No Chance by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 29: BRETT

“An ear infection?” I repeat as relief courses through me.

The doctor nods. “I’ll prescribe an antibiotic and he should start feeling better after two or three doses. Acetaminophen will help with the pain and make sure he’s getting plenty of rest.”

“Is he contagious?” Hannah asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “If he develops a cold from the infection, that will be contagious. But the infection itself is not.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Hannah says, and then the doc gives a few more instructions. We both let out deep sighs of relief as a nurse returns with the meds and discharge papers, and we’re on our way back to the hotel a little before two in the morning.

Her words come back to me in the car as we travel back. I don’t know which risk is bigger—trying this with her or not giving it a try.

Every relationship I’ve ever been in has failed with the exception of the guys in my band. I was in other bands. Those failed. I tried to stay with the same women longer than a single night. It failed every time. Even my relationship with my family is one big fat fucking fail.

Hannah clutched the sleeping baby to her chest in the hospital, and I had the sudden urge to hug him to mine, too. I’ve only held him a few times, but the relief is enough to tell me that somehow, I care. Out of nowhere, this kid and this chick walked into my life, a life I was perfectly content with, and they tilted it.

I thought there was no chance in hell that I’d ever want kids, but now that I have one...I want to get to know him. I want to experience fatherhood. I want to be a guy this kid can look up to instead of the mess I’d allowed myself to become. I want to drop everything to be there for him, and not just when he needs me like I did tonight, but always.

And maybe some of that starts with giving this thing with Hannah a try. If we communicate our expectations and neither of us go in blind, maybe we can figure out a way to make it work. And if it doesn’t go well, maybe we can leave it behind us and still find a way to make our situation work.

She kisses the top of the baby’s head just before she lays him in the crib every night. Once we’re back at the hotel, I stand beside her for this usual routine. I nod toward him, and she hands him to me. I hug him close to me, and then I lay him down in the crib.

Her eyes are on me when I turn to look at her, and hers are full of emotion. She turns away from me and heads out to the living area of our suite, swiping at her eyes. When she turns to face me out there, her eyes are red and I can see the emotion written all over her pretty face.

I move toward her and pull her into my arms, and her arms come immediately around my waist. I lean down to breathe in her coconut hair as I try to act like I’m simply letting out a sigh of relief after the scare we just had.

But it’s more than that. So much more. It’s the comfort of having her close. The coconut calms me, and the feel of her frame against mine quiets the tempest.

She breathes in deeply and lets it go, too, and I wonder whether she was doing the same thing I was in drawing in a sip of my scent through her nose.

“I’m glad he’s okay,” I murmur.

“Me too. We did the right thing bringing him in.”

“I don’t know how to be a parent,” I say, and I don’t try to hide the fear in my tone. I want to expose what’s in my heart the same way she did to me at the hospital.

“Neither do I. But I think maybe nobody does. It seems to be a learn as you go kind of thing.”

“Kind of like life,” I mutter.

She nods against me and then she pulls back a bit to look me in the eyes, her arms still wrapped around me and mine around her. “Exactly like that.”

Only one dim lamp in the corner lights the entire room, but I can still see the emotion on her pretty face. When I mentioned to her how different she is than the usual plastics I’ve been with, I failed to mention her beauty. I didn’t want to make it about appearances because her physical beauty isn’t what draws me to her.

But it’s still there, luring me in ways I hadn’t expected the night I named her Mousy Chick in my phone. She’s not mousy at all. In fact, it’s her quiet beauty that’s one of the most beautiful things about her. She doesn’t need big fake tits or fillers in her lips, and she doesn’t need weekly facials or manicures. She just simply needs to be, and that’s gorgeous in and of itself.

Her eyes flick down to my lips, and I can’t help but think how goddamn much I want to kiss her. How much I need to kiss her.

I reach up and cup my hand around her neck, her skin soft and delicate beneath my calloused hands. Her eyes flick back to mine, and hers have the smallest bit of fear in them as they heat over with anticipation. I lower my face toward hers, and I nuzzle her nose with mine for just a beat as my chest tightens.

She may not be the mousy girl I first thought she was, but she’s still a bit like a dear caught in headlights. I need to take this slow even though every nerve in my body screams at me to get inside her any way I can. Mouth on mouth first, and then we’ll work on the rest.

Slowly.

I finally brush my lips to hers, and that lip gloss she wears is coconut flavored and Jesus Christ I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at another coconut again without thinking of her and getting a boner.

But there’s something more at play here than just being turned on. I feel it in the knots in my stomach—knots I’m not sure I’ve felt before around a woman. At least not in the last decade. Maybe back when I was a high school junior and I asked senior Jasmine Kelly to the prom and I tried to kiss her during our first dance.

My fingers curl around her neck then move up into her hair as my lips are firm against hers. We kiss with our mouths closed a few seconds, and then I press gently at the seam of her lips with my tongue as I open my mouth to hers. She gives me access as she moves slowly and tentatively, but then she opens her mouth and moves her tongue to brush mine.

She tightens her hold around my waist as my one hand grips her hip and the other grips her hair, and God do I want this to lead into a bed, but I can’t. Not with her. Not tonight. She deserves more than a quick fuck and duck, particularly after we both overcame the terror of taking a baby to a hospital.

And I will give her more, just not tonight.

Besides, half the fun of all this will be the anticipation...if by fun I actually mean torture.

I keep the kiss slow and sensual, and then even though I feel like I could kiss her forever, I taper it off. I close my mouth, and we share another few beats of lip on lip, and then I pull back. I look down at her, and her eyes are still closed as if she’s savoring the moment, her lips are just a little puffy from our kiss, her cheeks are rosy, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life.

I mentally record the image for the days I know are ahead—the ones where the fear of a relationship trample over the potential rewards of one, the ones where I’m tempted by somebody else, the ones where we fight over how to parent a kid that belongs to me even though she’s far better for him.

I know those days are ahead, and at this moment given how I’m starting to feel about her, I hope I’m strong enough to find a way through them.