DILF DIARIES_Oh Baby Page 2

  “Oh, it’s just a Mommy and Me class or something.” Jack shrugged off the accusation, pretending he didn’t see what the guys saw. Truth was, he was used to it.

  “Right,” Griff laughed. “Strange how they only have class when you’re on duty.”

  “You’re saying a cluster of women plan their lives — their children’s lives — around my running schedule?” Jack shook his head in disbelief, waiting for them to fire back with the usual bullshit.

  Landon jumped down from the ladder and leaned against the truck. “I heard a woman shoved a kid down in the park once just so you’d stop and offer first aid, and it wasn’t even her kid.”

  “Bullshit,” Jack replied. “No fuckin’ way.”

  Landon tossed his hands up. “True story, man. Rumor has it, the Craven widow has to have her car repainted because she washes it too much. Again, only on your running days.”

  Jack crossed his arms, pondering as he scratched his chin. “She does seem to wash her car a lot.” He shrugged, giving up. “But you can’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Word has it you have the biggest hose in the house and women are fighting over who gets to slide down your pole next,” Jarret laughed.

  “Yeah…well, when you got it…” Jack started as he grabbed himself for dramatic measure, forgetting he had an audience of horny moms watching and likely sharing his every move on social media. “Don’t be jealous, boys.”

  “Hey, I think one of those ladies just fainted when you jerked it, man.” Jack was walking away, laughing, when Jarret hollered, just loud enough for the mommy mob, “Don’t trip over that hose, bro.”

  “I’ll try not to — it’s become an occupational and bedroom hazard. It’s tough being Jack Decker.”

  “The only thing big on this one is his head,” came a voice from around the corner. Marty, their dispatcher, and the grumpy lady who took care of them all. When her choice of words earned a snicker, she set them straight. “The other head. You’re like a bunch of twelve-year-olds. You’ve seen the size of his big red pick-up truck, and you know what they say about men with big trucks.”

  Jack knew where she was going, and he wasn’t letting her take a hit for free — he was going to make her say it. “They have big tires?”

  She rolled her eyes, totally onto his game. She’d invented it, after all. “That they’re compensating for something that’s a bit too small, you jackass.”

  “I just like red, Marty,” Jack teased. “I also needed it to haul around my big—”

  With her hand in front of his face quicker than a trigger-happy cowboy at an old western shoot out, Marty shut him down. “Stop while you’re ahead, kid. Make sure you duck as you walk through that there door. You don’t want to hit your ego on your way out.” She turned to face the group of men. “As for the rest of you, watch what you say around here. Quit acting like hooligans and be professionals. Now, I’ll be upstairs making your dinner. Not that any of you deserve it — especially you.” She poked a finger at Jack’s chest, who just tossed an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

  Marty was a piece of work, but she was special. No bullshit, shoot-from-the-hip, call-it-as-she-saw-it-with-no-regrets — that was Marty. She took care of the guys at the firehouse, but Jack was the one she took care of most, because he needed her most. He had no family to call his own, and sometimes a guy needed a mom, so she filled in here and there, but never made her affections for him public.

  “Get your arm off me, or they’ll start calling you Wack Pecker because that’s the only action you’ll be seeing when I’m done,” Marty scolded. Then, under her breath, she chided, “Too damn pretty for your own good…the lot of ya.”

  Jack chuckled, knowing full well Marty loved the attention the guys gave her when she took care of them. He looked over his shoulder and announced, “Barbeque at my house tonight.”

  The crowd went wild.

  Chapter 2

  The only thing worse than waking up too early on your day off was waking up to a crying baby. Especially when you don’t have a baby. Sleeping with the windows open was a bad idea.

  All the early morning mommy walkers were already out and about, and one must’ve decided to stop in front of his house. They tended to do that in small groups. They were probably taking selfies with his house in the background to share at Mommy and Me with the other sleep deprived, under sexed, horny moms in town. The ladies were probably comparing notes and baby bragging because their baby is smarter and more advanced than all the other babies. Funny how everyone has the smartest baby.

