Chapter 14
Riley
What the actual bleeding hell was he thinking? Did Spencer actually wake up this morning and think how can I fuck my nanny over real good today? I grip the wheel of my little car, sending her faster toward campus than I really should.
If Ivy was with me, never. I don’t know why I am so riled up over this. It’s Spencer. Not some guy I have feelings for. He literally pays me to care for his daughter. It’s not that much of an ask to accompany him to an event for his peace of mind . . . right?
I pull into the parking lot of the campus housing, having to pull over a little to let an old pickup truck pass by. A guy with a hat waves, smiling. His button-down shirt is open, his undershirt showing, and there’s a coat on the roof of his truck. Someone left in a hurry.
I beep the horn at him and wind my window down, patting the roof of my car. Hopefully he gets it.
I pull into a parking space and get out of the car.
When I look back, he’s out of his truck, grabbing the coat.
I give him a wave before grabbing my phone from my pocket. He waves and slips back in and drives off.
I’ve three messages from Stace when I finally bother to look at them.
Give me twenty, just at the town library.
Five minutes later . . .
Riley, I’m not home for another ten . . . Hello?
I can come to you? What did my asshat of a brother do now?
Searching the parking lot, I find her silver car, a light coat of the last snow of the season on the roof. Oh, Stace. Not as smooth as you think, babes.
I tap out a reply.
Coming up. If I see a tie on the door, too bad. I’m coming in regardless.
Geez, now you respond. Not cool Riles.
I chuckle. Someone’s pissy tonight. I make my way to the room I used to share with Stacey, and funnily enough, I don’t miss it. It feels odd to be back here, but I couldn’t spend another minute in that penthouse. I need a breather. From the apartment and the man.
I knock on the door, deciding actually barging in would test the friendship—the only friendship I have here. Stacey is throwing on a robe as she opens the door. Her cheeks are flushed and her words breathy.
“Hey, what did my dickhead brother do this time?”
I lean, looking behind her and into the apartment, entirely expecting to see she has company.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, shoot. Of course.” Her grip on the half-open door softens as she pushes it back. I walk inside. It feels odd to be back here.
My life was much simpler when I lived here. My study was my single focus. Now, I have study, a job, a baby to take care of, and I have to live with the world’s most frustrating single man on the planet.
“Sit. Come on, spill it.” Stace drops onto the sofa and pats the cushion beside her. She always has compassion and time for me. Spencer, however, doesn’t seem to get that from her.
As she waits, searching my face like I am about to let slip something juicy she could add to her list of things to hold against her brother, I stiffen.
“Ah, he’s . . .”
Why can’t I say anything? Why do I feel the overwhelming need to protect her brother?
I put it down to his intimate connection to Ivy and try to change the subject. “He freaked out when Ivy rolled over, it was kind of sweet.”
Stace stares at me like I’m the one who’s lost it.
“I know I kind of blew in here like something was up, but I think I overreacted?” I twist my face into a cringe.
“Look, Spencer is arrogant and single-minded on the best of days. I mean, look at our parents. Is there any wonder the both of us are kind of out of touch when it comes to other people’s needs?”
Are we still talking about Spencer?
My brows fall.
Stacey leans back and crosses her arms. “If you’re done with the job, you don’t have to stay.” She chews on her bottom lip. “Your room is still empty, Riles.” Her gaze drifts to the doorway leading to my old room.
“You know I’m not going to leave Ivy. I can’t do that.”
“You do realize that when your year is up, he will be on his own, anyway. Maybe rip the Band-Aid off now; he’ll figure it out.”
My mind flashes back to the moment Spencer and I shared in his bedroom. He’s never looked so further from figuring it out.
No, I can’t do it.
Besides, even if I wanted to give up on Ivy—which I absolutely don’t—I need the money to stay and finish my MBA. Nothing will derail me from that. My family is depending on me.
I’m depending on me.
I will not end up tethered to some Farmer Joe for security’s sake, only to end up below the poverty line while I spit out his ten kids.
I’ve seen what the majority of women in my small county end up with.
What kind of role model would I be to my younger sisters if I took that route?
The thought alone gives me chills, and not the good kind.
“I understand that, but I can’t dip on him now. It doesn’t feel right.”
Stace tilts her head, confusion tugging at her brows as she sucks in a breath. “Okay, your choice.”
It is my choice.
I feel stupid for coming over here now. I’ve never needed anyone else to solve my problems before, I don’t know why I thought I did this time.
“I should get going. Thanks for the chat.” I rise and Stace does the same, adjusting her robe around her.
“See you tomorrow for lunch?” she asks as we walk to the front door.
“I have Ivy tomorrow, so I’ll have to take class online. How about Thursday?”
“What? Don’t tell me you and my brother have worked out a schedule?” she scoffs.
The irritation that flares in my veins doesn’t even surprise me at this point.
“We have. Sort of. Mrs. Henderson takes Ivy two days a week so I can get to campus. Spencer takes over after work and every second night.” Now Stacey stands with shock written over her face.
