Dylan stuck his head into the kitchen, careful to stay out of Sarah's spitting range. "I'm doing my homework. This is my homework time according to the Pascals' Rascals rules."
Michael almost believed the kid was serious. Then he saw the little smirk pulling on Dylan's lips. "The Pascals aren't here right now," he shot back. "You're living under my rules. And I'm giving you a new homework assignment-find out what a kimbie is and give it to Amanda so she'll stop screaming her little head off. Then put her in her pajamas and put her to bed."
"How am I supposed to-" Dylan began.
"Just do it," Michael barked. Dylan disappeared.
I should tell the Pascals there are people you can hire to do this kind of thing, Michael thought. People called baby-sitters.
That gave him an idea. Maria seemed like the kind of girl who would get into baby-sitting. He reached for the phone and dialed. Maria answered on the second ring. He wasn't proud. He begged. And she said she'd come right over.
You can hold out for fifteen minutes until Maria gets here, he told himself. "And you, Sarah, you can get some food down your gullet in fifteen minutes," he muttered.
Michael used his sleeve to wipe some mushed banana off his forehead, then scooped up another spoonful of applesauce. Sarah giggled in anticipation. He tried to tune out the sound of Amanda's yelling as he brought the spoon up to Sarah's mouth. He ordered himself not to yell when the applesauce hit his forehead and started dripping into his eye.
When Maria walked through the door thirteen minutes later, there was one horrible moment when Michael was sure she was going to turn around and walk right back out.
But she didn't. First she told Dylan to get some crayons and paper and have Amanda draw a picture of the kimbie. It worked. They still didn't know what it was she wanted, but she was at least quiet and happy.
Then she dragged Michael into the kitchen to deal with Sarah. "Did any food actually make it down her throat, you think?" Maria asked. She reached up and twisted her hair into a ponytail. The gesture pulled her shirt tight against her body-and Michael flashed on Maria's dream.
That happened way too much lately. Maria would do some completely normal thing, and Michael would get slammed by the memory of that dream. He should never have gone into it. What he saw had totally messed up his head, turning his thoughts about Maria from G-okay, sometimes PG-to NC-17.
Like at lunch yesterday, she insisted that he and Alex eat at least one green thing. He reached over to take a celery stick from her, his hand brushed hers, he noticed her skin felt really soft. And suddenly he was wondering how it would feel to have those smooth hands of hers touching him everywhere.
"If you have to think that hard, I'd say the answer is no," Maria said.
"Uh, yeah. Right," Michael answered.
"We should probably wait and see if she feels hungry a little later. She's too hyped to eat right now," Maria decided. "I'll give her a bath. That should help relax her a little." She grabbed a dish towel and tossed it to Michael. "You can give the kitchen a bath."
Michael was glad to have something to do that would take his eyes off Maria for a while-even though he could still hear her splashing around in the kitchen sink, talking to the baby.
Why did she have to look so sexy in that dream? Cute. That's how Maria should look. It's how she'd always looked before. He remembered how annoyed she'd gotten when he used the cute word to describe her. She thought the word cute should only be used when you talked about kittens or something. He thought the way she got all ruffled up about it was… cute.
That's how he wanted to think of Maria. He wished there was some way of going into his brain and cutting out the piece that held the memory of her dream. He wanted his Maria thoughts to be able to get a PG rating again.
He scrubbed the table so hard, it made his arms ache, refusing to allow himself even a glance at Maria. Then he moved on to Sarah's high chair, the kitchen cabinets, and the floor. Sarah had done some throwing before she got to the spitting. The girl had a good arm.
"Okay, she's done. Can you get me a towel and some clean clothes?" Maria asked.
"Dylan, get us a towel and some clean clothes for Sarah," Michael called. He decided it was okay to look at her now. She was talking to him. He couldn't stare at the floor like an idiot. Michael glanced over at her. Big mistake. Sarah had splashed water all over Maria and her shirt now had some interesting semitransparent spots. Michael locked his gaze on her face.
Maria raised her eyebrows. "I always wanted a little brother," Michael admitted. "You know, someone to get me stuff when I was too lazy to do it myself."
"Oh, that's horrible, isn't it, Sarah?" Maria leaned down and kissed the baby on the head.
Michael suddenly regretted not going for the towel and clothes himself. Because watching Maria kiss Sarah's head made him think about her kissing him. And that was completely sick.
Sarah splashed in the water, kicking her pudgy legs. Maria laughed and kissed her again. Michael wondered what it would be like if she did kiss him. And not on the top of his head, either-more like the way she'd kissed that guy in her dream.
Don't even go there, he ordered himself. It would be way too weird. She was the girl he felt protective of, the girl he liked to tease, the girl he liked to scare when they were watching old horror movies. Kissing Maria would be too much like kissing a little sister.
Dylan wandered into the kitchen and dropped the towel and clothes on the table. "A kimbie is a baseball mitt, if you want to know," he muttered. "She likes to sleep with it."
"Good going," Michael said.
Dylan nodded. He crossed to the fridge, opened it, poked around a little, and shut it. He pretended to be all interested in watching Maria dress the baby, which Michael knew he wasn't. He got himself a drink of water, drank it, and poured another one.
"Did you need something, Dylan?" Maria finally asked. She picked up Sarah and held the baby cradled against her chest.
Michael stared at Dylan. It was better than looking at Maria. He hoped in a couple more days, the memory of that dream would start to fade and things would get back to normal. He wanted to be able to hang out with her without having… thoughts.
"Um, there's this dance on tomorrow…," Dylan said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Michael tried to figure out what the problem was. "Are you afraid the Pascals won't give you permission to go?" he asked.
"No, they already said I could go. Mr. Pascal's going to drive me," Dylan answered. "But I don't know how to dance," he confessed in a rush.
Michael shot a glance at Maria and caught her trying not to smile. He tried not to smile back.
"Dancing's easy. We can teach you," Maria said. "I'll just go put the baby down. Dylan, show me where?"
I guess I better go pick out some CDs, Michael thought. He headed to his room-well, his and Dylan's room. He was serious when he told Maria he'd always wanted a little brother. And not only so he'd have someone who he could make wait on him-that was a bonus.
Getting ready to teach Dylan to dance was giving him this big-brother feeling, a little taste of what it could have been like. Although his brother wouldn't have been such a dweeb he needed to be taught how to dance when he was, like, thirteen years old. Michael would have made sure of that. If he had a little brother, he would have made sure the kid was able to handle himself.