  He rolled his eyes and pulled his pillow over his head, hoping they would move on before he suffocated or sweat to death. His head still under the pillow, with his hands now over his ears, Jack started to question why he decided to buy a house in a family friendly neighborhood instead of a pad downtown. He knew one thing for certain: he was getting too old for late nights. This shit was torture.

  “Keep walking. Please, just keep walking,” he said out loud to himself. “Or whip out a boob or something. Your kid is pissed. Why am I the only one who hears it?”

  Then he thought about how pissed his neighbor Jules, or Juliet, was likely getting. He grinned at the idea of her taking to the sidewalk and delivering a piece of her mind. Now, he was fully invested. If she got involved, he’d have to remember to grab his popcorn – because she didn’t mess around. Thoughts of her sassy little mouth and pissy disposition gave him a shit eating grin and a hard dick.

  Then came a knock at the door. He ripped the pillow from his face and tossed it across the room. “Great. Now they need something. Should have guessed.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time a woman broke down in front of Jack’s. It was literally his duty to jump into any and all crises, big and small, to save the day. Probably just another chick who let the air out of her tire so I could put on her spare, he thought to himself as he pulled on a pair of pants. The memory sparked him to grab a t-shirt before heading down the hallway to the front door. Apparently, a bare chest sends the wrong signal when aiding damsels in distress. He didn’t need to learn that lesson twice.

  The knock came again, but more urgent. Must be a hot one. He rolled his eyes. It was hard being Jack Decker — everyone’s frickin’ hero — when all he wanted was a little privacy and some sleep. Ignoring whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t an option. They weren’t going away. The knock was now more of a pound mixed with a screaming baby. They knew he was home. He was noticing an epidemic in their town, and he really needed to go public with it so men would quit neglecting their wives and keep them satisfied. He’d had enough of the bored at-home-mommies stalking him. That wasn’t ego talking, but cold, hard fact.

  He picked up his pace. All he needed was for Nurse Ratchet to blame him for the screaming baby and mommy walking tribe that decided today was a good day to screw up his plans and punish him for letting the previous night’s barbeque run way too late.

  With his t-shirt slung over one shoulder, he ran his hand through his bedhead of hair and opened the door, only to laugh. Standing on the other side, holding a carrier full of screaming baby bouncing up and down, with a bulky bag over her shoulder, was none other than sassy and pissed Nurse Stick-Up-Her-Ass. He didn’t see that coming — not by a longshot.

  “It’s you. Should’ve known,” Jack said, leaning in the doorway, eyes pinned on the screamer.

  With a glare sharp enough to slice a brick, she shot back, “Touché. I’m a mandatory reporter, ya know. I should report you.”

  “Touché yourself, Nurse Ratchet. Firefighters are as well. When did that happen anyway?” Jack asked, referring to the bundle of anything but joy.

  “Uh, when I became a nurse.” The only thing missing from her snide reply was the word duh.

  Sizing up the baby and doing some quick mental math, Jack was impressed. She was a working mom, and he had mad respect for that. He also now understood why she was so grumpy all the time. “You’ve only been a nurse�
��what? A few months? Are you just going to let it cry?”

  With a look of confusion, and maybe insult, she tossed his question right back at him. “Uh, I’ve been a nurse for five years — are you going to let her cry?”

  “Wait, what?” Jack looked between Juliet and the baby, quickly re-mathing. If she’d been a nurse for five years and had the baby back then, someone was unclear on the whole term of gestation for human babies. “That’s a pretty small five-year-old in that little seat. You sure your math is right? And what do you expect me to do about the crying? Is that why you brought it over here?”

  Juliet shook her head, a twisted expression on her face. “Wait, what are you talking about? This isn’t my baby. Are you still drunk from last night?”

  “Drunk?” Jack laughed. He didn’t drink much and tended to walk around with the same beer all night only to dump most of it when everyone left. He had an image to uphold, but alcohol was no longer his friend. “Try tired, not drunk. And the noise coming out of that isn’t helping. I was trying to sleep.”

