Further, unfortunately, I’ve never successfully baked a thing. I’m allergic to eggs, and when it comes to courage? Well, I’m not sure I got the lion’s share of that growing up.
Maybe someday I’ll think of a viable excuse, but until then, there’s sushi, noodles, and bubble baths to keep me company. I flip on Netflix, drown out to the afternoon evening news, something I find equally depressing and intriguing while I eat my dinner. When I’m full, I pack away half of it for leftovers. Then I fill my wineglass and grab my Kindle. It’s bath time, and then a night of solo Netflix and chill for me.
As I make my way down the small hallway to my bathroom, my ears perk up at a soft, odd noise. I give a quick scan around the living area and entryway and I double check that the television is off. It’s not sirens from outside, at least not that I can tell, but it seems to be coming from inside my apartment.
Like someone screaming, or crying, but far away. It’s muffled and soft, but it has to be loud for me to hear it. Other than his door slamming when he comes and goes, my unknown and hot neighbor is usually quiet. The strange sound grows louder, and I can’t brush away my curiosity. I set down my glass of wine and peer out the door.
What in the heck? My jaw almost hits the wood floor surface at my feet. I pull back and rub my eyes. There has to be a mistake to what I’ve seen.
Without further thinking, I throw open my door and hurry to his. A blanket draped over the car seat sitting outside his door moves. The ear-piercing squealing sound is no longer unknown.
It’s a baby. In a car seat. Left outside my neighbor’s door and there’s absolutely no one else in sight.
What in the hell is going on?
This baby can’t keep screaming like this. Its cheeks are already bright red, turning purple and huge tears fall down its cheeks, so I fling off the blue and white checked blanket, figure out how to unstrap the straps from his chest and gently lift him out. I’m guessing it’s a boy based on all the blue. Hard to tell when babies are so small, and he is small. It’s been awhile since I babysat infants, but I worked afternoons at a daycare when I was in high school and always loved being in the infant room.
“Shhh. Hey, little guy,” I croon in his ear and gather him up. My body has gone lava hot and I look back down the hall toward the elevator. There’s not a single soul in sight, but he was left here for a reason. “It’s okay.”
I bounce the baby in my arms and readjust the blanket wrapped around his legs. When I do, an envelope flutters to the floor and I grab it without thinking.
Mikah.
It’s the name scrolled on the outside of it which makes my brows pinch. Have I finally figured out the name of my hottie neighbor? Or the baby in my arms?
Only one way to figure it out.
I turn toward the door and lift my hand to knock. I definitely should have stopped by before to ask for that sugar or egg.
This is not the way I want to meet the guy who makes me wet on sight.
Chapter Three
Mikah
* * *
Water runs down my arms and drips from my hair. I’m wrapped in a towel at the waist, clinging to it at the hip as I race down the hallway. The incessant pounding on my door began when I was in the shower and hasn’t stopped since I finally got sick of trying to relax and ignore it.
There’s no reason for it either since the building has security. No one should be allowed inside without me being notified. But it doesn’t always work perfectly even though the security is one of the main reasons why I bought the place.
My thighs burn from the quick movements. I probably shouldn’t have put in the extra time once I arrived back home, but I’m determined to be the best. Always. Despite the sacrifice. Still, I need ice, a heating pad, and a gallon of water to rehydrate.
I reach the front door, tighten my fist at my hip where my towel sits and fling the door open.
“What is wrong?”
The pretty girl I have seen ducking inside her apartment across the hall whips around. Her blonde hair comes first, tied back at her neck and her green eyes are huge.
She is so pretty. No. That word does not say enough. She is verkelig smuk. Very beautiful. Vidunderlig.
Immediately catching my gaze is a squished up, red face, with huge dark eyes and an odd-shaped nose. That is all I can see peeking out from beneath a blue and white striped hat.
I have never seen her with him before. She seems so young. Around my age, I thought. My mouth drops open and I point. “You have a baby?”
She is snuggling the baby close to her and at my words, she moves the baby away. Her expression changes into something I don’t like. Not even a little bit.
It feels like doom.
Like the look on my father’s face the day I didn’t make the junior league hockey team despite being the only kid my age invited to tryout—two years younger than anyone else.
That look should not be so familiar on a stranger.
Whatever it is. It is not good.
“No,” she says. It’s the first word she’s ever spoken to me other than hello, but it’s as pretty as the rest of her. “I think… well, I think he’s yours?”
“What?” I’m already stepping back. I had only opened the door far enough to poke my head through but as I move back my door opens. “I do not have a baby.”
“I’m guessing the note I found when I heard this little guy crying out here is going to say you’re wrong about that.”
What note crazy neighbor lady? Before I can ask, a white envelope in one of her hands is held directly in front of my face. I reach for it, and at the same time, get a drastic waft of cool air across my waist.
“Oh shit,” the woman says, holding a baby… gaze dropping to my—
“Shit!” I crouch down and grab the towel, holding it in front of me. I am now naked in front of a woman claiming I have a baby. I’m pretty sure I passed out in the shower. I had to have slammed my head into the marble tile and this is all a dream.
Everything since I opened the door is entirely impossible. Plus, I’m now naked. If I could write a list of top ten worst first impressions to make on a pretty woman, I’m pretty sure this will take the number one slot.
Not to mention my naked state.
“Oh!” She spins, putting her back to me. The baby in her arms starts crying and I am speechless.
One weekend. I was careful. She claimed she was too.
What in the world am I supposed to do? There is no playbook for situations like this. And that’s all I know. Studying hockey. Studying games. Being better. Faster. Stronger. People… they are not where I succeed.
“Sorry. I am so sorry about that. But that—” I point at the squished up face. “But this cannot be my baby.”
Her blonde hair sways as she bounces the baby who is now crying louder. “Well, there was a note in the baby’s blanket. He was crying outside your door and there is a diaper bag next to it. And like I said, he was outside your door, not mine, so…”
“I haven’t…” I close my mouth.
I am not admitting to this girl who I’ve always thought is so pretty that I have only had sex with one woman.
One weekend. My twenty-third birthday. The weekend my teammates finally convinced me to let go. It was no secret before then I was a virgin. I’ve played for the Carolina Ice Kings since I was twenty. Hockey is my life. Always has been. It’s been my sole focus. But our season was off to a rocky start. I wasn’t playing well. And for the first time, I allowed myself to be pulled into the mayhem of after game partying. I allowed Newman and Maddox, my teammates, to drag me to a bar… and then I brought a woman home with me.