Lost and Found (29 page)

“No. I told you, I don’t want it and I don’t need it. I’m leaving.”

She walks past me and leans down to grab a black backpack from the floor.

I snatch it away from her before she can lock her fingers around the strap.

“Hey! That’s mine!” she yells.

“You can have it back after I find a diaper.”

Her expression goes from angry to happy in a nano second. “That’s okay. You can keep it.” She turns to walk towards the front door.

“Try to leave and I’ll have you arrested for breaking and entering.”

She spins around and glares at me. “I never did that!”

“Sure you did. You didn’t knock, did you? I never told you to come in.”

“That’s not fair!” she yells.

Cassie starts to cry again.

“Great.” I glare back at her. “Look what you did.”

Leah Betty’s expression goes slack and then concerned. “I’m sorry. Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

“Help me find a diaper, would ya?”

She points to a bag behind me. “My guess is they’d be in the diaper bag over there.”

I twist around to look at what she’s pointing at. There’s an edge of a diaper sticking out of a side pocket. “Good call.”

Standing and putting her backpack over my shoulder, I walk by and grab the diaper bag on my way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she calls out behind me.

“To the scene of the crime!” I yell back, hoping she’ll follow me.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

WHEN I WALK BACK INTO the bathroom, the baby is completely naked, lying on her back on a towel on the floor. My shirtless, fake ex-fiancé Boo Oliver is examining the fresh diaper like it’s a specimen in science lab. God, even in baby pooed pants, he looks good. Asshole.
 

“Here, give me that.” Taking the diaper from him, I lower myself carefully to my knees at his side. It’s easier to move around since I left my wet shoes in the front hall. I was worried I was going to bust my ass if I kept trying to walk around in them on all this marble. This place has the coldest decor I’ve ever seen. There are solid white surfaces everywhere. Even the carpet is hard.
 

I’ve never put a diaper on anyone, but it looks pretty self-explanatory to me. I lift up one of the baby’s legs and the other one goes with it. I smile. “Hey, look at that. That’s handy.”

“What’s handy?” He looks first at the baby and then at me.

I use the diaper to point at her legs. “You lift one and the other goes too.”

“Are you going to put the diaper under there?” he asks, obviously not as impressed with baby mechanics as I am.

I hand it to him. “No, you are. I’m doing the heavy lifting.”

He glances at me sideways and sighs, but then he slides the diaper under her tiny butt.

I let her down gently and her two little fists move towards her mouth. Her tongue starts licking all over them and then she makes sucking sounds.

“I think she’s hungry,” I say.

Boo is looking all over the diaper, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “I’ve gotta do this first before I tackle that problem.”

“What are you doing now?” I ask. He looks mentally challenged the way he’s frowning so hard at the poor diaper. A mentally challenged hot guy. I hope he puts a shirt on soon. He’s making it hard for me to want to leave.

“Trying to find those tape things,” he explains. “I swear I saw them a minute ago.”

“They’re right there.” I point. “But I think they need to be on the other side, otherwise you’ll be taping the diaper back on her spine.”

“Very observant,” he says to me, giving me a quick grin before he pulls the diaper out and flips it around.

I lift the baby once more so he can position the diaper under her.

“We make a good team,” he says, taping the thing in place.

When he lifts her up off the floor the entire thing slides down her legs.

“Put her back down. You need to do the tape tighter.”

He follows my orders and I fix the tapes, bringing them closer together. “See? Fits like a glove now.” I feel pretty proud of myself, actually. First diaper changing in life? Check. Done it. Awesome at it.

“Wow, you really know babies, don’t you?” He grins at me again.

I’m immediately suspicious of all these compliments.

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“I’m always nice.”

“Lie. You just told me I look like I could use money,” I remind him. “You basically called me a derelict.”

“It’s just basic economics. You need money, I have money. Take my money. Please. Take it.”

“No.” I kind of laugh when I say it. He’s too ridiculous. Who gives money away to a stranger like that? No one I’ve ever heard of. And certainly no one with abs like that. “I don’t just take money from people. I’m not a beggar. I work.”

