Page 16 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

RORY

I s it hot in here? It feels hot in here.

Scanning the venue, I fold my arms, unsure what to do or where to go.

It seems everyone’s on the dance floor with their significant others, and Dodger’s MIA, which leaves me feeling like a fish out of water.

When I spot my mom taking a breather at one of the tables near the back, I slip around a few white linen-covered tables, snatch a champagne flute from one of the caterers, and plop down on the closest seat.

“Hi.”

She smiles back at me while patting her temples and chest with a linen napkin. “Hey, babes. How are ya?”

“Good,” I return. “This is…” My gaze flutters around the crowded room. “Something else.”

Her laugh is light and airy as she snatches my champagne and takes a sip. “Yes. Yes it is.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah. Just took a break from dancing with your dad.”

My eyes thin as I take in the haze hidden in her expression. “You sure? ”

Her nod is slow but genuine. She reaches over, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Just missing your brother.”

My bottom lip wobbles before I suck it between my teeth and bite down, fighting the urge to pull out the hanky Jaxon loaned me earlier from my clutch. “Me, too.”

“He would’ve loved this,” she continues.

Her attention trails around the beautifully decorated space.

“Would’ve been on the dance floor all night.

Would’ve said an incredible best man’s speech.

Not that Reeves won’t knock it out of the park.

” She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m all up in my feels today. The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Stealing another glass of champagne from a caterer’s tray since my mom took mine, I let the bubbles fizz on my tongue, then rest my chin on my palm. “I think it’s expected.”

“Me, too,” she admits. “Still bittersweet.”

I nod my agreement. “Definitely.”

“Have I told you how grateful I am for you lately?”

“Only about a thousand times,” I tease. Giving in, I tug the hanky out and dab at the corner of my eye in hopes of not ruining my makeup, thanks to the oh so familiar burn behind my eyes. “I’m grateful for you, too.”

“Hey, Rore,” my Aunt Ashlyn interrupts.

I turn toward the familiar voice, finding one of her grandbabies on her hip.

Scratch that. It isn’t just any grandbaby.

It's Jaxon’s daughter. She’s so little. Maybe six or seven months old.

With a pair of dimples, baby blue eyes, and a pretty little bow on her head, she’s probably the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.

My stomach bottoms out as I stare at her.

Her tiny hands. Her chubby cheeks. Her fancy little dress.

We haven’t been formally introduced, but I saw her on Uncle Macklin’s lap during the ceremony.

She looked grouchy then, and she doesn’t look too happy now, either.

Tearing my attention from the adorably grumpy baby, I push the chair beside mine out from under the table and motion to it. “Hey, Aunt Ash. Take a seat.” The baby’s face scrunches with another soft cry, fanning my concern. “Is she okay?”

With the patience of a saint, Ashlyn simply smiles, patting the baby’s back as she sits beside me. “Yeah, she’s fine. Tired, but fine.”

“Reminds us of you,” my mom chimes in.

My brows pull. “What do you mean?”

“Poppy’s a picky softie. Just like someone else we know,” Aunt Ashlyn clarifies, though she’s kind enough to soften the blow with another knowing smile. “The only person Poppy doesn’t fuss around is Jax. Even her mom struggles to calm her down when she’s really worked up.”

“Just like someone else we know,” my mom repeats, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Go figure, the only one to calm you down when you were this little was the very same Jaxon.”

I force a smile, tossing her own words back at her. “Go figure.”

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Aunt Ash interjects.

I glance down at my dress and smooth out the silky fabric. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” she gushes. “I swear it’s like I’m looking at your mom from twenty years ago. Well, minus the tattoos.”

With a laugh, I smooth out my dress again and deflect, “I don’t know about that.

” My mom was and is quite the looker. Hell, she’s drop-dead gorgeous even now.

Maybe it’s the willowy build. Maybe it’s how she turns heads when she walks into a room and holds herself in conversations.

Maybe it’s her wide smile, thick but still silky hair, and charming personality.

Honestly, it’s probably the combination of all of that really makes my mom one of the most incredible women on the planet, and I have no idea how she birthed me.

When I was in middle school, she used to joke that as soon as I gained some confidence, I’d be able to wrap whoever I wanted around my finger.

Instead, I curled in on myself, unable to look the opposite sex in the eye, let alone build a connection with them.

Fool me once and all that, I suppose. Not that it mattered.

I smooth out my dress once more, grateful for the distraction. Third time’s the charm.

