weeks, he’d alternated between suppressed rage and numbness. He’d just assumed that things like teasing and smiling were behaviors he wouldn’t be revisiting for a very long time to come and were, consequently, tucked away deep in his past.
Calista swallowed. Her mouth was inexplicably—not to mention incredibly—dry.
“I see,” she replied, doing her best not to appear as affected as she was by this man.
At bottom, she tried to tell herself, individuals were all just a bunch of skin, tissues, organs and a great deal of water, haphazardly thrown together to form an arbitrary whole.
But, oh, the composition that had gone into making Jake Castro, she couldn’t help thinking, growing warm all over again.
The next second, she was chastising herself for a second time. What was she, twelve? No, she was twenty-two, a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, on a clearly cut path that was to ultimately lead to some sort of a position with the local government, possibly even an elected one. All of which meant that she couldn’t afford to act like some starry-eyed juvenile just because the man standing next to her with the baby in his arms didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on him, even in his spare back pocket.
“Ah, lemon juice,” she declared, spotting the little green plastic bottle with a picture of a lemon on it tucked away in the far end of the refrigerator door.
Saved by a grocery item, Calista thought, mocking herself sarcastically.
Bottle in hand, she looked around for somewhere she could continue this baptism-by-lemon-juice process. At first glance, nothing seemed to stand out.
“Do you know if your sister has a large plastic bowl she isn’t using, or a sink I could take over for, say, a few hours?” she asked him hopefully.
The question caught Jake off guard. His eyes shifted to the shirt, then back to her. “This is going to take a few hours?”
“It might,” Calista allowed, then qualified. “It can be sooner and I’m not going to hang out here the entire time waiting,” she promised, guessing that was probably what he was afraid of. “I just need somewhere I can leave your shirt to soak without having it disturbed or in the way.”
For the time being, until he could find his own place, Erin had insisted that he remain with her and her husband. When he and Marlie had arrived and Corey had chimed in with the same invitation—and as far as Jake could tell, his brother-in-law was actually sincere—Jake found himself agreeing. Secretly, he had to admit that he was relieved. It was always easier looking for a place if he had somewhere that served as his home base until he found something suitable for himself and the baby.
“There’s a bathroom off the guest room that I’m using,” he volunteered. “You could leave my shirt soaking in the sink.”
Calista grinned, nodding. “Sounds like a plan.” She gestured vaguely toward the front of the house. “Lead the way.”
Marlie made a gurgling noise as her father turned on his heel. The next moment, Calista saw him shiver. She guessed at what had happened even before he told the baby, “At least this time there’s nothing for you to get dirty.” Marlie had spat up on his bare shoulder.
With that, Jake led the way to the stairs.
No doubt about it, Calista thought as she followed behind him and walked up the stairs to his room, the man looked good coming and going.
There went her stomach again, contracting into a knot.
Get a grip, she ordered herself. The man needs someone to help him out, not to drool all over him. He’s already got the latter covered.
When they came to the landing, Jake brought her over to the second door on the right. The door was closed. He opened it, then walked in and nodded toward the bathroom located over in the far corner of the room. There were four other guest rooms in the large house, but this one was the largest. Erin had told him that she thought this would be more suitable to his needs, especially with the baby.
“Right in through there,” he told Calista. He pointed in the direction of the bathroom as he stopped by the bureau. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the latest deposit of baby drool from his shoulder. That done, he absently shoved the handkerchief into his back pocket.
Setting Marlie down in her portacrib for a moment, Jake went over to the closet. He was still in the process of unpacking, but there were a few shirts already hanging there. He grabbed the one closest to him, a blue pullover that, once on, brought out the color of his eyes more intensely.
His stained shirt still clutched in her hand, Calista forced herself to look away and head toward the bathroom. She couldn’t help but notice that the room looked as if it’d had an encounter with a tornado, and lost.
“Still unpacking?” Calista asked, raising her voice so that he could hear her.
“Still hunting for things,” he amended. “Well, I’m decent again,” he said to his daughter after he’d pulled on the new shirt. “Try to keep your lunch down for at least a few minutes,” he urged her, picking up the baby again.
Marlie cooed in response, as if she understood him and was telling him that she’d do her best to try.
The noise made him smile. Funny how outwardly perfectly insignificant things like a sound coming from a seven-month-old infant could make him feel so warm inside. He supposed this was what being a father was all about, celebrating the small, personal things that no one else was privy to or could begin to comprehend.
He looked over toward the bathroom. The woman he’d just agreed to allow to watch over his daughter was still in there, but he wasn’t hearing any sounds.
“Let’s go see what’s up,” he said to his daughter as he crossed to the other end of the bedroom. “So how’s it coming?” he asked Calista, raising his voice.
Calista glanced at him over her shoulder. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, once again holding Marlie in his arms, and mercifully wearing a shirt again.
Now if only that fact would register with her racing pulse and make it settle down, she thought.
“It’s coming along,” she repeated.
To prove her point, she picked up the shirt and held it up over the sink to allow him to see for himself. She’d filled the basin with a little water to dilute the concentrated lemon juice and it was dripping down as she raised the shirt for his perusal. The spot that Marlie had branded with a gooey, milky-white substance was actually growing fainter.
“Like I said,” she repeated, pleased, “sometimes it takes a little longer than other times. But it looks like you won’t have to throw this one away.”
He joined her at the sink for a closer look. It really was fading, he thought, impressed.
“So that’s all I have to do?” he asked, his eyes shifting to look at her. “Just pour lemon juice on it and let it soak? Because I’ve got about ten shirts that really need work,” he confessed. “None of them would really come clean, even after I threw them into the washing machine a couple of times.” He was on the verge of throwing them all out. Tossing out shirts after wearing them only once or twice wasn’t exactly something he could afford to do indefinitely.
Calista looked a little skeptical as she asked him, “When you washed your shirts, you didn’t have the setting on hot, did you?”
Damned if he knew. “The machine has settings?” he asked.
“Why don’t you pile them up for me and I’ll take a look at your shirts the next time you have me over to watch Marlie?” she suggested.
Initially he had balked at asking for help or letting anyone know that he wasn’t up to handling this situation he found himself in. But after closer scrutiny, maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad deal after all, Jake thought. If this cheerful woman with the sparkling brown eyes