Mr. Aylett was standing over them, holding an empty trash bag, grinning. He’d shed his tie—something he did the moment he walked in the door. The first button of his shirt was undone, and with the afternoon sun shining behind him, he was practically glowing.
“Daddy!” Charlotte screeched. “Play with us.”
Delaney had heard Charlotte call him that. He usually gently corrected her.
She took the lead this time. “Uncle Noah’s in his dress clothes. Maybe he shouldn’t?—”
“No way you’re keeping me out of the fun.” He plopped down in the pile, lifted an armful of leaves, and threw them in the air.
Leaves fluttered down, catching in Delaney’s hair and landing on her shoulders. She couldn’t help laughing. “This is starting to feel counterproductive.”
“Is that so?” His eyes twinkled as he scooped Charlotte up and pretended to bury her in the pile.
“No fair!” Charlotte squealed. “Miss Laney, help me!”
Delaney joined the fray, showering a handful of leaves over Mr. Aylett’s head. His gray eyes caught hers for a moment, and something electric passed between them.
Whoops. She looked away, reminding herself they were supposed to bevibe-less.
Three weeks she’d worked for Charlotte’s uncle. He was handsome, but also busy and distracted and completely professional. They’d had countless conversations about Charlotte, but nothing personal. Nothing playful. Even then, it was impossible not to notice what a handsome man he was.
What agoodman he was.
Delaney shifted out of the pile to put distance between them. “We were trying to clean these up for you,” she said, gesturing at the scattered leaves and the bags she’d managed to fill before their play had taken over.
Mr. Aylett shook his head, sending leaves flying from his blond hair. “Why would you do that when leaves are clearly meant for fun?” He threw another armful over his head.
Charlotte danced in the raining leaves.
“Stop that!” But Delaney was laughing too hard for her admonishment to sound convincing.
Three weeks at the Aylett house, and she’d never seen her employer this relaxed. His usual serious demeanor had given way to something lighter this evening, something more carefree.
It suited him.
Charlotte flopped onto her back, making leaf angels. Delaney reclined beside her, the damp earth soaking through her jeans. She didn’t care. The late October air felt refreshing against her flushed cheeks, and Charlotte’s laughter was worth every bit of dirt she’d have to scrub from her clothes later.
Mr. Aylett stood and extended his hand to help her up. His palm was warm and firm against hers as he pulled her to her feet. A tingle shot up her arm. They’d been careful not to touch in the weeks she’d been working for him. She realized now what a good policy that was.
She brushed leaves from her clothes to hide her reaction. “I should get dinner finished. It’s almost ready.”
“Don’t leave on my account,” Mr. Aylett said, back to burying his niece in leaves. “You two were having fun.”
Delaney took a step back, needing space from the man who was making her heart do strange things. “The pulled pork has been in the slow cooker all day. It just needs to be shredded and served.”
“Smelled delicious when I walked through. Let us know when it’s ready.”
“Will do.” She retreated to the kitchen, berating herself for her attraction. She’d vowed on her first day to keep a professional distance from Mr. Aylett, yet here she was, flustered by a simple touch.
After scrubbing her hands, she shredded the pork with two forks, the tender meat falling apart easily. Through the open windows, she could see Mr. Aylett and Charlotte still playing, their voices carrying on the evening breeze. The sight made her yearn for something she didn’t want to name.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d been so careful to keep things professional and maintain appropriate boundaries. The little girl had stolen her heart from day one, and the man was proving far more complex than his initial rudeness had suggested.
Had she ever heard him laugh like he had just now? Not the polite chuckles he offered during their careful conversations over breakfast and dinner, but real, unguarded laughter? Like his niece’s, his laugh was contagious.
She arranged the pulled pork on a platter and set buns, pickles, and barbecue sauce on the kitchen table. The green salad she’d prepared earlier went beside it, along with the baked potato chips she’d found at the local market.
“Dinner’s ready!” she called.
