“How does it work?” Ash asks, leaning closer to get a better look.
Jordan shifts Henry to one arm and points to the diagram beside the exhibit. “See those vents at the bottom? They create updrafts that meet the downdrafts from the top, and when they rotate…”
His hand moves to indicate the air flow pattern, and somehow in the process, his fingers brush against mine, where I’m resting my hand on the edge of the display case.
It’s nothing. An accident. A casual touch that lasted maybe half a second.
So why does my skin feel like it’s on fire where he touched it?
I pull my hand back quickly, probably too quickly, and focus intently on the tornado as if it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. But I’m hyperaware of Jordan standing next to me, of the warmth radiating from his body, of the way he smells like pine and sage.
Pull it together, Alexa. He’s your employer. This is a job, not a date.
But my body didn’t get the memo. My heart is beating faster, and I have to resist the urge to look at Jordan to see if he felt ittoo, that little spark of electricity that had nothing to do with the science exhibit.
“Can we build a tornado at home?” Ash asks, oblivious to my internal crisis.
“That might be a little advanced for our backyard experiments,” Jordan replies with a laugh, and thank God his voice sounds normal because mine would probably crack if I tried to speak right now.
We continue through the museum, and I do my best to focus on Ash’s excitement and Henry’s babbling instead of the way Jordan’s laugh makes my stomach flip. By the time we reach the gift shop, I think I’ve gotten my reactions under control.
“Can I get something?” Ash asks, pressing his nose against the window display of science kits and educational toys.
“Pick something out,” Jordan says, following him into the shop. “Something we can work on together later.”
I start to protest that he doesn’t need to buy Ash anything, but Jordan waves off my objection before I can voice it.
“He’s been such a good sport about entertaining Henry, and he asked really great questions today. Consider it a reward for being an excellent science student.”
I already know he would get Ash something even if my kid hadn’t spoken a word today. The whole “excellent science student” part is just Jordan trying to put me at ease. He likes doing things for Ash; I can tell.
Because he’s giving. Sweet. Basically, the perfect man.
Ash takes his time examining every option before settling on a complex-looking building set.
“I think that might be a little advanced,” I warn him. “It says ages fourteen and up on the box.”
“I’ll help him with it after dinner,” Jordan promises. “Maybe set up a project station in the living room.”
Ash beams, and I smile at Jordan. Our gazes lock for a little too long, though, and I quickly turn away and pretend to be interested in the key chain display.
As we drive home through the still-drizzling rain, I listen to Ash chatter about everything we saw today, and I try not to think about how natural this all feels. How right it feels to be spending a Saturday together, making spontaneous plans and buying building sets and explaining tornadoes.
How much it feels like we’re a real family instead of just a woman and her son spending time with the man who employs her.
Because that’s all this is. A generous employer taking his nanny and her child on an educational outing. The fact that he makes my pulse race and my skin tingle is irrelevant. The fact that he looks at Ash like he’s proud of him, that he buys him presents and wants to spend time with him, that he makes us both feel like we matter… none of that changes the fundamental reality of our situation.
I work for Jordan. He pays me well to take care of Henry and teach him about baby care. Everything else is just wishful thinking on my part.
CHAPTER 19
JORDAN
The building set is spread across Alexa’s coffee table like the blueprint for a small city. Tiny plastic beams and connectors are sorted into neat piles, and what started as a simple project has evolved into something that looks like it could withstand a minor earthquake.
“Just five more minutes?” Ash pleads, holding up a section of the partially constructed bridge we’ve been working on for the past two hours. “We’re so close to finishing this part.”
“It’s already past your bedtime,” Alexa says gently, glancing at the clock on her mantel. “We can work on it more tomorrow.”
