Page 9

Chapter nine

Rebecca

“You have got to be kidding me right now.”

I pull my pillow over my head, but it does nothing to drown out the crying baby. I was wrong about the apartment next door being empty.

So very wrong, apparently.

For the past three nights, a wailing baby has woken me up between two and three. Tonight, unlike the other nights, the crying hasn’t stopped after a few minutes, and I can’t fall back to sleep.

Getting to my feet, I pull on a sweatshirt and stomp through my apartment, stopping only to grab my keys and step into a pair of sandals. I fling my door open, march over to my neighbor’s, and bang on their door.

The crying stops, and my anger starts to fade.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come over here.

Maybe they didn’t hear me knocking and I can go back to my apartment.

Pretend I wasn’t over here angry at three in the morning.

Before I can move, the door opens, and my breath catches in my throat because Holt Abbott stands before me, wearing dark-gray athletic shorts slung low on his hips and holding a tiny baby.

He rears back. “Dr. Jansen,” he stammers, glancing around the hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“Rebecca, just Rebecca.” The words come out of my mouth before I realize it. “I live there.” I point toward my apartment .

My eyes trail down his body. I know I shouldn’t.

He’s a patient and, technically, a coworker.

But man, is he hot, all hard muscles and lines.

I mean, I know this. I’ve seen the players without their shirts on before, but I never paid much attention to their appearances unless it was related to treating them, but now, I can’t help but see how hot Holt Abbott is.

But there’s nothing wrong with admiring him, right?

Admiring all the work he puts into his body. That’s all I’m doing.

“I didn’t know you had a baby.” I wince as the words leave my mouth. Smooth. Real smooth.

Before he can say anything, the wailing starts again. His shoulders droop, and he steps back, opening the door wider.

“You might as well come in. Hazel doesn’t like it when I stand still.”

I gape at him but silently follow him into his apartment. Well, shit, now I feel bad for all the times I’ve blasted Billy Joel thinking this apartment was empty. I hope he doesn’t hate me. At the same time, he could have left a note, knocked on the door, or something. I would have turned it down.

He leads me into the living room and over to the couch where he shoves the laundry that’s strewn all over it to one side and gestures for me to take a seat.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Probably need to clean up.”

He lets out a hollow laugh, looking at the empty baby bottles and take-out boxes scattered all over the coffee table.

“Everything okay, Holt?” Even as I ask the question, I can tell he’s not alright.

His eyes are red rimmed, bloodshot, with bags under them, and his hair is standing in all directions, as if he was pulling on it or running his hands through it. Nothing like the well-put-together, professional athlete I’ve been treating for the past week and a half.

“No, this time last week all I was worried about was when I was going to be cleared to play again,” he says, rocking the baby—his daughter—and pacing around the room.

“You can talk to me,” I whisper.

He sighs before telling me how he went from having an ex-girlfriend he hadn’t talked to in months, to suddenly having a daughter .

“She showed up and dumped Hazel on you?” I frown.

What kind of person does that to their child?

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet.

“And, she’s yours?”

“She is.” He grins down at his daughter, who has finally stopped crying, and my ovaries nearly explode seeing the look of love and pride on his face even though he’s obviously exhausted and at his wits end.

“If only she would sleep somewhere besides in my arms with me constantly moving. I’m sorry she woke you.

” He grimaces. “Can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I’ll try. ”

“It’s fine.” I wave his apology away. Now that I know the situation of the crying baby next door I’m not nearly as mad about being woken up. How can I be? “How about I hold her? I can rock her or walk around. You seem like you could use a break.” I put my arms out.

Danger. Danger.

The warning bells go off in my head, but I ignore them.

This is most definitely crossing a line, but he’s clearly desperate for help, and I’m the only one here.

Me holding his daughter for twenty minutes while he takes a break won’t hurt anything.

No one needs to know I was in Holt Abbott’s apartment at three in the morning.

He stares at me for a second, and I think he’s going to say no. I wouldn’t blame him. But he doesn’t.

“You sure?” he asks as he hands her over to me.

“Absolutely. You go take care of you for a little while.”

“Thanks,” he stutters, stepping back. “I fed her and changed her diaper. She should be good. I’m going to go shower real quick and maybe clean up a bit.”

I smile down at Hazel, who is staring up at me with the same piercing blue eyes as her father. “Take all the time you need.”

I’ll be soaking up all the baby snuggles I can get. Would it be weird for me to volunteer to hold Hazel in the evenings when he needs to do other things? He’d probably think I’d lost my mind.

Maybe I have.

“Thank you.” He makes a hasty retreat, and a minute later I hear the water running .

I pace the room the way he was doing, rocking Hazel gently and singing under my breath.

Her eyes are getting heavier with every step I take.

I tuck her closer to my body, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo and whatever it is that naturally makes babies smell good.

Well, except when they shit their diapers. Or spit up.

I keep pacing in circles for a few minutes, and when I finally peer down at her again, she’s sound asleep.

I stop moving, and when she doesn’t cry, I take a seat on the coach, careful not to disturb her.

After a few minutes of her not stirring, I wonder if I should attempt to set her down in her crib.

Maybe she’s finally worn herself out and will let Holt sleep.

Deciding to at least try, I get to my feet.

I feel a little awkward wandering around Holt’s apartment without his permission, but I figure he’ll forgive me if I’m able to get Hazel successfully in her bed. I think I’ll take my chances.

His apartment appears to be a mirror of mine based on the three closed doors that greet me when I walk down the hallway.

The sound of the shower coming from behind the middle door makes that the bathroom, just like my apartment.

But which room is his? The one closest to the living room or the one further away. On an impulse I open the first door.

“Bingo,” I mutter as I spot a bassinet along the far wall on the other side of the King size bed.

I take a deep breath, which is a mistake because, fuck, his bedroom smells good.

A woodsy scent that I realize is all him.

I want to stand here and breathe this smell in, but I can’t.

I need to focus on my goal of putting Hazel in her bed without waking her.

I tiptoe over to the bassinet, pausing to rock her gently when she stirs.

I say a silent prayer and gently lay her down.

She starts to wake up, but I give the bassinet a gentle nudge, and it begins to rock slowly, and she falls back to sleep.

Turning to leave the room, I spot a baby monitor and receiver on the nightstand.

I flip it on and grab the monitor before creeping toward the door, grateful I got her down to sleep and did it before Holt came out of the shower and found me in his bedroom.

A noise has me peering over my shoulder, so I’m not paying attention when I walk into the wall.

“Ow,” I mutter, putting my hands out to steady myself.

Why is the wall warm and damp?

Oh shit.

What I ran into was not the wall, but rather Holt.

In a towel.

Still damp from the shower.

Fuck his chest is all hard and muscular.

I wonder if the rest of him is the same.

I want to explore the ridges and valleys of his muscles with my fingers.

With my tongue. My face heats up, and I’m thankful it’s dark so he can’t see me blushing.I drop my hands and take a step back, but I catch my foot on something and stumble.

With catlike reflexes, he grabs me at the last second, and I fall against him. He must have been holding his towel with one hand because I feel all of him.

All of him.