And when she started moving the pencil across the pad, I kept talking about anything and nothing. “I prefer sketches,” I said when she picked up the colored pencils. “Because I’m not that great at picking out colors,” I confided. “As you can see withmy sweater, I’m inclined to use all the colors.” I laughed, secretly excited that she kept drawing.
Fifteen minutes later, Zoya stopped and set the pad down before picking up her rabbit again.
I leaned over and studied the image. There were two rabbits in a field of grass with a stack of carrots in the distance. One of the rabbits wore a tag, identifying him—or her. “Hoppy,” I guessed based on the tag.
Zoya nodded, a small smile flickered to life.
“I guess I was pretty close. You’re very good, Zoya. You must be some kind of secret artist.”
Her smile brightened and I felt ten feet tall.
“You start tomorrow at seven.”
I looked over my shoulder at him, blinking in surprise at his abrupt interruption. “Seven in the morning. Not six forty-five?”
His lips pretended to twitch but Sledge was a man who wielded his self-control like a sword. “Seven sharp, Ms. Moreno. Don’t be late.”
I got to my feet and held out the sketchpad to Zoya. “Do you want to keep it? Maybe we can find a place for it on your walls?”
Zoya shook her head and pointed at me.
“You want me to keep it?” She nodded. “May I have the artist’s signature?” I asked, handing her a hot pink pencil.
She scribbled on the bottom of the drawing and took a step back.
“Thanks, Zoya. I’ll treasure it,” I told her before turning to her father. “I won’t be late. And my name is Eliana.”
He stared at me, nodding once.
“See you in the morning, Zoya.”
She waved and returned to the book beside the beanbag chair.
Sledge walked me to the door without another word, which was about what I expected.
I stepped outside as sunshine washed over me, and I smiled.
The father was intense, intimidating, and frustrating as hell, but his daughter was quiet, vulnerable, smart, and worth dealing with her surly dad.
I wondered where her mom was. There didn’t seem to be any evidence of a woman in Sledge’s life. But I guess that was a question for another day.
Chapter Three
Sledge
Three days. That’s how long it took for the new nanny to get under my skin. Ms. Moreno, no,Eliana, hummed while she did everything. She cooked and cleaned while humming. Organized Zoya’s crayons and colored pencils by shadewhile humming. I swear the damn woman lived in her own little world where the soundtrack was a soft, low hum, a tune that was slightly familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it for the fucking life of me. It was endearing, sure, but mostly it was annoying as fuck. And worse, I couldn’t stop noticing it.
Last night I’d given her a key so she didn’t have to wait on the porch,still humming, while I rushed to put on pants before answering the door. The heat in her gaze when she took in my chest and my abs, the way her eyes darted over the details found in the depths of my tattoos, was exactly the last fucking thing I needed. So yeah, I gave her a key and told her to use it, the implicit agreement was that she wouldn’t bother me.
Without worrying about the nanny, I stopped in front of Zoya’s open door and smiled. The blankets were kicked to the foot of the bed, and one arm covered her face. She was awake but she didn’t want to be. “You awake, Zoya?”
Her arm fell from her face and she nodded as she sat up. “Yes, Daddy.”
Nothing in the whole fucking world sounded sweeter than those rare occasions when Zoya gave me her voice. It was softand melodic, as if every syllable was a second away from a song. Following Eliana’s lead, I nodded instead of making a big deal out of it. “Okay, good. Wanna pick out something to wear or do you want me to do it?” Not that I knew shit about picking out little girl’s clothes, but she had a closet full of options.
Zoya tilted her head, weighing her options. “Me,” she said in a small voice that was barely louder than a whisper.
“Good call.” I stood and watched as she shuffled from bed to her dresser and then her closet until she had assembled a full outfit and held it up for my silent inspection. I bit back a smile at her choice of an outfit that was eerily similar to mine, jeans and a black t-shirt. The only difference was that my shirt didn’t have a unicorn shitting a rainbow on the front. “Perfect,” I assured her with a grin.
