Ireland followed Bran into the living room, which was relatively empty compared to the kitchen and entry that were filled with large Cade men and their significant others.

She sank to the carpeted floor and tucked her legs beneath her.

Bran squatted and set Harlow on the carpet, the diaper bag beside his thick thigh. His nose scrunched. “She’s ripe.”

Ireland cooed at Harlow, who was getting ready to bolt if Bran didn’t pick up the pace. She sent him a side-eye, and caught him frowning at the diaper bag. “You run four restaurants, but you can’t change a diaper?”

He flashed her a comical glare. “Of course I can change a diaper.” He pulled a diaper from the bag, studying it as though it were a mystical contraption. “How hard can it be?”

Ireland held back a grin. She and Cali had young cousins, and Ireland had changed a diaper or two in her time. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. Especially with an active baby like Harlow.

Ireland was making every funny face in the book to keep the baby giggling and in one place while Bran played with the stretchy tabs on the diaper.

He stared at the baby, shrugged, and tugged off her leggings.

Ireland raised a finger. “You might want to grab wipes.”

“Wipes?”

“For her bottom. You know, before you remove the diaper.”

“Right.” Bran searched the bag and pulled out a rectangular baby wipe package.

“And a changing pad,” she added. “To keep the carpet clean.”

Bran frowned and reached back into the bag, rifling around until he found a rolled-up pad. He set it out, then laid Harlow on top, who promptly tried to wiggle off.

Bran gently rested one large hand on her tiny chest, tickling her beneath her chin to keep her laughing and in one place.

“You can wipe her bottom and fold the wipes up in the soiled diaper,” Ireland suggested.

Both hands occupied with keeping Harlow still, he said, “You sure you don’t want to take over? Or help. I’d take help.”

“No way,” she said. “Watching you is highly entertaining.”

Bran grumbled, and Ireland crossed her legs to get comfortable. She considered pulling out her phone for photo evidence, then thought better of it. Bran might chicken out if she drew too much attention to him, and she wanted to witness this event. A muscly, hot guy changing a baby’s diaper? Didn’t get cuter than that.

Bran examined the diaper on Harlow now that her leggings were off. The poor guy looked frightened.

Ireland pressed her lips together, holding back laughter. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He pulled at the tabs like he was ripping off a Band-Aid, and the front of the soiled diaper dropped forward.

Bran closed his eyes and shook his head. “What does my brother feed this kid? How could something so small produce so much…” Harlow started kicking her legs, and Bran’s eyes rounded. “Shi—I mean, shoot.”

He plucked four or five wipes and started dabbing at Harlow’s bottom like he was cleaning a contamination zone.

Ireland was laughing now. Loudly. Holding her stomach for support. And drawing eyes from the other side of the room.

“You’re not helping,” Bran said, sweat beading his brow.

“Okay…” She sucked in a breath and tried to stifle her giggles. “You hold her legs and wipe, and I’ll distract her.” Ireland reached for a toy across the carpet and dangled it above Harlow’s head, making funny faces while she tried to get the baby to reach for it.

A flurry of wiping ensued, and then—“Oh God.”

Ireland looked back. He’d done a fairly good job of cleaning up. “What’s wrong? You’re almost finished.”

“There’s…stuff…in her…” He held up his hands. “I can’t. Wes! Get your ass in here.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” came Wes’s loud reply from the outside patio. The sliding glass door was open and Wes was flipping burgers at the grill.

“I’m going to kill him,” Bran said, and looked at Ireland. “It’s in her…parts. Do I leave it there?”

“Absolutely not. She’ll get an infection. Make sure you wipe front to back.”

Bran’s lip curled. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Don’t push the poop toward her delicate stuff. Wipe from the top toward the changing pad.” She motioned the action, and he frowned.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Bran closed his eyes and wiped the baby the way Ireland had showed him. He popped one eye open, and gave the baby one more wipe. “Good?”

Ireland peered over. “Good. Now carefully switch out the dirty diaper, pulling the tabs to cover the wipes you put there, and tuck the fresh diaper under her bum.”

Bran did as she said—surprisingly well, actually.

She nodded. “Put some ointment on her so she doesn’t get a diaper rash, close the tabs, and you’re finished.”

Bran used a fresh wipe and cleaned his hands. He dug in the diaper bag, searching, as he held down Harlow’s kicking legs. The baby was wiggling to and fro like crazy after being forced in one place for so long, and Ireland was running out of toys to distract her.

Bran pulled out ointment and put some on his finger, then quickly slathered it on her bottom. He secured the tabs of the diaper in place and held up his hands as though he were being timed.