Shifting the fussy Poppy from one knee to the other, Aunt Ashlyn’s expression sours. “Oof. I’m pretty sure this girl needs a bum change. Rory, will you hold her while I track down where her dad hid her diaper bag?”

She doesn’t wait for my response. She simply hands me the fussy baby like Poppy isn’t a ticking time bomb who could explode at any second.

I take her in my arms, rub my hand along her little spine, and rock back and forth in my seat in hopes of calming her down.

The same wrinkled forehead and pouty lips greet me as she squirms in my arms, unamused by the change to her new caregiver.

“Sh, sh, sh,” I coo. “It’s okay, Baby Girl. It’s okay.”

Another cry slips out of her, and her tiny hands find my hair, gripping the strands.

Instead of tugging like I expect, she tries to bring the fistful of hair to her mouth.

I let out a quiet laugh before grasping her wrist to prevent her from gumming my hair to death.

“What are you doin’, silly girl? That’s mine. ”

She coos back at me and curls closer, making me feel like I’m worth a million bucks. Seriously, she is the cutest thing ever.

“Well, would you look at that,” my mom murmurs. “Seems karma’s struck again.”

My attention strays from Poppy for the shortest of seconds to give my mom a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“We always joked how you and Pops are alike.” She smiles softly and reaches closer, dragging her fingers along Poppy’s cheek. “Very particular with your people.”

I shy back slightly, unsure if the discomfort has anything to do with how closely she hit the nail on the head or how far off base she is. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m that particular.”

With a knowing look, my mom says, “Sure, you aren’t.” She glances back at Poppy. “This, however, I didn’t see coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen this little girl calm down with anyone else but her daddy.” Her gaze catches on someone behind me, and she beams. “Speaking of which. Hello, Jax.”

My heart stalls in my chest as I look up and over my shoulder, finding Jaxon Thorne’s sole focus pinned on me and only me.

The look makes me squirm, and I can’t decide if the twisting in the pit of my stomach is because I feel like I was just caught doing something I shouldn’t, or if it’s because I was just caught doing something I should.

I’m not sure which option I prefer, either.

Not when it makes the man look at me like this.

Despite the cotton filling my mouth, I whisper, “Hi.”

Instead of replying, Jaxon’s focus falls to the little girl in my arms.

“I know, right?” my mom quips. “It’s a modern-day miracle.”

As if only now realizing we aren’t alone, Jaxon forces a smile, shifting the diaper bag he’s holding to his opposite shoulder.

Whatever I’d glimpsed in his handsome gaze is swallowed by a light, carefree expression as he turns to my mom.

“Has my mom seen this? ‘Cause she’s about to be jealous as hell.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” my mom returns, though I don’t believe her in the slightest. Not when she’s as close with her friends as I am with Tatum .

Normally, I wouldn’t mind. And to be honest, I still shouldn’t. But the more the spotlight hangs on me and Jax, the more I want to curl into a ball and disappear. Which is why I should leave. Right now.

Unsure what to do, I start shifting a curled-up Poppy away from my chest so I can get the hell out of here. “Here?—”

“Don’t.” Jaxon’s chest expands on a deep breath, and he takes the seat Aunt Ashlyn vacated. “She looks comfortable.”

Without a word, I settle back in the chair, keeping Poppy against me as she sticks her hands in my mouth.

“I’m going to find your father,” my mom announces. “Jax, keep my daughter company, okay?”

His stare holds mine as he dips his chin. “Sure thing, Aunt Mia.”

When she leaves, my pulse gallops like a jackhammer. I swear it’s so loud there’s no way Jaxon can’t hear it over the music playing.

“She’s adorable,” I murmur.

“Thanks.”

“Looks like you,” I add.

His mouth lifts. “You think?”

I nod. “I do.”

“Hey.” A buzzed Dodger plops down in the chair on my opposite side, interrupting us…or saving me from an awkward conversation. Honestly, I’m not sure which is more accurate.

“Who’s this little nugget?” Dodge asks, grabbing my glass and tossing back what’s left of my champagne.

Seriously, what is it with everyone stealing my drinks?

Jaxon shifts forward. “This is my daughter, Poppy.”

“Hey, Poppy.” Dodger’s smile softens as he sets the empty champagne flute down and leans closer to the baby in my arms. “She’s so small. ”

“Yeah, only in the third percentile at her last appointment,” Jaxon returns.

“No shit?” Dodger’s brows kick up. “That’s tiny.”

“Yeah,” Jaxon mutters. Not in an angry way. It’s more like he’s…confused or dejected, though I don’t know why.