Stretching and glancing around, I try to forget about the way his strong arm felt against my cheek. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear him.”
“Me either, honestly. He was not very happy until I got him changed and out of his carrier. He’s been content as hell just hanging out here on my chest,” Mack says, glancing down and smiling. “I’m gonna piss him off again, though. We’re getting ready to land, so I’m gonna have to put him in his seat.”
Mack moves Oliver from his chest to the carrier seat, carefully and slowly. Even though it hasn’t been two weeks since the baby came to live with his father, Mack definitely appears more at ease with handling the child. It shows with how quickly he gets him into position within the seat and the harness secured and tightened.
Over the next few minutes, we land in Ohio and taxi to our gate. An attendant meets us at the door to help us disembark and collect our belongings. I feel guilty with the quantity of bags we brought, especially when most of it belongs to the baby, but Mack and I wanted to be prepared for anything. This is our first outing with a one-month-old, and while we may have overpacked, it all felt necessary at the time.
We’re loaded up into two awaiting SUVs. Mack, Oliver, and I pile into the second vehicle, along with the suit from the head office. We follow behind the other car and are taken to a hotel next to the racetrack. I’ve never been to Mid-Ohio, so I’m eager to take in everything around me. I’m actually itching to pull out my camera. There are people loitering the sidewalks, and the sun is peeking over the buildings, casting shadows on the street. The natural light is absolutely perfect right now.
“You coming with us?” Mack says, standing beside his open door, a grin spreading across his face.
A quick look around shows we’ve already parked in front of the hotel, everyone else already filed out. “Oh.” I reach for my handle and step outside. The summer air is warm, but not too bad. It’s actually great racing weather.
“Let me guess, taking photos in your mind?” Mack asks, as he releases the carrier from the seat belt and stretches the sun visor over Oliver’s head.
“Guilty,” I reply, ducking my head as my cheeks turn pink. I don’t know why I’m suddenly blushing, but I am. Maybe it’s because he just reminded me how well he once knew me—or still knows me, apparently.
“Maybe later we can take a walk around and you can snap a few pictures,” he offers, grabbing the diaper bag and shutting the vehicle door. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
“Do you want me to grab anything?” I ask, making sure I have my small carry-on with my camera.
“No, valet will bring it up to our room,” he tells me, leading the way into the hotel. I spy Colton and the suit heading our way from the front counter, the hotel clerk clearly very happy she just took care of the Colton Donavan. In fact, she’s already got her cell phone out and snatching a photo of his backside, completely oblivious to his wife and son standing right there by him.
“You’re in twelve ten,” Colton says, handing a keycard to Mack.
“Thanks,” he replies as the boss hands out the rest of the cards and then leads us all to the bank of elevators.
We all get off on the same floor and head to our respective rooms. I follow behind Mack and stop when we get to the door. He turns to me, a look of concern on his gorgeous face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Colton we’d be fine sharing a room. I didn’t want him to have to pay for two. If you don’t feel comfortable sharing, I’ll get you a room, no problem,” he rushes to say.
“It’s fine,” I reply without putting any thought into it. Is it fine? Sure. I trust Mack or I wouldn’t be here, but at the same time, being cooped up in an actual room together may not be in our best interest. Not because I don’t trust him…but because I don’t trust myself not to throw myself at him and beg him to take me against the wall.
“If you’re sure,” he replies, watching me for my reaction.
“Absolutely. I mean, we’re both adults, right?”
Why do I sound so breathy?
Mack opens the hotel room door and allows me to enter first. It’s a large room, probably a small suite. There’s a small seating area with a large television and a half-wall partition. On the other side of the wall is the sleeping area. There are two queen-sized beds with plenty of room between them, nothing like your usual hotel room. This one has space…and the largest bathroom I’ve ever seen.
“Holy cow,” I gasp, taking in the massive bathroom. There’s a walk-in shower with gorgeous tile and glass doors, as well as a big garden tub. “I could swim laps in that tub!”
Mack snorts. “You and baths. You always loved them, with lots of bubbles.”
“They’re one of the purest joys in life, Mack,” I tell him, setting my bag down on the closest bed.
He follows suit, setting the baby carrier on the other bed and taking Oliver out. “I can’t get over just sitting there in your own filth.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s dumb. It’s not like I roll around out on the dirt track before getting into the tub.”
When he doesn’t reply, I glance his way, only to find his eyes…on my ass.
He looks up and doesn’t bat an eye at the fact I just busted him checking me out. In fact, he seems very relaxed and maybe a bit smug about it. There’s something quite sexy about a man holding a baby. Maybe it’s just him. Perhaps it’s the way Mack looks holding his son.
I keep myself busy and try not to think about the man I’m sharing a hotel room with by unpacking my suitcase. When my belongings are in a drawer, the closet, or on the bathroom vanity counter, I pull my trusty camera out of my bag. I’ve only used it a handful of times, mostly to snap a few pictures of Oliver, but I’ve managed to grab a few candids of father and son together without him noticing.
With my camera in hand, I head over to the bed, where Oliver is stretched out, kicking his pudgy little legs. I bring my beloved film camera up and press the button, the familiar sound of the shutter filling the hotel room. I smile down as Oliver stares up at me, his arms flailing around. It’s not his hungry freakout, but one of excitement.
“Why are you so enthusiastic?” I ask, bringing my camera up and taking another few pictures.
“You still using that old thing?” Mack asks, standing off to the side and watching me photograph his son.
I glance at my vintage Nikon F2. These babies were manufactured from 1971 to 1980, and at the time, considered one of the best professional 35mm film cameras on the market. I found it at a flea market, thrown in a box of puzzles, when I was fourteen. The moment I saw it, I had to have it. My dad haggled the guy down from fifty bucks to twenty, and we left that day with more than just a camera. I found my passion, my calling.
“Well, she’s still as amazing as she was back in the day, so why would I get rid of her?” I ask, snapping another photo of Oliver.
“I guess I thought you’d use the digital one more,” he replies, still casually leaning against the wall.
When I turn around, I bring the camera to my face, center him in the view finder, and snap a picture. “Digital is great for Saturday night races. I can edit them on my laptop and upload them quickly in a massive group. But there’s nothing like taking photos with a film camera, not knowing if they’re any good or not until they’re developed. Plus, you know how much I love to develop film,” I remind, a happy little smile on my lips.