Ireland reached over and redid the tabs so that the diaper fit more snugly. “Congratulations, you successfully changed your first diaper.”

Harlow flipped over and crawled away without her leggings, her little bottom booking it across the carpet to Hunt, who quickly swooped her up and into his arms.

Bran wiped his brow with his forearm. He threw the diaper-changing products into the diaper bag and picked up the poopy diaper with his forefinger and thumb. “I don’t suppose you know what to do with this?”

“Wes or Kaylee will show you where to put it.”

Bran crossed the room to Kaylee, and Ireland made her way to the bathroom she spied near the front door. She hadn’t bothered closing the door, as she was only washing her hands, and Bran walked in while she was finishing up.

“Excuse me,” he said, and started to back out.

“I’m all finished. It’s yours.” She grinned. “You did a good job out there.”

He frowned comically as she dried her hands on the towel and they switched positions. Bran started washing his hands vigorously. “I love Harlow, but damn, changing diapers? I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

Ireland glanced back, wondering how strange it was for them to be talking in the bathroom. The scene was intimate, as though they’d stolen a moment together. “No one likes changing diapers, but someone’s got to do it.”

He dried his hands on the towel and turned toward her. “You don’t think it ruined my masculine mystique? Changing diapers isn’t how I typically woo women.”

She laughed. “Do you woo women?” Half the time, Bran seemed uninterested. The other half, his tongue was seducing her mouth and she thought she’d implode from the fire of his touch.

He sent her a sexy look, and her nipples perked up as though he’d called to them.

She cleared her throat. This. Exactly this. The man was a menace. “I don’t know. I thought it was kind of sexy, a big, strong guy taking care of a baby. Pretty hot.”

His eyebrow rose, and he reached behind her and closed the door, sealing their privacy. He pressed his hand against the door beside her head. “Hot, eh? How hot?”

She swallowed. “Really hot.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I think it’s sexy that you knew how to coach me. When were you around kids?”

Her gaze focused on his mouth, which seemed to move closer, distracting her. “Cousins. I have cousins. Cali and I are in the middle, and some of our older cousins have kids.”

He reached up and slid his fingers down a lock of her hair. “I love your hair.”

“My hair? I mean, thank you.” What were they talking about?

Diapers. Right.

Most guys would have told their brother to screw off if they’d been asked to change a diaper. But Bran had taken care of Harlow, because he loved the little girl. How could that not be sexy?

“I-I…” Shit, she was stuttering. How the hell was she supposed to remember anything with his body so close and his intense blue eyes drinking her in?

“Screw it.” Ireland grabbed the back of Bran’s head and pulled his mouth the last inch to her own. She kissed him, her tongue working its way into his mouth as he lifted her up and seemed to turn them around. The next thing she knew, she was propped on the bathroom counter, his large body pressed between her legs.

His mouth trailed down her neck, and he ran his hands up her waist, cupping the sides of her breasts.

“You like to prop me up on things—desks, counters.”

“I’d prefer a bed, but this will do.”

This was the second time in two days Ireland had found herself making out with Bran Cade. What were they doing? She wasn’t even sure she liked him. Well, she liked him, clearly, but she wasn’t sure he was good for her.

“We should probably stop,” she said as she leaned back, giving him better access to the top of her breast, where his mouth and tongue swirled delicate, wet kisses that sent bolts of electricity through her belly.

“Probably,” he murmured. “Don’t want to.”

“Me either. Why is that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

He took her by the mouth and grabbed her bottom, pulling her flush against his long, hard length.

Ireland’s head went dizzy. “Bran, wait.”

He looked up and stepped back half a foot. “Right. Not here.”

But somewhere else? Really? Why couldn’t they keep their hands off each other?

Ireland liked Bran, but until recently, she wasn’t sure he respected her. She still wasn’t. Though he was seriously growing on her. The man knew how to make her body needy, which wasn’t helping.

Cali, of course, would approve.

“We should get back to the others,” Ireland said. “Someone might have seen you enter the bathroom before I left.”

Bran was staring at her breasts, and he scratched his jaw. “Right.”

“Bran?”

He lifted his eyes to hers.

“Do you want to leave first?”

He propped his hands on either side of her waist and leaned forward, kissing her gently on the mouth. “I’ll walk out first. You come out a few minutes later.”

She grinned. “This is like high school.”

“Welcome to my world. That’s how I have to operate with a bunch of nosy-ass brothers around.”

She watched him leave, and then sank against the counter.

“Holy shit.”

If this was what happened every time they were alone, their non-restaurant dinner date might end up in flames.