  Juliet nodded, as if it all had just become clear. “Neglect…makes sense. Is Boom Boom trying to sleep too?”

  “Boom Boom? Oh, Bambi… I don’t know. Ask her boyfriend,” Jack corrected.

  Juliet stood there, and the look she boasted suggested she was waiting for him to answer since she assumed he was everyone’s boyfriend.

  “Oh, and I’m not her boyfriend,” he chided, then waved his hand over the baby. “Seriously, the crying, Jules. Do something.”

  With a look of disgust and shock, her face reddened. “You do something. And it’s Juliet!”

  “I’m a Firefighter. We put out fires and help people in bad situations. We don’t…babysit.”

  Juliet took a step back, letting out a breathy gasp that ended with a hint of a shriek. “Babysit? Since when is parenting babysitting? You’re a real piece of work, Pecker.”

  “Ah, so you do know who I am,” Jack answered with a satisfied smile. The guys at the firehouse called him Pecker to be assholes. Women did it because they heard he was a legend. Well, his pecker was anyway.

  With the baby carrier on one arm, Juliet threw her free arm to the air in disbelief. “Oh, come on, who hasn’t heard of Jack ‘The Pecker’ Decker. Portland’s hero saves old people and herds of cats from burning buildings by day, puts out fires in women’s panties by night. The article never mentioned bad dad, though.”

  Jack stood tall, his spine stiffening at what sounded like more of a slanderous accusation than being called Pecker. Panic rolled through his body and laced his words. “Bad — wait, this isn’t my baby. Why would you think this is my baby?”

  Juliet rolled her eyes again, tired of the game. “Because I woke up to a screaming baby I found outside on your doorstep.”

  Vigorously shaking his head, Jack furrowed his brow and backed away. “That doesn’t mean it’s mine—”

  “Your name’s on the baby, Jack.” She pointed her head toward the inside of the seat where an envelope was peeking up from between the side of the seat and the baby’s leg. It did indeed have Jack’s name written boldly in a feminine script across the front.

  Dropping his head back in a sigh of relief, Jack was quick to make sense of the whole thing. “Oh, I get it, someone left it here because I’m a fireman. That whole ‘leave your baby at a local church or firehouse no questions asked’ thing. Jesus, this isn’t a damn firehouse.”

  “Language, Decker. Geez,” she scolded with distaste. “Can we come in? I’ve seen the same group of women walk by with their strollers six times now. They have their phones out this time.”

  Jack stepped aside and quickly pulled Juliet inside, peeking around the corner of the doorframe to see how close the women with their phones were. Too close. “Get in here,” he murmured, slamming the door.

  Jack gestured toward the dining room table, indicating Juliet could place the baby there. She did, following his cue just fine, but then began to sway from side to side, keeping her eyes fixed anywhere but on Jack.

  “Don’t you have a…” she stalled, swallowing so hard, it was an audible gulp, “shirt?”

  Jack grinned, noticing how uncomfortable his bare chest was making her — and how it made her blush. He leaned on the table, kicking one ankle over the other and crossing his arms in such a way his upper body flexed. “Sure do.”

  When he wasn’t quick to move, she looked at him, eyes narrowing at the sight of his sarcastic grin. “Can you put it on? At least be half decent?”

  “You don’t think I’m…decent?” he questioned, waggling his eyebrows.

  Flustered, she clenched her fists and stared him down, but only for a minute, then her eyes wandered. “Jack, the baby’s still crying. Can you lock your inner frat boy away for a minute? I know it’ll be hard, but—”

  “Hey, eyes up here, Jules,” he teased, catching her eyes locked on his abs.

  She jumped from the embarrassment of being caught. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring until he pointed it out. And now she was pissed, because he was typical, patronizing Jack. “Juliet. Not Jules. It’s…Juliet.”

  Jack winked. “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you said Jules.”

  “Are you sure you heard me right? You seem a little…distracted. What’s wrong with Jules anyway, Jules?”

