The Witch And The Werewolf. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
Areas of the park were overgrown with wildflowers stretching as high as Lar’s waist in some spots. They’d picnicked with egg salad sandwiches, fresh veggies and blueberry lemonade in mason jars. While Mireio packed up the basket, Lars wandered into the flowers with Peanut, pointing out the yellow sunflowers. He held out his hand and a bee buzzed closer, probably attracted to his movement. He never flinched. Bees would not sting a person unless they were given reason to do so. And he intended to teach Peanut to not fear the insect, and to also respect it.
“That’s a dragonfly.” He stood still as the insect hovered but four feet from him. Strapped to his chest in a baby sling, Peanut stretched out his arms and cooed. “Yes, you like bugs? Of course you do. But you mustn’t squish them. Insects are good. Especially the bees. Like that one. See the fat sacks of pollen on her legs? She’s going to make honey with that. And then we can eat it.”
Though he’d read not to give an infant honey in his first year. Or had the pediatrician told him that? He needed to get a guide or book on all the things a parent should do and watch out for. This whole baby thing was new to him. He was walking a tightrope with Peanut, and didn’t want to wobble off the line.
“We’ll find a book or something,” he said to Peanut.
“A book on what?” Having taken off her shoes, Mireio joined him. A camera dangled from around her neck. She took some shots of a bright purple coneflower. Bending, she plucked a few tiny white daisies.
“A baby book,” he said. “I need something that’ll tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. I was telling Peanut about honey. I know that’s a no-no for the first year.”
“Right. There are great books out there for parents. Dr. Sears or the What to Expect books. They cover a baby’s first year, telling you what changes they go through monthly and about their growth.”
“Sounds like exactly what I need. Can we stop by a bookstore on the way back into town?”
“For sure! But only if you don’t mind me checking out the books on beer. I’m looking for a new and interesting recipe.”
“Deal.” He turned and fist-bumped her. “You a photographer too?”
“Me? No. But I like to take pictures of flowers and bugs. I have a macro lenses that I usually use. Takes amazingly detailed shots, but I forgot it today. I do have one of my pictures hanging up behind my bed.”
“I’ll have to check it out sometime.” Lars wandered forward then, with a wince, realized what he’d said. Check out the picture or her bed?
Well, he’d like to do both. In good time.
Spying a thick crop of wild grass, he sat on it and laid back with Peanut snuggling up to his chest. “Ah, this is the life. The sun is high and warm and I don’t have a care.”
Mireio leaned over him and snapped a few pictures. “Do you mind? You two look adorable lying there. He really is a little peanut all curled up on his daddy’s chest.”
“Go for it.”
“Oh, wait. I forgot the daisies.” She pushed a couple daisies into his beard. “I did tell you I’d have you in daisies, didn’t I?”
“That you did.” He even managed to smile, eyes closed against the sun, as she snapped the camera above him and Peanut.
After a few shots, she sat in the grass next to them and set down the camera. Tilting her head back to allow the sun to beam across her face, her hair tickled Lars’s cheek. It was the color of overripe tomatoes, with a hint of golden sunshine within the strands. If her hair had a flavor, he decided it would be tangy cherry with a burst of lemon.
How had he gotten so lucky as to find a pretty girl who liked to spend time with him and his baby boy? While Dean Maverick had teasingly suggested that babies were chick bait, Lars had known that it wouldn’t be so simple as strolling in to catch a woman’s eye for more than a few oohs and aahs. But for some reason Mireio had stuck around after the initial reveal. So far.
He wouldn’t count his blessings too soon. This thing they were doing was new and, as she’d pointed out, they were just having fun. So he had best stop worrying and get to the enjoying part.
“How about ice cream?” he suddenly said. “I don’t think I’ve had any since I was a kid.”
“Seriously?” Her blue eyes beamed above him. “There’s a shop not far from here. And I’m pretty sure a bookstore sits a couple stores down from that. What do you think, Peanut?” She stroked his fuzzy crop of dark hair. “Aw, he’s sleeping. All tuckered out from the sunshine. We’d better get him inside so he doesn’t overheat.”
“Overheat? Do babies do that?”
“Well, he’s not going to blow his top, but yes, his tender newborn skin will burn much easier than ours does.”
“Darn it, and here I thought the sunshine was good for him.” Lars sat up and tugged the blanket over Peanut’s head.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s not going to fry. Lars, you’re a great dad. You’ve some amazing instincts about taking care of a baby. Don’t question yourself so much.”
“It’s hard not to do so. I’ve never done this before. Sometimes I feel like I’m a little bug standing in the middle of this big field, trying to keep my baby bug alive.”
“You’re doing great.” She kissed him then. A soft, slow kiss that tasted his mouth and dipped her tongue across his bottom lip. It was a sweet connection that promised more. When she pulled away, she plucked the flowers from his beard and tucked them into her hair over one ear. “Let’s get ice cream.”
* * *
When they stopped by the bookstore, Peanut was fussing, so Lars stayed in the truck to change him while Mireio dashed in for the baby book and then skipped a few stores down to grab ice cream to go. They headed to her house, and by the time they arrived, Peanut was giggling and blowing bubbles every time she shook her bright hair before him.
“You must have grown up with brothers and sisters,” Lars commented as they strolled into her house.
“Nope. I was an only child. I started babysitting when I was ten. Every penny I made went toward spell stuff and crystals. And a really cool mermaid tail that I still have tucked away somewhere.”
“A mermaid tail?” He dropped Peanut’s bag of accoutrements on the floor near the sofa.
“Yes, it was rubber or something. I could pull it up like pants and there was room in the fin for my feet. It sparkled,” she said, adding jazz hands because that was what one did when one talked about all things glittery. “I’d swim out in the backyard pool for hours wearing it. But it only fit me for about a year. I was so bummed. I think I expected it to grow with me. So you are going to stay for supper, yes? I make a mean zucchini parmesan.”
“I’m not even sure what that is, but I’m in.”
“Great! Let me get it put together. It’ll take about twenty minutes, and then I’ll pop it in the oven.”
“Me and Peanut will take a look through the book you got for us.”
He headed into the living room. Mireio called out that he could take the yarn afghan off the back of the couch and lay it on the floor for Peanut to crawl around on. “Will do!”
Utterly pleased after an afternoon well spent, she floated about the kitchen, gathering and slicing zucchini and onions, grating parmesan, while on the stove top she stirred a tomato sauce with basil and shallots.
Around the corner in the living room she heard Lars reading the What to Expect the First Year book out loud. In a very dramatic tone. She peeked around the corner and spied the big werewolf lying on the violet-and-blue afghan on his