Cold as (N)ice (Sticks and Vows #1)

Chapter 2

2

IRENE

“Oh my gosh…”

Irene’s fingers trembled as she stared at the glowing screen of her phone, the text messages blurring behind the tears pooling in her eyes. She pressed her lips together, her chest tightening with an ache she couldn’t quite put into words. A deep, shaky breath rattled through her, but it wasn’t enough to steady the whirlwind inside her.

She’d had a sinking feeling the moment her boss told her not to come in for the next few weeks—and then sweetened the deal by offering to pay her anyway. Yeah, something was waaaay off. Now, reading the message, she had her answer, and it left her more stunned than relieved.

Working for Theo had been simple enough—a job that paid just enough to keep the lights on and food on the table. The hours were flexible, and the money was a godsend in the aftermath of her divorce. That grueling, soul-sucking chapter of her life had been nothing short of a nightmare. Years of arguments, accusations, and empty promises had eroded any love that once existed. But the moment Eric had raised his hand to her?

That was the line she refused to let him cross. She could still see the confusion and fear in Stephen’s big, bright eyes when he’d signed to her, Did Daddy hurt you? His tiny fingers trembling as he formed the words had been the final straw. No child— especially not her child —would ever grow up believing that kind of behavior was normal or excusable.

Her ex hadn’t taken the separation well. Of course, he’d done everything from the predictable playbook:

Show up with a Happy Meal for Stephen— check .

Bring flowers to her doorstep— check .

Send overly sweet text messages dripping with false promises— check .

Declare undying love and beg for a second chance— check .

And for a fleeting moment, she’d fallen for it - believed him. Well, almost… but no amount of staged sweetness could erase the years of bitterness or undo the scars left by his anger.

Irene had made her decision, and no matter how hard the road ahead seemed, she wouldn’t go back especially not after this last chance. If her ex was a cat, he’d just used his ninth life.

She was done.

“I’m so stupid,” she whispered, her voice breaking as hot tears slipped down her cheeks. She clutched the phone to her chest as though the weight of the messages it carried might somehow anchor her spiraling thoughts.

“I’ve made so many mistakes…” Her gaze lifted toward the ceiling, her words little more than a prayer. “I just need a break… please.”

Her eyes drifted back to the text, her vision clearing enough to reread it:

Hey Irene! Great news! Remember that guy I work with?

He needs a maid, and I recommended you. It’s full-time, not part-time, and you can bring Stephen with you. He won’t be home most of the time, and he knows ASL, so if Stephen’s there, he can communicate.

I’m guessing you’re busy, but he wants to meet you, give you a key, have you sign a contract, and start ASAP.

I’ll send you his info.

Her stomach twisted with nerves and uncertainty. The address was in one of those older neighborhoods downtown—big, stately homes with manicured lawns and wrought-iron fences. She’d driven past those streets before, marveling at how far removed they felt from her tiny one-bedroom studio. Even when she was married, she and her ex had barely managed to rent a modest three-bedroom.

Now, it was just her and Stephen in their cramped little space.

Everything okay, Mommy?

Irene was startled at the gentle pat on her arm - a soft, curious touch beside her as Stephen quickly maneuvered his hands, asking her a question. She saw him watching her intently, his wide eyes full of concern. She managed a tender smile, smoothing a hand over his unruly brown hair.

Yes , she signed, her movements deliberate, careful to keep her emotions from spilling over. Mommy is happy.

His face lit up with relief.

I like it when you’re happy. You have a pretty smile, Mommy.

The lump in her throat grew, but she forced herself to nod.

I love you, pumpkin.

I love you, too.

For Stephen, she would do anything— anything . He deserved stability, security, and every opportunity she could provide. If that meant working harder than she ever had before, juggling impossible schedules, and stretching every dollar, she’d do it all without hesitation.

She hesitated, taking his little hands in hers so he would pay attention as she spoke. This was important and she needed him to understand what was going on.

I have a meeting tomorrow night with my new boss. If you come with me, you have to be very good. Okay?

