I'd had absolutely no idea what to say to that. So I'd changed the subject to Charlotte's Web, and pretended my face wasn't on fire.
Now it was Saturday, and I was deeply regretting every life choice that had led me to this moment, me sprawled on the morning room rug, completely out of breath, while a seven-year-old danced around me in triumph.
"Tag! You're it again!"
"Millie." I gasped for air. "I've been 'it' for the last ten minutes. This game is rigged."
"You're really slow, Miss Claire." She giggled. "Come on, get up! Chase me!"
"I'm twenty-six years old and questioning my health. Give me a second."
"That's old," she said seriously.
"I'm going to remember you said that."
She shrieked with laughter and darted behind the reading chair, her braids flying. The morning room had become an obstacle course: furniture pushed aside, pillows scattered,and all semblance of the dignified tutoring space completely demolished. I didn't care. Millie was currently on break, and her joy was worth any amount of chaos.
I hauled myself up and made a show of sneaking toward her hiding spot, my footsteps exaggeratedly slow. "Fee fi fo fum," I intoned. "I smell the blood of a cheating little girl..."
Millie's giggles gave away her position. I lunged and froze mid-stride.
Nathaniel stood in the doorway, shoulder against the frame, arms crossed. He wasn't smiling, but his expression wasn't disapproving either. I couldn’t quite figure him out but he didn’t say anything to interrupt the moment.
"Mr. Sterling." The greeting came out breathless and slightly mortified. I was pretty sure my hair looked like a bird's nest. "I didn't hear you come in."
"You were busy, and it’s Nathaniel." His voice was low, amused. "Don't stop on my account."
"Daddy!" Millie popped out from behind the chair. "Claire's it, but she'sterrible. She can't catch anything."
"I can catch colds," I muttered. "Does that count?"
Nathaniel's lips twitched. "Maybe you should give her a head start, Millie."
"She's had a million head starts!"
"Then she clearly needs practice." His eyes met mine over Millie's head. "Carry on. I'll just... observe."
Observe.There was that word again. I should have told him to leave, to stop watching, to let me do my job without his distracting presence. Instead, I found myself chasing Millie around the furniture again while hyper-aware of his gaze tracking my every movement.
It wasn't predatory, nothing like Victoria's assessing glares. This was warmer. Heavier. I felt it like a physical touch when hisattention followed the swing of my hair, the flush on my cheeks, the way I laughed when Millie faked left and went right.
This is your employer,I reminded myself sternly.The man who bulldozed into your life. Stop feeling... whatever this is.
My body wasn't listening.
Millie's boundless energy eventually hit a wall. One minute, she was giggling maniacally; the next, she'd collapsed on the rug beside me, yawning so wide I could count her molars.
"I'm sleepy," she announced.
"That's what happens when you run circles around your elderly tutor," I joked.
"You're not elderly. Just old."
"Thank you for that distinction."
Nathaniel pushed off from the doorway. "Come on, pumpkin. Bedtime." He crossed the room and scooped her up effortlessly, her small body immediately curling into him.
I watched him hold her, his large hand splayed across her back, her head nestled against his shoulder, and a dangerous feeling knocked on my heart’s door. It was tender. It was real. And I was in serious trouble if watching a man carry his daughter made me feel like this.
