The Bachelor and the Babies

Harrison guessed those thoughts concerned Carrie and whether or not there was something going on between them. “No,” he mouthed.

“Why not?” Jon mouthed back over Carrie’s bent head.

Because. Harrison knew there was a good reason—probably several good reasons. He simply couldn’t think of them right now, not with Carrie looking all casually soft and approachable.

“Down!” Nathan had finished destroying his food.

Harrison, grateful for the interruption, removed the tray. Before he could set it on the counter, Nathan arched his back, slid down the seat and landed on the floor on his well padded rump. “Joose,” he said and patted the floor. Then he picked up a stray Cheerio and stuck it into his mouth.

Harrison grimaced.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot to warn you about the high chair trick.” Jon had arrived in the kitchen. “I also forgot the diaper pail. I’ll snag one when I buy the plugs and the door latches.”

Nathan got to his feet and ran toward his father. Jon picked him up. “You’re wet.” He pointed to the dark area on the front of Nathan’s overalls.

“Joose,” Nathan said.

“You can get going,” Harrison offered. “I’ll clean Nathan up.”

Jon raised his eyebrows and grinned, setting Nathan on the floor. “Good luck.”

Harrison had a feeling he wasn’t referring to the kids.

Within moments, Harrison was alone with a half-dressed Carrie.

“Da-dee!” Nathan shrieked.

Okay, not alone.

Matthew had tired of pulling Carrie’s hair and was puckering his face.

“Hey, Harry, I think he’s hungry. Can I feed him his bottle?”

Bottle. Right. “Uh...”

Nathan escaped the kitchen and flung his orange-juice soaked body out the door.

Harrison ran after him and scooped him up before he reached the stairs. Then he kicked the case of formula inside his foyer and let the door slam shut.

“Da-dee!” Nathan made a full-body imprint of orange juice on the front door.

“And what have we here, Matt?” Carrie was bent over a diaper bag.

Harrison was so thrown off balance by the knowledge that he’d lost control of his house and the people currently within it, that he didn’t even stop to enjoy the view.

Carrie stood and held up a bottle in a thermal container. “Should I heat it up first?” she asked.

“Uh, whatever,” Harrison said as he wrestled a crying Nathan into the spare bedroom, tried to open his suitcase with one hand and keep Nathan from spreading orange juice with the other.

Eventually he succeeded in undressing Nathan, only to realize that all the diapers were in the living room.

He returned to the living room to find that all was quiet. Carrie stood in front of the windows, swaying slightly and feeding Matthew a bottle. She smiled at Harrison, all traces of her earlier grumpiness gone.

“You’ve done that before,” Harrison commented.

“Actually, no.” She looked down at Matthew. “But there doesn’t seem to be much to it.”

Harrison hoped there wasn’t.

“Da-dee!” Nathan, wearing only socks, and damp socks at that, streaked by.

“Daddy’s going to be back in a little while, sport,” Harrison tried to reassure him. “Hang in there.”

“But what are you going to tell him when Daddy doesn’t come back? From the looks of this place, I’m guessing that they’re here for more than the afternoon.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Whatever you do, don’t lie to him.”

Nodding, Harrison picked up a box of diapers.

“Hey, Harry, those are baby-size. The toddler ones are in the purple bag.”

Harrison squeezed the diapers in annoyance before exchanging them. “Please do not refer to me as Harry,” he said, adding, “Harry and Carrie sounds like a vaudeville team.”

She flashed him a grin. “I like it.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, what do you want to be called?”

“Harrison.”

“No kidding? I thought that was a name your mother saddled you with.”

Tamping down his annoyance, Harrison corralled his nephew and the correctly sized diapers. “It was her maiden name.”

Carrie raised her eyebrows. “Gotcha.”

There was nothing to “get.” Harrison liked his name just as it was.

Conscious that Carrie was a witness to his first attempts at undressing and dressing a tiny, uncooperative human—all prior humans had been more than cooperative—it took longer than he would have liked to get Nathan taped into his diaper and snapped into clean overalls. After two futile attempts to put his shoes back on—when had Nathan’s feet turned to jelly?—Harrison decided to let the little boy run around barefoot.

And run was the operative word. Until Jon returned with the outlet plugs, Nathan couldn’t be trusted to keep from electrocuting himself, so Harrison wasn’t making much progress in unpacking the suitcase.

To Nathan, it was all very amusing to run squealing down the hall and watch Uncle Harrison lumber after him. Only Uncle Harrison was not amused.

Carrie was. He could hear her laughing. Okay, fine. Let her deal with the electricity addict. Harrison was going to unpack.