His head bobbed in an eager nod.

I’ll be good. Can I take my Gameboy?

Yes, she signed, her lips curving into a genuine smile.

That used, bright green Gameboy was his pride and joy. She’d found it at a resale shop, and though its black-and-white screen and ancient games weren’t flashy, Stephen loved it like it was the newest gadget on the market.

All right, she murmured before gesturing to him – and reaching out to ruffle his hair again. Let’s fix dinner, and then we’ll read the book tonight.

It’s okay?

She nodded, her hands moving deliberately . They had learned together as he grew, but the impression that she wasn’t as fast as her son always lingered in her mind. It was like speaking two different languages, but at the same time sometimes. It’s okay. I might not be as fast as you, but I still want to talk to my big boy and tell him all the stories that I can.

Stephen’s grin melted her heart.

Their conversations weren’t always perfect—she sometimes forgot a sign or had to spell out a word she didn’t know. But they made it work. They always found a way.

“I love you,” she whispered again, needing the sound of those words to ground her. She glanced back at her phone, her resolve strengthening as she thought of the opportunity in front of her. “Please, God, let this work. Let me figure out how to handle everything. For Stephen’s sake.”

As Irene rose to prepare dinner, she carried a fragile sense of hope in her heart—a hope that this time, maybe, they’d finally find their footing. That tiny voice deep in her soul was also there, saying, ‘ Just you wait… ’ And she sighed heavily, refusing to let those thoughts come to fruition in her mind.

There would be enough time to worry later.

T he next evening, Irene texted the man as she pulled into the driveway, unsure what to expect. Theo said that the guy was really nice and easygoing, offering to pay her weekly. A part of her wanted to clarify if it was ‘ Weakly’ or ‘ Weekly,’ but she didn’t want to speak her mind until she at least had the job.

Mr. Coure should I come to the front door or the side door?

It’s Coeur – and the side door is fine.

Wincing, she quickly turned to Stephen.

I spelled his name wrong – it’s Coeur, she messaged and then stuck out her tongue, making a funny face, rolling her eyes . Go figure, right?

Yeah. Silly Mommy.

I know!

And Irene caught her breath as the door beside the massive garage door opened. A tall, slim-built man was standing there in baggy gray sweatpants and a snug fitting dark green T-shirt that said ‘Coyotes’ on the front. His blond hair was pulled back into a top knot on his head as he looked at her with a flat, grim expression.

“Crap,” she whispered aloud, hesitating, but Stephen was already opening his door to go say hello to the new person in their small world. He was especially excited that there was a chance he could actually ‘talk’ to this person who supposedly knew sign language too.

Stepping out of the vehicle, she saw Stephen excitedly holding up his Gameboy before shoving it under his armpit and signing to her new boss and to her shock, the man knelt and gestured ‘ Hello’ back.

Be still my beating heart, Irene thought in disbelief, swallowing back tears as she realized that he might look grim, but he was going to be kind to Stephen. He stood up again and gestured as well as spoke, his voice guarded, cold, and blunt.

“Should I sign to you too?” Mr. Coeur began, giving her a terse look that softened once again when he looked at her son. “I’m not the greatest at ASL, but…”

Mommy says the same thing, Stephen begins, but you are doing fine.

Thanks, buddy. I appreciate that. It’s been a while. What is your name?

Stephen. Mommy said you are Mr. Cur.

Call me Barrett , her new boss signed and looked at her again. Was that a ‘ come get your offspring, woman ’ sort of look?

Irene could have died right there.

Her son called her boss a ‘cur’ to his face. Sure, it was innocent, but a part of her wondered if the label fit. Every time he looked at her, there was a sour grimace that would race across his features almost like she was physically causing him to flinch or become ill.

She waved and moved quickly beside her son, signing and speaking.

“Stephen, we don’t want to be a bother. Mommy is here to talk to Mr. Coeur about the position and…”

“You are no bother,” her boss interrupted her, replying easily and gestured for her son’s benefit. “Stephen, do you like games?”

Yes!

