Somebody's Baby by Annie Jones Page B

the temple, trying not to allow herself to imagine it might be the very last time she could ever do that. “I’ll slip away and get home after lunch.”
    “We’ll be there, Josie.”
    “I want to believe you,” she said so softly that she knew the man retreating through the back door could not possibly have heard her.

Chapter Five

    “P oor baby.” Josie looked at her grinning son with his T-shirt on backward and inside out, only one sock on and wearing a cereal bowl on his head like a hat.
    “Hey!” Adam, sitting on the floor in front of the couch beside the baby, fooled with the waistband of the clean but haphazard diaper, trying to get it to look right. He stood up and surveyed his work. “I think he’s in pretty great shape considering I’ve never taken care of anything more demanding than my career or my Harley.”
    Nathan waved a wooden spoon like a regal scepter and babbled his favorite “ya-ya-ya.”
    “I didn’t mean Nathan. I meant you.” She laughed and trailed her gaze over the man.
    Barefoot, baby powder smudged up and down his jeans, his once crisp business shirt had a row of tape—the kind Josie kept handy for when the disposable diapers came unstuck—down the front placard. His neck and the hollows of his cheeks were ruddy. The side of his hair that wasn’t jutting straight up was globbed down by a blob of orange baby food.
    “What?” He held his arms out.
    “Nothing.” She put her hand to the tip of her nose to hide her laughter, then added. “I like the new look. Takes business casual to a whole new level.”
    “Guess I could use a little…” He whisked the back of his hand down his jeans, creating a cloud of baby powder. Clearly pleased with that, he yanked the tape off, muttering, “Kid kept trying to eat the buttons, so I improvised a safety measure.”
    “Nice.” She nodded. “And the reason for the mashed carrots in your hair?”
    “The…” He thrust his fingers alongside his temple and raked them straight back. He winced. He withdrew his hand, stared at the orange goo there and exhaled in one exhausted groan. “I had no idea what I was getting into, obviously.”
    “You did fine, I’m sure.” Better than Josie had suspected he would do. Her house was not in disarray. Her child was happy. “You hungry?”
    “Am I ever.” He reached down and picked up the baby, who promptly whapped him on the head with the wooden spoon. He didn’t even miss a beat as he followed Josie from the room. “I didn’t want to rummage around in your kitchen. But I did steal a taste of Nathan’s baby food.”
    “You didn’t!”
    “I did.” He made a face then backed up a few steps and slid Nathan into his high chair.
    “How was it?”
    “You know how some dishes—exotic food, delicacies, specialty dishes—a lot of times are better than they look?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Well, baby food isn’t one of those dishes.” He worked his tongue around as if he was still trying to get the taste off. “When does he start eating real food?”
    She laughed then bent to place a kiss on her son’s cheek. “His diet is designed to help him grow healthy and strong.”
    “That’s fine for him, but I’m already healthy and strong.”
    He certainly was. “Well, lucky for you I didn’t take that into account when I made this plate up for you. I had taste in mind.” She held up the “to go” box and flipped up the lid. The aroma of meat loaf and hot rolls and green beans and fried okra filled the room. The collection of some of her specialties was probably not the usual rich man’s meal, but if the gossip proved true, Adam was no longer a rich man. Surely he’d appreciate the effort if not the flavor.
    “Mmm. That smells wonderful.” He took the container and inhaled deeply. “Fried okra? I love fried okra. My mom used to make that.”
    “Really?” Josie took a step, slid open a drawer and retrieved a fork to hand him, all the time managing to keep the plastic grocery-style bag