  “It’s not my name any more than Pecker is your real name.” When Jack grinned, she tossed her hands up and headed for the door, sans baby. “I’m outta here.”

  He looked at the baby, then at Juliet leaving, and panicked. “Wait, Jules, you can’t…” He launched himself in front of her, hands on her shoulders and desperation in his voice. “Juliet, please stay. I don’t know what to do…with it.”

  “Her,” she said.

  “Why do you keep saying her? Did she tell you something I didn’t hear?” He looked back at the baby with a puzzled look.

  “No. Babies don’t talk, Jack. All the pink gave it away.”

  “Pink…right.” Roles were reversing, and he was the nervous one now, which pleased Juliet.

  “I’m sure you can figure things out. You’re the local hero, after all. Have a good one.” And she moved toward the door again, pleased at having the upper hand and watching him reel. Not so

  cocky now, she thought.

  “Wait! Firefighter, remember? And that isn’t a burning anything. It’s a screaming kid. They don’t teach us anything about babies. You’re a nurse. You should…hold it.”

  “Me? It has your name on it, and I’m not at work. Why would I hold it...I mean, her?”

  And then he said it — the one thing no man who wanted his goods to stay intact should ever say. “But you’re a woman—”

  “Do not finish that sentence, or that whole Pecker thing will become a myth in three seconds flat and I’ll be out the door — sans baby.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m…sorry,” he apologized, certain she was really willing to leave this baby in his care and give zero shits about doing so.

  Juliet handed him the envelope and unbuckled the baby to comfort her. “You read. I’ll try to calm her down.”

  Jack pulled out a single-sided piece of paper and quickly read it. “It’s a birth certificate. I’m listed as the father. But who’s the mother? There’s a name, but I don’t know a Kate Henderson.”

  “The name doesn’t ring a bell, like, at all?” When he shook his head, eyes still glued to the page as he read it over and over, she sighed. “The legend must be true.”

  Though it was said under her breath, her words caught his attention, and seemed to offend him, especially now. “Legend? You don’t believe all that, do you? I’m not—”

  Jules looked at the baby, then him. “Says the guy who doesn’t recall his baby mama.”

  “Jules…Juliet, I swear, I had no idea. This…this has to be a mistake. I mean, if I knew about…that,” he nodded toward the baby, “we wouldn’t be doing this.”

  Juliet simply shrugged, not convinced. Th
is was a pretty dramatic mistake in identity if he was correct. But who am I to judge? Oh, who am I kidding, I’m judging him and judging him hard because he’s Jack “The Pecker” Decker.

  “I need to call someone. I need to call….” Jack paced the floor, as if he were only allowed one phone call and had to figure out who he had the best odds of reaching. “I’m a mandatory reporter!” Jack had an epiphany. Then became excited when the answer dawned on him. “We both are. It’s abandoned.”

  “So, call the police then, but your name’s on that.” She gestured to the birth certificate still in his hand.

  “I don’t care what this says. If I were someone’s dad, I would know about it,” he defended. “I wouldn’t skip out, nor would I run from it. I would take care of my responsibilities. If I’m the kid’s dad, why wasn’t I told…until now…on what could be a fake document?”

  “Uh huh.” Her voice was flat, unmoved by his declaration. “Why would someone just add your name and drop the baby here? She’s got to be a couple months old.”

  He didn’t answer her, because he just didn’t know. “Felix…my buddy Felix is a cop and he’ll keep this on the down low until we find…” he looked at the paper again, trying to recall the woman’s name, “Kate Henderson, and get this squared away.”

  “You know it’s a baby. Like, a little person, not a car deal gone bad.” The baby began to cry again, so Juliet slowly bounced her to soothe her. “I know, sweetie. I’d cry if he were my dad too.”

  “Cute. Real cute,” Jack chided, phone to his ear. “Felix. Emergency, my house. No…not the twins again. They’ve latched onto Roman.” He looked at the baby again. “This is bigger.”