Remy’s cries still echo around us as I glare at him. “You know, I’m just trying to help, Henley. Dilynne wanted me to make sure you were okay…”
“My sister needs to mind her own business.” He stands from the couch and heads toward the kitchen for a drink.
I shake my head, trying a different motion as I walk around with Remy. “Guess I’ll be going to the movie night at the winery by myself,” I mutter.
Henley walks back into the living room. “What?”
“I said, I guess I’ll be going to the movie night at the winery by myself.”
His brows furrow. “The girls told you about that?”
“Yeah. They invited me actually, and I said I’d be going with or without you. I think you’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no interest in being friendly with me and think I’m just here to hit on your friends, so…”
His feet carry him across the room in slow motion until he’s standing right in front of me. And before I can breathe, he’s lifting my chin up so our eyes meet, the callus of his fingers branding my skin. “I’m sorry,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice coating me in a warmth that travels down all of my limbs. “I tried apologizing to you earlier, but you ran off.”
“You accused me of something that I would never do.”
“I know. Deep down, I know that, Elodie. I just…” He blows out a breath as his face contorts. I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. “I’m frustrated and tired, and I’m—I’m taking it out on you.”
My eyebrows lift. “Wow. That’s mighty big of you to admit.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “What can I say? I have my moments. But I mean it. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you that you’re getting the brunt of it.” His thumb strokes my jaw and suddenly I forget how to breathe.
Our eyes remain locked, which is how I catch it when his dip down to my mouth for a split second. But as soon as he realizes what he did, he releases my chin and gives me his back, sighing out loud.
“Thank you,” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear me over Remy’s shuddered cries. All I get is a nod from him before he heads over to the couch and takes a seat, burying his head in his hands.
The only sound in the room now is Remy’s fussing, and without thinking, I try one tactic I haven’t yet.
I start to sing.
Henley’s head snaps up, both he and Remy suddenly fixed on me. I find my voice that I haven’t used in a while and close my eyes, letting the lyrics carry me as I softly sing “Breathe” by Faith Hill.
My mom is a huge country music fan, and all I remember growing up was listening to Faith Hill, Reba McEntire, and Shania Twain records while I helped her clean the house on the weekends.
When I open my eyes, I find Henley staring at me but Remy has finally laid her head on my shoulder. I begin to taper off, but she stirs again so I keep singing, moving around the room while swaying from side to side.
By the time I’ve finished the song, Remy is out cold on my chest. And when I glance back at Henley, I’m caught off guard by the sight of his massive frame slumped in the corner of the couch, also fast asleep.
Chapter 6
Henley
Parental Pressure and Job Duties
“That bus from the elementary school will be here in ten minutes, boss,” Jessica calls out as she blows right past me, headed to the lodge restaurant with a pot of coffee in her hands. If she weren’t so damn fast, I’d ask her to come back and refill my coffee mug for the third time this morning, which is better than the five cups I’ve been averaging for the past few days.
My body hurts all over this morning, but I can’t tell if that’s from the yoga or falling asleep on the couch in an awkward position last night. All I know is I got the best rest I have in the past week, and it was all because of my new nanny.
God, her voice.
I thought only angels could sing like that.
Elodie is talented, which makes me question what the hell she’s doing here. With a voice like that, she should be singing on stages allacross the world. But watching her walk around and soothe Remy last night with that song only made me realize how little I know about the woman.
She’s right. We don’t know each other, and even though every part of me is fighting the idea of broaching that issue, the rational part of me knows that I should be more familiar with the woman I entrusted with my daughter. I mean, hell…I knew her for all of twenty minutes before I hired her.
Is that the type of shit that gets CPS called on you?
