11 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Read Online Free PDF Page B

pocket.”
    Fishing them out, he passed them over and tried to ignore the sweet softness of her fingers brushing his when she took them. She unlocked the door and pushed it wide. With his first real glimpse of her apartment—it was a mirror of his own, right down to the coffee table and angle of the television. A playpen sat on the floor near the sofa, and she carried the baby over and settled her down amidst the blankets. Little arms and legs waved in the air, but the infant continued to make cooing, gurgling noises.
    Her attention clearly split between him and the baby, she returned to the door to reclaim the diaper bag. “I’ll order the pizza if you like, a little before the game starts.”
    “Sounds good. Order whatever you want. I can pretty much eat anything as long as it’s not anchovies.” Frankly, no one local made pizza like Bertinelli’s Pizzeria at home, but he’d survive. He rolled the chair around and headed for his place.
    “Joe?”
    Glancing over his shoulder, he found her stepping out onto the sidewalk. Here it comes. She’s already having second thoughts .
    “Yes, Mrs. Carter?”
    “Thank you.” She exhaled, surprising him. “And please, you can call me Melody.”
    “You’re welcome and I’d love to call you Melody.” He liked the way her name rolled around his tongue. His body stirred and he punched the reaction down. He needed to fit her squarely in the friend category, not think about how he’d like to roll his tongue over other parts of her— just stop .
    Her lips curved upward. It was a little smile, but it didn’t seem to take nearly as much effort as her earlier attempts. “I don’t think I’m very good at this.” She slid a hand into the pocket of her jeans and leaned against the wall next to her door.
    Turning his chair around, he studied her. She desperately needed to get some sleep. The deep bruises beneath her eyes practically cried for rest. “Good at what?”
    “Small talk. Polite conversation. I don’t get to practice it much. Talk to me about medical issues, feeding schedules and symptoms—I’m your woman.”
    “You don’t have to make small talk with me.” He smiled. “And if you want to talk medical stuff, we can. But I think taking it easy and cutting yourself a break is fine, too.”
    “I don’t think I know how to do that anymore.” She sighed and dragged a hand along her braid, and pulled it free. Combing her fingers through her hair, she cast a look behind her into the apartment, checking on her daughter. “And I have no idea why I’m unloading all of this on you. You probably want to go and take a break from my drama.”
    He nudged his chair forward and shook his head. “I have four sisters. Trust me, I know drama. You’re not that bad.”
    The dry statement dragged another laugh out of her. She really didn’t laugh enough. But at least that one didn’t sound so dry and dusty from ill use. “Four? Do you have any brothers?”
    “Two.” He chuckled. “One older, one younger. Same with the sisters only it’s two and two.”
    “Wow. You’re the middle kid.” Her eyes widened.
    “Yes, ma’am. I kind of like it. Had sisters to spoil me, sisters to drive me nuts, a brother who looked out for me, and one I could do the same for. Lots less pressure that way.”
    He wouldn’t trade his crazy ass family for anything. Not that all of his siblings were actually siblings. Two were cousins adopted into the brood when their parents died young, but his mother never met a child she would turn away from her door. She told them she planned to be swimming in grandbabies and they all had to give her at least one. His sisters were way ahead of the curve with two, two, three and one. His brothers did their damndest to keep from adding to the number.
    Until now . The thought crept out of nowhere and surprised the hell out of him. Little Libby would benefit from the zaniness of a huge family surrounding her with love. And his momma loved to shower the