” Nathan said.

      “You can get going,” Harrison offered. “I’ll clean Nathan up.”

      Jon raised his eyebrows and grinned, setting Nathan on the floor. “Good luck.”

      Harrison had a feeling he wasn’t referring to the kids.

      Within moments, Harrison was alone with a half-dressed Carrie.

      “Da-dee!” Nathan shrieked.

      Okay, not alone.

      Matthew had tired of pulling Carrie’s hair and was puckering his face.

      “Hey, Harry, I think he’s hungry. Can I feed him his bottle?”

      Bottle. Right. “Uh...”

      Nathan escaped the kitchen and flung his orange-juice soaked body out the door.

      Harrison ran after him and scooped him up before he reached the stairs. Then he kicked the case of formula inside his foyer and let the door slam shut.

      “Da-dee!” Nathan made a full-body imprint of orange juice on the front door.

      “And what have we here, Matt?” Carrie was bent over a diaper bag.

      Harrison was so thrown off balance by the knowledge that he’d lost control of his house and the people currently within it, that he didn’t even stop to enjoy the view.

      Carrie stood and held up a bottle in a thermal container. “Should I heat it up first?” she asked.

      “Uh, whatever,” Harrison said as he wrestled a crying Nathan into the spare bedroom, tried to open his suitcase with one hand and keep Nathan from spreading orange juice with the other.

      Eventually he succeeded in undressing Nathan, only to realize that all the diapers were in the living room.

      He returned to the living room to find that all was quiet. Carrie stood in front of the windows, swaying slightly and feeding Matthew a bottle. She smiled at Harrison, all traces of her earlier grumpiness gone.

      “You’ve done that before,” Harrison commented.

Скачать книгу