“Ivy has all but outgrown her bassinet. We’ll move her into her room in the crib in the next weeks. Just waiting for Spencer to set it up.”
Stacey’s brows flutter up. “Riles, I hate to break it to you, but you’re better off doing the crib assembly yourself. My brother is useless when it comes to that stuff.”
I clench my teeth and manage a smile before I one-arm hug her and pull the door closed behind me.
What the hell was I thinking coming here?
I’m back in the parking lot and sitting in the driver’s seat before I realize. I turn over the engine and back out of the space, and head for the penthouse.
I mull over what set me off in the first place. Logically, I am paid to take care of Ivy. It shouldn’t matter where that happens, especially on a weekend.
But it’s the idea of Spencer treating Ivy as a dirty little secret held up in some motel room out of the way that sets my blood on fire.
Like we’re the afterthought, the messy inconvenience he needs to pay penance to.
And I hate that.
For Ivy.
I hear the crying before I even get through the apartment’s oversized front door. Inside, I toss the keys in the bowl and close the door behind me before tracking toward the sound.
“Ives, it’s alright, baby. Please stop crying. I’ll get this, I promise.” Spencer’s low tone echoes up the hallway. I stop short of the door.
Ivy releases another bloodcurdling scream, and Spencer curses.
A packet tears as a squeaking noise huffs.
I lean on the wall by his bedroom door and listen.
The tiles are cold on my socked feet, and I make to move. Inside the door, I find Spencer grappling to secure a diaper around little legs that are kicking up a storm. He releases the baby and reaches for the bag on the bed.
Ivy is putting up a fight as Spencer wipes her down once more and tries again with the diaper. When her little bottom is clean, his hand dives into the bag again. They must have gone out for supplies while I was gone.
Didn’t think I was gone that long . . .
A bottle of baby powder is in his grip. One-handed, he uses his teeth to twist the cap. With an overenthusiastic squeeze, he aims it at her bottom. White power explodes over the baby and the bed.
“Ah, fuck.”
I purse my lips and hold back the inappropriate giggle that wants out.
White powdery snow lines the tiles.
Spencer adjusts his footing, getting closer as he stoops down to powder Ivy again. His feet slip and he hisses.
His grip on the powder tightens, sending a plume of powder above him. It rains down, coating his hair, shoulders, clothes, and the floor.
I can’t help the giggle-snort that slips out.
“The hell?” Spencer turns. Too quickly.
Feet scrambling wildly over the powdery floor as his arms circle, he tries to stay upright. I step in, trying to stop him from falling backward. Large hands grip my arms and gravity wins out.
Spencer hits the tile on his back, pulling me down with him.
I land with a thud on top of him.
His face tightens as a wheeze rattles down his throat.
“Ah, shite. You eejit.” I roll off him and kneel on the powdery floor at his side.
I wait for him to take a breath.
His face reddens, his chest not moving. He’s winded.
“Breathe, Spencer.” My hand brushes his jaw.
He jerks, seemingly back to life as his eyes flick to my face.
“Christ, O’Malley. You almost damn well killed me.”
“I almost killed you? That’s rich, coming from the man using me to break his bloody fall.”
A half smile tips up on one side of his mouth.
He grabs my arm and hauls me closer as that smile fades.
“Come down here. Wallow with me, will you?”
I don’t have the heart to say no, so I shift on my seat and lay next to him. He raises the powder bottle still in his hand. “Surprisingly dangerous, this stuff.”
I chuckle. “I think you used it wrong.”
His gaze slides to me. “Apparently.”
Ivy babbles away on the bed, seemingly happier now that her bottom is clean and bare. The bed moves as she kicks and wriggles.
“Riley . . .” Spencer starts.
“It’s okay. I think I overreacted.”
He scoffs a laugh. “You think?”
“No. Yes . . . ? I don’t know. I hate that Ivy is a dirty little secret for you.”
He rolls over, placing the powder bottle on the floor between us, and props his head on one hand, elbow slipping in the powder.
“I’m afraid that if it gets out, I won’t have the means to provide for her, you know. I am well aware of my nepo-baby life. I hate that it’s what I’ve let my life become.”
“So why don’t you build something of your own?”
He studies my expression for a beat before his hand reaches toward my face. He retracts it, inches shy of my cheek. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I thought for a little while that bull riding could be that. But even on a team, the income is not enough for this place.”
“Well, you do have very defining taste, Lockwood.”
His gaze wanders my face, tracks down my neck and back up to meet my own. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Heat flushes my cheeks, and I clear my throat.
I rise from the powder and glance at the bed to make sure Ivy is secure. “I’ll get the vacuum.”
“Riley. Don’t.”
“It’s okay, Spencer. That’s what you pay me for.”
The way his face falls has me slipping on my socked, powder-ridden feet out the door and down the hallway.
Before something like feelings have the chance to catch up.