“Where do you work?” he asks, as if he doesn’t believe me.

“Never mind where I work.” Like I need him showing up and busting me after I get rid of that ring, which is what I still plan to do before I leave here.

“You’re not a prostitute are you?”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” I stand moving away from him.

His gaze goes from my feet up to my head. “Can you blame me?”

“This is my Chinese food delivery costume!” I yell. “Have a little respect!”

He laughs. I think he’s just going to giggle a little, but he keeps on going. And going. When he finally gets to his feet, he staggers out of the bathroom and over to the couch, holding the baby in the crook of one arm still laughing.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” I’m trying not to smile, but he sure is cute when he’s laughing, even when it’s at me. And that shirtless, baby-in-the-arm thing he has going on is like,
whoa
. Sex drugs.

“Where’s the ring?” he asks, sinking into the couch cushions with a sigh.

“In my bag.” I point to it. He’s left it on the floor at his feet.

He reaches down and dumps the backpack upside down, causing everything to spill out.

I throw my hands up. “Rudeness. Again. Why am I not surprised?” I’m not angry he did it, even though I sound like I am. Maybe I’ll be able to find a way to convince him to keep the ring if I work this just right. I change my scowl to a smile.

He grabs the wad of tissues that hides the ring and holds them up. “Come here.”

I walk over and sit down near him on the couch. Not too near, but near enough that I can grab my stuff if the opportunity arises. It’s suddenly very warm in his apartment.

“Try it on,” he says, pulling it out of the tissues. He holds it out between us. The light from the overhead fixture catches it and sends sparkles out everywhere. It really is a beautiful bad luck charm. It’s alluring, like The Devil himself.

“Are you crazy? I’m not putting that thing on.” I frown at him and fold my fingers together tightly.

“Why not?” He holds it out closer to me. “Come on, let’s just see how it looks.”

“No way, José. That thing has bad juju vibes all over it. I don’t want that crap on me.”

He waves a hand over it, mumbles some nonsense, and then looks up at me smiling. “There. Bad juju gone. I just fixed it.”

“With a spell? No thanks.” I can’t help but smile. Who knew Doctor Boo Oliver could be so silly? He looks good with some silly going on.

He sighs, dropping his hand to the couch. “What can I do to make you take this ring and keep it?”

“Absolutely nothing.” I nod to be sure he knows how serious I am.

“How about we turn it in to Cartier and you keep the money?” he suggests.

“No, I told you, I don’t want it.” My heart seizes up a little at that lie, but I know this is the right thing to do. It’s a massive karmic test, and if I pass it, the universe will reward me with riches beyond measure. I can feel this in my bones. I just need to convince Boo to keep it. Or I have to trick him into keeping it.

“But why? You could buy an apartment with it or rent one for the next thirty years. You could stop working.”

“But I
like
working.” I realize as I say it that it’s true. Hanging out alone in my apartment is boring. Plus there’s that added bonus of random Larry sightings if I were home all the time. No thanks. Avoid.

“You do?”

“Sure. It gives me a reason to get out of my apartment, talk to people, hang out with my friend Belinda, learn new things. It’s great.”

He tilts his head a little and draws his brows together. “Where is it you work again?”

I point at him and grin. “Nice try.”

“How’d you find out where I live?” he asks, his expression going serious. So much for the nice-guy act.

“I’m not sure I should tell you. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” Veronica sounded very happy to give me his address. Maybe a little too happy. It makes me think I should warn him about her. I’m feeling very conflicted right now. Where should my loyalties lie? With the girl who gave me the inroad to offloading this bad luck or the guy whose naked chest and baby handling skills are tugging at my heartstrings?

“No one’s going to get into trouble. I just want to know who to thank.”

“Thank?” My chin backs up into my neck. “Are you trying to be funny?”

“No.” He smiles. “You saved Cassie and me from sure doom. I appreciate it.”

“Oh.” I smile back. “Well, you can thank Veronica, then.”

His expression goes stormy. “Veronica? She gave you my address?”

“Yeeeeah. She called me.” Now I’m worried.

“Son of a bitch,” he says under his breath.

