“She hasn’t been with you long, has she?” I question.
I swear I hear his molars grind, “No.”
I nod and capture my bottom lip between my teeth, gnawing on it as I think back to all the children I’ve cared for, from newborns to seven-year-olds. One thing they all have in common, no matter the age, a change in routine and environment can set them back months. Not only that, but they also pick up on energy, even if a word is never spoken. I have to see Dean with her to see it for myself so I can figure out how to help.
For the little girl only, of course.
“Mind if I go see her?”
Dean’s dark eyes narrow. “You gonna take the job?”
“I already said I would,” I place my hands on my hips.
“I’ll show you the way,” He places three steaming mugs of coffee to the side and then gestures for me to follow him through the house. I subtly take in his space. The rustic theme continues throughout, with dark hardwood flooring and beige walls, warmrugs to cover the floor. His couch is a deep brown suede, with two dark accent chairs positioned on either side, facing a small open fire with a large TV hanging above the mantel. But there’s no art on the walls, no photographs. He has a bookshelf lined with books, no trinkets or ornaments to be seen. Apart from a few house plants to give the house some life, there’s no personal touch anywhere. Interesting.
I follow him up a staircase and down a short hall to a slightly ajar door; soft light from a rotating nightlight spills through the crack, throwing shapes onto the ceiling. Inside, the room is a deep red color with only a crib, a rocking chair, and a changing table. There’s no storage for Lily’s clothes, leaving them neatly folded on the seat of the chair in the corner.
“I haven’t updated it,” Dean says quietly, as if reading my thoughts.
“I’m not judging.”
“You are,” He says, “I can see it on your face.”
“You don’t know me well enough to attempt a guess at what I’m thinking. Let’s just stick to what we are here for.”
The longer he stares at the side of my face, the hotter it becomes, and the more my anxiety builds. It’s like a hand holding my heart hostage, squeezing tighter and tighter every second. It makes breathing hard, thinking even harder. Unable to take anymore, I step closer to the white crib where Lily is sleeping. She’s swaddled in a pink blanket, her long, dark lashes resting on the plump apples of her cheeks. She’s so small, so innocent it helps me realize exactly why I do this. Why I work with children. They are the best of us.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper so as not to wake her. She has a thick head of dark hair to match Dean’s and a small, little heart-shaped mouth that’s slightly parted in her sleep.
“Yes, she is,” He agrees from somewhere behind me.
“I’ll do this,” I tell him, “But it isn’t as easy as just leaving her to me. We have to work together.”
“She’s my daughter,” There’s a bite to his tone I wasn’t expecting, “I’m not just going to pawn her off for you to deal with. I need help, that’s what I’m hiring you for. Not to be some pseudo mom.”
“Hired help,” I breathe, “Got it.”
“She’ll sleep for another thirty minutes,” He grumbles, “I want to go over some paperwork.”
“Right,” I agree, following him from the bedroom and down the stairs silently, watching his body move. Despite his size, he moves with the kind of grace I’m not sure a man like him should be able to possess. He’s quiet, confident, and at ease in his white tee and gray sweats.
I haven’t appreciated a man for a long time, not been close enough to do so but I quietly examine him now, the way the fabric of his tee stretches to accommodate his shoulders, the cuffs tight around the arms, showing off his muscles and the ropes of veins that wrap around his forearms. His trim waist leads down to narrow hips, and while I’d never really stopped to appreciate a man’s ass before, I can appreciate Dean’s. I could only dream of having glutes I could bounce a penny off.
At the bottom of the stairs, I follow him back through to the kitchen, where Savannah now sits at the table, her cell in hand and a grin on her face.
“Oh, you’re back!” She jumps up, quickly shutting off the screen on her phone. I already know she was likely dirty talking with Killian, her boyfriend and Dean’s brother. “Mind if I get going, or do you still need me?”
Dean looks at me.
Oh shit.
Alone. Here. With him.
Alone.
“Um, yeah,” I squeak, and then clear my throat, “Yeah,” I repeat, “All fine.”
She hesitates.
