Page 16

Xavier

I'm elbow deep in a diaper change before our night game at home against the Los Angeles Diablos. Holland's tiny feet kick the air, making my work more challenging. After last week's road trip, we've really hit our stride. The chaos that used to run my life has smoothed out into something calmer--or at least as close to it as you can get with a baby.

Since the day I ran into Vivi at Buns yesterday I got a haircut. Vivi was right when she said I'd be a better dad if I wasn't running on fumes--little changes, big differences. For the first time, I think I'm getting this dad thing down.

"Hey, Baby Daddy. I'm here!" Tenley hollers as the door slams closed behind her.

The new nickname is her favorite way to torment me this week. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?" I bark from the nursery where I'm finishing up.

"But it's so much fun to see how it makes you squirm."

Holland gurgles, her mouth parted and the corners pulling up. It almost looks like a smile. I wouldn't put it past Tenley to have won my daughter over so thoroughly that she would be amused by her dad's discomfort.

"She can't even see me," I grumble to my daughter.

Lifting Holland I turn to find Tenley in the door frame. "I don't need to see you to know you're in here scowling and giving yourself wrinkles over it.""She just woke up from a nap. I haven't fed her yet."

"That's fine, I've got her. But I need you to do something for me."

I raise my brow at her, hesitant to agree without knowing more, but she stares impatiently, waiting for me to agree.

"What is it, Ten?" I finally ask, bored with the stare off. Her smile falls, like she thought I might hold out in the odd battle of wills she had me locked in.

"There's a bag on the counter. Can you drop it off at Double Play on your way to the stadium? It's for Vivi. She's having a really shitty day. I meant to drop it off on my way from the library, but forgot. Normally I wouldn't ask, but it's on your drive and she could really use it today." It all comes out in one long string of words.

A frown pulls at my lips. I'm thrown off by how vulnerable she seems. It's out of character for her, but I agree without hesitation. The thought of Vivienne having a bad day unsettles me, and if whatever Tenley has can help, I'm in.

"Yeah, sure. It's not a problem at all."

Her smile brightens. "Thank you so much. You're sure you can drop it off before the game? It's her favorite red velvet cake. I grabbed it from a bakery on campus after a meeting, but I was so excited to see this little one that I drove straight here and forgot to stop."

"Are you sure it wasn't me you were excited to see?" I deadpan.

And just like that her smile slides off her face and is replaced with an exaggerated look of disgust. "We talked about the dad jokes--they're lame. Do you want to be lame, Xavier?"

"Like I told you last week, I couldn't care less. The dad jokes come with the baby--it's a package deal."

Consider me puzzled, and slightly aroused. Which admittedly is a strange combination.

I stand in the doorway of Vivi's office, the bag from Tenley hanging from my hand, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. I can't tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me, even though I know I should.

There she is, on her knees in the middle of her office, skirt pulled taut over her ass, her upper body stretched forward in a thread-the-needle yoga pose. My only saving grace is that her head is turned away from me. She deepens the stretch, reaching further with the arm threaded under her torso, releasing a soft moan. I shut my eyes, but it's no use--my body responds, and I go half-hard at the sound.

This is wrong. So so wrong.

She's having a rough day, and here I am, drooling over her like a pervert. I take a step back, shaking my head as if that could shake the image loose. Regaining my composure, I move forward, knocking as if I've just arrived.

Vivi pushes up on her hands, eyes wide with surprise when she sees me behind her. "Oh hey, didn't expect you." She quickly stands, smoothing down her skirt and adjusting her top as she turns to face me.

Why am I here again? My mind goes blank, the image of Vivi's sinful ass the only thing that sticks. My fingers flex involuntarily, and I glance down at the crinkling bag in my hand. "Tenley said you were having a bad day . . . She, uh, asked me to drop this off." I shove the bag toward her like a total idiot.

"Oh god. Is that from Sugar Slice?"

I can tell by the awe in her voice that "yes" is the only acceptable answer.

It seems like a rhetorical question, but like I said, I'm dumbstruck. So, like an actual moron, I hold up the bag, checking the label. "Sure is. That's the place near campus?"

Jesus, I'm a riveting conversationalist.

"Allison's cake is better than sex, and I missed lunch today, so this is the perfect midday pick me up."

That wakes me the hell up. My throat tightens as I swallow hard, trying--and failing--to ignore the effect her casual words have on me. The semi I'm already sporting isn't going away anytime soon. It demands that I be the one to show her how good it can be. The heat in my body spikes, and I tug at the collar of my shirt to cool off.

But the patience I've learned as a dad kicks in. I force myself to stay in control, choosing the safer route instead of acting on the impulse. "She said it was your favorite. Is, um . . . everything okay?"

"Oh yeah. Fine." She rubs her neck and winces.

Clearly it's not fine. "Your neck is bothering you," I state.

When Tenley said she was having a bad day and needed cake, I expected to find her upset, not hurting. But other than the obvious discomfort, she seems fine, happy even.

"It's nothing." She waves me off.

"So you weren't stretching because you're hurt?"

She laughs crossing the office and stopping halfway to me, holding her head at an uncomfortable angle the whole time. "I don't have time to be hurt."

I glance at my watch--I don't need to head to the stadium yet. Instead of handing her the bag, I set it down on the corner of her desk and perch on the edge.

"Come here." I widen my legs to make room for her to step in. She looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Trust me. Our trainers work on sore muscles all the time. I've picked up a thing or two."

She hesitates, standing still in the middle of her office, biting her lip, looking more nervous than I've ever seen her.

"Vivienne. You're in pain and I can help. Please let me."