A warm, solid arm pressed against hers, and when she shifted her leg she felt the roughness of a hard, hairy male calf against her own. She smiled, remembering what had happened after Becca collected Aaron. Alice had been tetchy, crying off and on, her teeth obviously painful. Pippa had tried everything, rubbing gel onto her daughter’s gums, offering her various soft objects to chew on. Then she’d handed Alice to Harry while she mixed a bottle of formula, only for Alice to pipe down almost immediately. She’d looked around to find her daughter gnawing on Harry’s thumb, a deeply satisfied expression on her round face. She’d expected Harry to balk, or at the very least hand Alice back after a token few minutes, but he’d settled on the couch with her and let her gum away until she’d fallen into a fretful sleep. Then he’d carried Alice to her room and stood to one side as Pippa tucked her in. Pippa would be lying if she pretended there hadn’t been a moment—maybe even two or three—when she’d glanced across at him holding her child and let herself imagine.
