“See, young ears pick up everything, Taryn,” Brennan retells her, crossing his arms and slouching into the back of the couch. “Remember the rules.”
I tighten my arms around Elena’s small frame. “It means she’s not going anywhere.”
Elena nods and pushes herself off me to stand. She wearily approaches Taryn in her purple fluffy slippers and pajamas that she usually doesn’t get out of until around eleven. Which, looking at the watch on my wrist, is thirty minutes from now. A reminder that I have shit I need to get back to.
But this family matter needed my full attention.
Elena gazes up at her, the first hint of a genuine smile flickering across Taryn’s face, but then her lips twist to the side, and it falters. It’s like one of those indecisive neon signs when it can’t decide if it wants to be on or off and just flickers.
Taryn shifts her focus to Tristan, and his head immediately drops back to his game, avoiding her. “How old are they?”
“Tristan is seven, and Elena is five,” Jess speaks up for the first time since Taryn came downstairs.
“Am I—” She swallows. “Teaching them? Homeschooling?”
Jessica shakes her head. “In a few weeks, you’ll take them to school. I’ll go with you, of course, up until I leave. You’ll take them to after-school activities and sports on weekends and hang out with them when Cam, Bren, and Colt are out in the orchard or doing business things—pretty much anything a nanny would do.”
She huffs out a laugh. “You’ll trust me to leave? What if I tell someone what the Lindenvale children are actually up to on the hill besides avoiding everyone?”
“You can try to leave, but we’ll always be able to find you,” Cameron informs her.
Her eyes transform into little slits as she glares at him.
“Also, if you run or decide to tell someone, I can access all your bank accounts,” I enlighten. Her head whips toward me so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. I nod. “Pretty good savings account for a teacher that moves constantly and eats out all the time.”
She shifts her weight, uncomfortable in her skin under my stare. I know she eats out regularly from studying her bank statements. You can learn a lot about someone by their spending habits. Now, I have a sneaking suspicion she lied about her cooking abilities in her interview. If so, she should get disciplined for that. Blood rushes to my cock at the thought. I move to distract myself, placing an arm across the back of the couch.
She releases a shallow breath. “How did you…”
While I was at the house the other day, I went through some of the boxes still unpacked in her living room. Digging throughit all wasn’t difficult since she only moved with belongings that could fit in her truck bed. I found a storage container containing account documents, passwords, old taxes, and other vital documents.
You should be more careful with personal belongings, Taryn.You never know who’s lurking, waiting to steal that information.
“Doesn’t matter,” I quip. “All that matters is that everything you’ve worked for can be gone instantly. So, it’s either you have nothing in your bank account with Citibank, or you play house and make more than you’ll ever see in your profession.”
She blinks blankly at me a few times, the only sign of apparent anger in how her fists ball at her sides. Taryn’s knuckles are so white I expect the bones in her fingers to burst through the skin.
“Want to come see my room?” Elena’s small voice impeccably slices through the tension in the room.
Her tiny hands hold that power.
Taryn glances down at her, but Cameron gets up as she opens her mouth, cutting her off.
“I think Miss Taryn has had enough for today, Elena. You can show her tomorrow,” Cam says softly.
I catch Taryn dramatically rolling her eyes and mouthingMiss Tarynto herself.
I bite my bottom lip to withhold my smile at her frustration, but it still shows.
“No! I want to. Can I? Please…” she drawls. Taryn’s begging has my eyes drifting to the ceiling in a pathetic attempt to ignore the word’s hold on me. And God. The way she says it? Yeah, I could have her repeating that one breathy plea all day long. “I need to be out of that room for a little while, or I will go insane.”
Brennan eyes her suspiciously.
If Little Ghost wants to run again, she won’t get far. At this point—after the other night—I bet the twins are itching to drag their rough hands all over her soft tan skin with a dusting of freckles.
Jess stands to her feet. “I can go up with them.” She turns her head toward Tristan. “Do you want to come up with us, Tristan?”
His focus doesn’t stray from the device. The only answer he gives is a brief shake of his head as his light, dirty blond hair flops onto his forehead. Tristan is a quiet but kind kid. Sometimes I wish he would give me more, but he knows I’m not his father.