“Let’s go inside, and you can play a video game while your mother and I speak,” Barrett said evenly, giving her the ‘ I-sucked-on-a-lemon’ look again. Without another word, he turned and led her through the garage entrance to the doorway that led to his home.

As Irene stepped inside, she swallowed.

This was the place she was supposed to clean for him? The house was clean – because it was nearly empty. He walked into the kitchen and got out three bottles of water, handing one to Stephen and one to her, before nodding to her son and gesturing slowly.

Come on. I’ll set you up on the game. Just don’t push any buttons on the remote because that controls the speakers and lighting.

“Mr. Coeur…” she began, instantly panicking and worrying that something would get broken. The man didn’t have much, but that television alone would be enough to break her financially for the next several years. “Mr. Coeur, wait. Maybe this is a…”

“Barrett,” he replied bluntly, not bothering to look at her as he patted the couch for her son and turned on the entertainment system. The screen glowed brightly – almost as much as Stephen’s smile.

Mario Cart?

Stephen nodded. I’ve never played it. I’ve got Pokémon Red in my Gameboy.

That’s a cool system, Barrett said and looked over his shoulder at her before turning back to Stephen. Irene stood there silently, her arms wrapped protectively around her as she watched their conversation, her mind filled with confusion. Who was this stranger?

Have you used this before?

No, sir.

It’s fun. Pick your car and play for a little bit. If you need me, I’ll be close.

It’s okay?

Yes.

Will you play with me?

Irene sucked in her breath, ready to answer, and saw Barrett look at her again – giving her a quelling look that silenced her. Was he judging her? Mad at her for bringing Stephen with her? Why didn’t Theo tell her that her new boss was grumpy?

Maybe she would have asked the neighbor to babysit Stephen, but she hated to do so because that meant a few hours of zero communication for her son. Her neighbor couldn’t sign, but was a good backup for her simply because she never charged.

Barrett rose to his feet as the game loaded on the screen, giving Stephen a thumbs-up, before turning to her. He walked into the kitchen where she was standing in the open-concept home. Immediately tensing, she felt herself bristling on the defensive… but about what? Her new boss made her feel antsy.

“Do you want some coffee?” he said coolly.

“N-No, thank you.”

“Something wrong?”

“There’s a lot that’s wrong,” she blurted out and hesitated. “You don’t need a maid. You barely have any furniture here, and it’s fairly clean. I mean, I can go over it, but you don’t need someone here for maybe one or two days…”

“Five – maybe more,” he interrupted bluntly, staring at her. “And I’ll be the one to decide what I need. You’re not a bother, but you are unexpected; that much is for sure.”

“What?” she whispered, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You need a job – and I need this to feel like more of a home. I thought Batiste explained that to you?”

“He said you wanted me to do your laundry,” she nodded and rubbed her arms. “Is it just me, or is it chilly in here?”

“Sorry. I’m usually pretty warm. Feel free to adjust the thermostat and make yourself at home.”

“No. I’ll wear a sweater.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“You don’t have to be so nice to Stephen,” she hesitated, unsure what to make of this man who was barely touching on the terms of the job. “If he breaks something then…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

“He’s a kid – and children will be children,” Barrett shrugged. “Let him enjoy himself while he is here and you are busy working.”

“Doing what?” she replied, waving a hand toward the empty countertops and opening a cupboard door – before doing a double take. No dishes – there was a stack of paper plates inside, almost screaming her point. “No dishes, no rugs, and no furniture – what am I supposed to do?”

“I need the bathroom cleaned, my bedroom too. You can do all sorts of tidying up and…”

“How ‘tidy’ do you expect ‘tidy’ to be?” she chuckled nervously, not sure where she should clean at all. Did he need her to scrub the grout? Steam the seams of the marble floor?

“Make it feel like a home,” he repeated again, his voice distinctly on edge, almost like he was trying not to lash out at her. He yanked open a drawer, withdrawing a wallet as he extended a credit card toward her, shaking it almost in frustration. “This is for you to use to get a few things – just keep the receipts.”