“Hey! Whatever happened to me being your savior of doom?”

He stares at me for a few seconds and then his face relaxes. “You are the savior of doom.”

After I think about what he said and seeing him trying not to laugh again, I wonder if he and I are saying the same thing.
Savior of doom
. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

“Just try the ring on once for me,” he says, making my head spin with the change of subject and mood. “You have beautiful hands. I never saw it on a woman’s hand before and I’d like to.”

My heart warms at the compliment, even if it is fake. “Your girlfriend never put it on?”

“Hell no. She never even saw it.”

His quick anger makes me intensely curious. “Will you tell me how it got in the fountain?”

“Will you try it on for me?”

We stare at each other for a little while. When I answer, I feel like I’m taking a big step towards something I’m not even sure what it is.

“Fine,” I say. ‘Tell me all your secrets and I’ll try the damn thing on.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

I HOLD OUT THE RING, hoping she’ll cooperate and let me just slide it on her finger. My grand plan to get her to fall in love with the look of ice on her hand is in motion. No woman can resist a gorgeous diamond, right? That’s what they told me at Cartier.

“No, you first,” she says.

Cassie starts to fuss, making sounds like she’s about to let one of those howls go like she did earlier in the car.

“Here,” I say, handing the baby over to my savior of doom. “Hold her while I find her food.” I leave Cassie in her arms before either of them has time to complain.

“Are you sure you know how to feed her?”

“Sure,” I lie, hoping if I fake the confidence it’ll be there when I need it. “There’s some formula in one of these bags. There’ll be directions on it, right?”

“God, I hope so,” she says under her breath.

“Ye of little faith.” I unzip the first bag.

“You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” she asks.

“That obvious, eh?” I abandon that first bag that’s full of totally useless, multi-colored clothing and go for another.

“How is it you end up with a baby in your completely un-baby-friendly condo for an entire weekend without any experience whatsoever?”

“Funny you should ask. It’s kind of tied up with the ring thing.” I look at her over my shoulder.

She has the baby in her lap, lying so that Cassie’s head it at her knees and Cassie’s feet are at her crotch. She has both of the baby’s hands wrapped around her thumbs and she’s moving her hands up and down kind of like I did earlier in the elevator. I’m unable to move when she starts to talk.

“Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Leah, Leah, waaaa hoo Leah! Savior of doom!” She claps the baby’s fists together over her head.

I go back to my formula search, only now I’m much more sober than I was before. All along I’ve been reminding myself how different I am from this Leah person, but then every time I do that, she slaps me in the face with a similarity. For example, we both don’t know shit about taking care of babies but we do know how to turn one into a cheerleader.

“So how is a baby being here in your place related to a ring in a fountain?” she asks.

I finally find a can of formula in the side pocket of a bag. The instructions say to add water in a fifty/fifty mix, so I grab an empty bottle from the same pocket and go into the kitchen.

“My brother was married to a girl named Laura. She was nine months pregnant with Cassie when she was killed by a drunk driver. Obviously, Cassie lived, but Laura did not.” I pause to open the can and to let myself breathe through those horrible facts. It still hurts to even think them in my head let alone say them aloud.

Next thing I know, Leah Betty is standing in the kitchen with me, Cassie held awkwardly to her shoulder and her eyes filling with tears. “Oh my god, that’s horrible, Boo.”

She looks so sad, I want to make her feel better, but I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth, hoping the right words are about to come out.

“Why do you keep calling me Boo?” I finally say. So much for my brain working without guidance.

She shrugs. “I guess because I don’t know your real name. And because when someone asked me what it was, I panicked. It was the first thing I thought of.”

The darkness that had descended thinking about Laura dissipates a little. “You mean you’ve been actively stalking me for a week and you don’t know my name? How is that even possible?” I can’t help but smile. This girl is completely bat-shit crazy, albeit in a sexy, air-headed kind of way.

“First of all, I haven’t been stalking you, and second of all, in case you never noticed, you always introduce yourself as
Doctor
Oliver. Is that your first name? Doctor? Do your friends call you Doc?” She snorts, laughing at her own lame joke.