Suddenly, a foul odor fills the room and our eyes turn to the baby. “Jesus,” Mack grumbles, covering his nose with the crook of his arm.
“Is that him?” I gasp, fanning the stink away from my face.
Mack goes to pick up Oliver and slides his hands under his body. Suddenly, he gives me a horrified look. When I glance down, I see why. His hands are covered in baby poop. Horrible, slimy baby shit seeping out of the top of the diaper, staining the onesie shirt he’s wearing, and ruining the blanket. “It’s between my fingers,” Mack gags, picking up the baby, yet holding him out, away from his body. “I think it’s everywhere.”
I bark out a laugh and go running for the bathroom. I start the shower, filling up the little baby bathtub and preparing it for Oliver.
“That’s not going to work, Lean. It’s everywhere. All over me too.” Mack is standing at the doorway, the poopy baby an arm’s length away from his chest. “I think I need to get in there too. It’s running down my arm.” He gasps, giving me a horrified look.
I toss the bathtub aside and make sure the water is a decent temperature. “Give me Oliver. I’ll strip him down while you do.” I turn my back to Mack and get to work on Oliver. It’s tricky as hell, stripping a baby while trying not to smear poop all over. “We’ll just throw all his clothes away,” I add. I’m not trying to clean them when we don’t have a washer or dryer available until we return to Los Angeles, and there’s no way I’m riding alongside this odor for the next three days.
I set Oliver down on the counter and grab some wipes we keep in the bathroom and start cleaning him up as best I can. However, I find some of it just smears.
Mack steps into the bathroom beside me and tosses a stack of wipes in the trash. He seems to have cleaned up his hands as best he can, but I can understand his need for a shower. I’d feel the same way. The moment his hands are poop-free, he rips off his formfitting T-shirt and tosses it into the pile. “The shirt can go. It’s tainted with the smell of my son’s foul shit.”
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t get any on your shirt, Mack. It’ll wash just fine.”
“Nope, it’s gone. Throw it out with the baby clothes. I think my jeans are fine though. I’m going to need you to unbuckle and unfasten them for me,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Seriously?” I ask, deadpanned.
“Yep.”
I shake my head. “And those aren’t tainted with the scent of baby poop?”
“Not yet. Hurry up and get them off.” He gives me a wolfish grin as he holds out his arms and gives me full access to his pants.
My eyes roll wide. “That’s the worst logic I’ve heard in forever,” I state, adjusting Oliver so I can reach for Mack’s buckle.
“Maybe so, but it’s working right now, isn’t it?” he quips.
Somehow, I manage to get them unbuckled and unfastened and his zipper down so he can finish removing his pants. “Did you see that, Oliver? Your daddy thinks he’s so smooth,” I say to the now-naked baby.
“Your daddy is smooth, Ollie. Did you see how quickly she went for my fly? It’s a curse, little man, and someday, you’ll have the same problem.”
Again, I roll my eyes. “Get in the shower, Cruz,” I instruct with a grin.
He does as he’s told. I can’t help but glance down, his impressive cock hanging between his legs. “Stop gawking at me, woman. I’m about to have my naked son in my arms, and the last thing I want is a hard-on because I can feel your eyes objectifying me.”
I giggle. Just as I go to hand over the baby, water shoots out and hits me square in the chest. Glancing down, I see Oliver peeing, and I swear he actually smiles. Mack barks out a laugh as he reaches for his son. “Looks like I’m not the only one in need of a shower, Miss Stanley. Might as well strip down and join us. You know, to conserve water and all.”
I just shake my head and strip off my wet shirt.
Apparently, we’re all taking a shower…
***
“Two laps to go,” Coop says to Cruz through the headphones.
I’m in the box, trying to stand off to the side and watch the end of the race. Oliver is passed out again, sleeping comfortably in the carrier at my chest. I’m bouncing from side to side, more out of nerves than need to move for him.
“Daniels is making a pass on the low side,” Fish says, giving instructions on moving through the turns and keeping the competition behind him.
Just as they cross the finish line with one to go, the battle for second place heats up between Mack and Daniels. My eyes are riveted to the monitor as Mack does everything he can to keep Daniels behind him. As they head into the second turn, Daniels makes his move. I’m holding my breath as he dives down deep to pass Mack just as they head into turn three. They make contact with their tires, the result causing Mack to shoot up the track and Daniels to fly down into the apron as he struggles to keep it under control. Mack is able to right himself quickly and doesn’t lose the place as he finishes in second place, Daniels coming in right behind him.
I exhale a loud breath as Coop talks to Mack about the incident. I can hear the tension in his reply, or lack thereof. The tension is practically palpitating through the headset as he makes his way around the track and pulls into pit road. The guys are there, the moment the car is stopped, helping remove Mack’s security devices and exit the vehicle. I climb down the ladder, but don’t approach. I can
