Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Foster
I recheck my phone, for the ten millionth time since Eden walked out of here on Friday.
I expected to get a call from the agency telling me I was getting a new cleaner again, or worse, that my rudeness led them to cancel my client status.
Then I remembered what I pay them each month, and that I received zero notice or communication when Tiffany left.
I should call and complain, but this agency vets their employees, which is why they cost so much.
Besides, I’m an easy guy, or usually, I am.
Anyway, that’s why I’m up and dressed for the day, sipping on a protein shake, waiting for the new cleaner to arrive.
I’m sure Eden asked to be moved. My stomach twists.
I shouldn’t have dismissed her like that, but hearing her story, talking about growing up in the system, the same as me, it affected me in ways I don’t want to think about.
I was an ass, and I should probably get her number from the agency and at least apologize.
I’ll do that as soon as the new person gets here.
I felt so guilty for our interaction on Friday that I spent the entire weekend thinking about it. About her. I couldn’t have slept in even if I wanted to today. My conscience wouldn’t let me.
At ten minutes until eight, the door handle moves, and my eyes go to the door, waiting to see who enters. When it’s Eden that I see, with her long black hair pulled up in a messy knot, my breath hitches.
Her big blue eyes are cautious as she notices me. “Good morning, Mr. Vaughn.”
“Foster,” I correct her. “Good morning, Eden,” I reply. She looks stunned at my words, and I’m once again mentally kicking myself in the ass. I open my mouth to apologize immediately, but she beats me to it.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I was out of line. I never should have talked to you that way.” She breaks eye contact and gazes down at her feet.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and her eyes pop to mine. “I’m sorry that I dismissed you the way that I did,” I tell her. “I don’t talk about my past much, and even the little bit that slipped on Friday was more than I wanted to deal with. I took that out on you. I was wrong.”
Her eyes widen, as if she can’t believe I would apologize to her. My mind instantly goes to what kind of men she’s been hanging around, if she’s not used to an apology.
She nods once. “Is there anything you’d like me to do today, outside of the normal routine?”
“Have you had breakfast?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head.
“I was going to make some eggs and toast. Sit and eat with me.” I nod toward one of the stools at the island. It’s a lie. I wasn’t going to make breakfast; I just drank mine, but something about her diving right into work after our shared apology doesn’t sit right with me.
“Oh, no, I’m okay,” she says, her words rushed.
“I insist. This is what I’d like for you to do today, outside of the normal routine.” I busy myself pulling eggs out of the fridge and a skillet out of the cabinet, giving her time to decide.
“I really should get to work.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the next.
I make her nervous.
“We both know my house is clean and that there’s nothing pressing for you to get started on. Sit down and eat.”
This time, I hold her stare until she slips off her shoes, places her bag on the floor, and pads toward me in nothing but her sock-covered feet.
Something about that has my chest tightening.
Probably because she’s the only woman ever to be here, outside of Tiffany, the guys’ wives, and well, Hope, Coach’s wife.
They’ve visited a few times—just friends, family, and staff.
No woman has been here just for me, intimately, and watching Eden in my home, shoeless, that’s exactly how it feels.
Intimate.
It might also be because the last woman I cooked this exact meal for was my ex-girlfriend back in college.
Either way, the invitation is out there, and I find myself wanting her to sit and eat with me.
It’s the right thing to do, right? To show her I’m not a troll.
That’s what I’m telling myself as I ignore the flutter in my chest while she hops up onto the stool.
“Can I help?” she asks softly.
“I’ve got this,” I tell her, cracking eggs into a bowl, adding some milk, salt, and pepper, before whisking them together. Silence hangs between us, and for someone who has never hated the silence, it’s annoying the fuck out of me right now.
“How was your weekend?” I ask her.
“Oh, um, it was fine.” Her voice is high, telling me that it was indeed not fine.
“I’ll ask again. How was your weekend?”
She sighs heavily. “It really was fine. Although,” she’s quick to add, already knowing I’m not one to give up, “I did spend most of it worried I was going to get a call for reassignment for today.”