“Huh?” Irene just stared at him, stunned.

“M-A-K-E-IT-A-H-O-M-E,” he spelled out and gestured at the same time, the corner of his lip curling upward sarcastically. “Get a smelly candle, maybe a bathmat, pots and pans if you need them to cook. Fix it to where it feels welcoming.”

Great , she thought wildly, biting her tongue. Sarcasm worked every time with me – just look at my ex , she thought, snarling silently. “You don’t want a maid – you want a housekeeper… or a mommy.”

“What did Batiste pay you?” he snapped, frowning at her.

“Twenty-five dollars an hour.”

“I’ll double it. Now, enough with the small talk - when can you start?”

She blinked, her mind reeling. “Excuse me?”

“I’m hungry. The towels need to be washed. You’re going to need to make a list of things you need,” he said firmly – prying her hand from her crossed arms and pressing the credit card in her palm pointedly. “And I’m paying for my stuff that you pick out. So, let’s get to it.”

“What about your wife? Won’t she want to have some say…”

“Not married. Not interested,” he replied, getting the weird expression again. “You’re divorced, right?”

Irene did a double take, wondering what Barrett was leading to with that question. She’d just extracted herself from the proverbial frying pan and wasn’t about to leap back into the flames. No, thank you. She made that stupid move two months ago and regretted it instantly. Haunted her, which would be a better description, she thought silently before answering him curtly.

“Yes – and not looking in the slightest,” she backed away from him warily, staring at him in almost disbelief.

“Good. Me, neither. I don’t need the drama.”

They stared at each other mutinously, and this had to be the weirdest interview she’d ever had. Did this mean she had the job because she hadn’t seen a contract yet? For a moment, Irene wondered if she had completely misunderstood or misread the man.

“So you want me to work full-time for you, getting you things for your house to make it feel cozy, do a little cleaning, and some baking? Have I got that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And the contract is where?”

“Do you need a contract?”

“Don’t you?” she gaped, stunned. “I mean, you literally just handed me your credit card. You told me to go shopping on your dime. I know where you live… don’t you want a contract with me so you can sue me if something happens?”

“Do I need one? Batiste vouched for you. Did you get sued by him? Should I be worried that you are planning to rob me blind?” he asked in rapid fire and then hesitated, relaxing the slightest bit, almost looking kind as his stance relaxed slightly. “If you need a contract, I can draw up one – but I don’t think that I have anything to worry about or you wouldn’t be here.”

“True,” she admitted in a hushed voice.

“You need the job, and you’ll find I’m pretty flexible about things. The only thing I ask is if you get smelly stuff for the house, make sure it’s not weird. Pick out what you would like, and don’t cheap out. If lightning strikes and I happen to bring a date home, then I need to make sure it looks and smells good.”

Irene swallowed, nodding.

“Are you good?” he said simply, watching her. “Or do you need that contract?”

“I’m good,” she whispered.

“And you can start today?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect,” he said before relaxing slightly and holding out his hand to shake hers. “I’m gonna order a pizza because I’m starving. There’s paper and pencil in the junk drawer here,” he paused, yanking open one of the kitchen drawers where a few double-A batteries rolled loosely along with a stack of Post-its and a single paperclip. “Make a list of what you need. Don’t forget my towels, and I’m gonna relax for a bit.”

“Certainly,” she nodded. “I’ll get Stephen to move so you can…”

“He’s fine,” he interrupted bluntly, cutting her off and turning away from her as if to end the conversation. To her shock, Barrett moved toward Stephen and signed.

Scoot over – and restart the game. I’m Luigi.

I’m Toad – and you’re gonna play with me?

Heck yeah, I’m playing – and you’re gonna l-o-o-o-o-ose, Barrett spelled out in an exaggerated manner shaking his hands to draw out the word, making Stephen laugh as her son immediately scooted over.

To her shock, Barrett then flopped down in the center of the couch. The disheveled man-bun practically bobbing on his head, and took up a game controller… grinning at the television.

And this was her new boss?