Page 29 of If Love Had A Manual (Skeptically In Love #2)

R osie’s limbs are finally still, her breath soft and steady as she snoozes like someone who’s just run a marathon through cake and attention.

It took three stories, four failed lullabies, and one very firm conversation about why we can’t take the balloons to bed.

Now she’s curled on her side, one hand fisted in her blanket, hair sticking up in wild tufts, and cheeks flushed with the kind of joy only a sugar high and staying up past bedtime can provide.

Downstairs, laughter drifts up from the kitchen. Someone just cackled loudly enough to make the floor vibrate. I’m guessing it’s Julian.

I glance down at Rosie and my heart squeezes so tight that I lose my breath. I love this little girl. Like, terrifyingly, completely, no-going-back kind of love. The kind where you catch yourself staring at them for too long and planning imaginary futures that you have no business imagining.

“Goodnight, Rosie Posie,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips over her cheek. “Love you. ”

A creak sounds behind me.

I turn as Wes slips into the room, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the soft glow of the nightlight.

“Everything okay? You’ve been up here a long time.”

I shrug and turn back to Rosie. “One bedtime story turned into three,” I say, my voice soft.

When I glance at him again, he’s standing just a few feet away, watching. Something shifts in his eyes.

“Come on.” He tips his head toward the door. “Sienna’s made some kind of cocktail concoction, she says you ‘simply must try.’” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s bright pink.”

I let out a quiet laugh and tug the blanket a little higher over Rosie’s small body. “God help me.”

Wes pulls the door half-closed behind us as we step out into the hallway.

As we walk, I glance at him. “What age are you anyway?”

He side-eyes me. “Thirty-two. Why?”

I feel the teasing smile splitting my face before I get a chance to stop it. “You’re in luck, Turner.”

He raises a brow. “How’s that?”

I lean in and whisper, “I’ve always had a thing for older men.”

That earns a soft chuckle from him as he rests his hands on my shoulders and gently guides me forward. “Such a flirt.”