I’m just about to pour the eggs into the skillet, but I freeze to look at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip. I suddenly have the urge to reach out and free it from her teeth, only to trace it with my tongue to soothe the ache.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t think these kinds of thoughts. Not ever.
“I was up early today, waiting for your replacement to arrive.” Her skin goes pale, and I realize how my words sounded. “Shit. Not that I wanted to replace you. I didn’t. I just assumed after the way I acted on Friday, you’d ask to be reassigned.”
“No,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t do that.”
This time, I’m the one who’s nodding my response as I pour the scrambled eggs into the hot skillet. I push them around with the spatula before dropping some toast into the toaster.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” Eden asks.
“Are you afraid I’m going to burn it?” I tease, baffled because I really only ever tease with the guys. I’m not this person. Not anymore. Making a pretty girl smile has been low on my list of priorities since being drafted.
“The jury’s still out,” she says, and this time, I look up just in time to catch a soft smile tugging at her lips.
Damn.
“I see how it is. Just because I’m an athlete, I can’t cook; is that it?”
“I mean, you pay me to clean for you,” she teases.
“Touché.” I chuckle. The toast pops up, and I quickly slather some butter on it, place it on the two plates I have sitting out, and then divide up the eggs.
“What, no cheese? No hot sauce? What kind of food establishment is this?” She pretends to be appalled, but that smile that tugs at those full, kissable lips tells a different story.
“Ask, and you shall receive.” I wink before grabbing a bag of shredded cheese and a bottle of hot sauce and placing them on the counter in front of her.
“I was just teasing,” she says, with a soft laugh.
“I can’t have you dissing my cooking skills,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have anyone to tell, even if they weren’t perfectly fluffy and delicious,” she says, shoving another bite of egg into her mouth.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“My best friend, Carrie, is married and has two kids. I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like. They invite me over all the time, and I know that I’m welcome, but I hate tagging along on their family things just because she feels sorry for me.”
“Does she?” I ask.
“Does she what?”
“Does she feel sorry for you? Maybe your best friend wants to make memories with you and her family.”
She pauses, letting my words sink in.
“You’re right,” she agrees. “It’s my hang-up. When you’re always the one left behind, it feels like pity when you fifth wheel it with your best friend, her husband, and her two kids.”
“I understand. I have four best friends who are also my teammates, and they’ve all settled down and are starting or trying to start families.
Sometimes, I feel like the odd man out, but I still go.
I still participate because they’re my family.
My guess is that Carrie and her husband both see you as family.
And you’re Aunt Eden to her kids, aren’t you? ”
A light pink blush coats her cheeks. “Yeah,” she says. “I love those kids.”
I nod. “If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that family is what you make it.
So next time they invite you over, go. Don’t worry about being the fifth wheel.
Hell, I’m the ninth wheel, but I still go.
They’re my people, and when you grow up not having people, you cherish and hold on to them when they come into your life.
” Fuck, I just need to shut up. What is it about this woman that has me opening up to her more than I ever have with my found family that I’ve been lecturing her about?
“You know,” she says, before wiping her mouth and tossing her napkin onto her now-empty plate, “you’re pretty insightful for a jock.”
I chuckle. “Don’t you have work to do?”
She slides off the stool, offers me a sassy grin, and salutes me. “Sir, yes, sir,” she says, barely holding on to her laughter, as she moves back toward the living room to gather her bag and change into her shoes.
As for me, I stand still, my hands flat on the counter, staring down at the granite while I will my cock to deflate. Hearing her call me sir, watching those words leave those kissable lips… yeah, I need this counter to hide me while I run stats in my mind to get myself in check.
“I’ll start upstairs if that’s okay?” Eden asks.
“That’s fine. I’m going to run out for a while.” I have nowhere to go, but I’m going anyway. I can’t stay here. I’m not me—at least not the new me—when this woman is around, and I need to put some distance between us. “If I’m not back before you leave, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“See you.” She waves and jogs up the stairs.