Chapter 9 #2
Not wanting to pry, Stace hadn’t looked beyond that the first time she’d glanced at the single page, but she was looking at it now.
She was feeling it too. The notes of familiarity when it came to how Adrianne talked about Brock.
The way she’d was just a little too toothy to truly be friendly.
Worse was that glint in her eyes that said as soon as she was out of here, the claws of rivalry would come out.
Not where Stace could see them, but she gave herself mere days before she started to feel them digging into her back.
This wasn’t her business, Stace forced herself to decide. And for sure, it wasn’t a game she had any desire to play. Not with Adrianne or anyone else.
Tucking the resume into the notebook, she closed the bright green cover and set it down on the end table. “Well, thanks for coming,” she said, doing her best to sound professional. “I’ll make sure Brock gets this information just as soon as he gets home.”
“Mmhm,” the woman said, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. She crinkled her nose, her tone saccharine as she added, “I think I’ll just wait here until he gets back. I know how hectic life can be. Can’t hurt to make sure he actually gets my information. You could get busy, you know.”
“I’ll make us some tea.” Stung, Stace jumped off the couch and went into the kitchen.
Standing at the sink, she took deep breaths until her hands stopped shaking.
She bit her bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to walk right back out there and tell her to leave.
She had no business doing that; this wasn’t her house.
But it wasn’t Adrianne’s either, and she didn’t at all like being accused of ‘losing’ Adrianne’s interview before she could think of it herself.
This was stupid to let herself get her feelings hurt by some jealous local woman she didn’t even know.
Stace didn’t even want to know her now. In fact, if she could leave through the back, she would have done it already.
The only reason she hadn’t, was because she’d promised to watch Pops until Brock got back.
Plus, Pops had Lily, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself further by sneaking back to his room, grabbing the baby and bolting.
Trapped, needing some way to occupy herself so she didn’t end up standing there, feeling ridiculous until Brock came home—his home, not hers, goodness no; just his—she did the only thing she could think of.
She made Pops his caramel apple pie, with a crunchy, sweet, strudel topping, just the way Pops said he liked it.
It was still baking when Brock came home.
She heard the motorized rumble of a Land Rover coming from behind the house, but by the time she’d finished cleaning up the last of the dirty dishes enough to steal a peek outside, she couldn’t see the vehicle.
She did, however, glimpse the top of Brock’s brown hair waltz past the window on his way to the front door.
The temptation to run out into the living room in time to meet him the second he opened the door was strong. Just not as strong as her need not to have to socialize with Adrianne again.
The kitchen was tidy and clean, but Stace threw herself into scrubbing down the counters and stove top all over again, suddenly terrified that letting Adrianne in at all might have been the wrong thing to do.
What if Brock got mad at her? Oh, God, what if Pops was mad at her too.
Was that why he’d retreated to his room immediately upon coming home. He was still back there too.
She’d screwed up, she was certain of it.
She winced when she heard the creak of door hinges followed by Brock’s voice offering up a slightly perplexed, “Hello, Addy. What are you doing here?”
“I was applying for the companion position I read about in the paper. I had no idea you lived here. What happened to the house on the hill?”
“Hell, I haven’t lived there in three years,” Brock replied.
“You should have told me you moved,” Stace heard Adrianne tease. “I could have thrown you one heck of a welcome home party.”
“Pops and I managed just fine without one.” Brock raised his voice, the heavy clump of his boots coming closer as he called out, “Hey, Stace?”
Flustered, Stace grabbed for her rag and found a stubbornly sticky place to scrub, right up until she realized it was actually a chip in the stovetop and she was making it worse.
Brock came into the kitchen. “You okay?” he softly asked, dropping his tone, probably so Adrianne wouldn’t hear him.
She nodded, not at all sure Adrianne was still on the couch instead of lurking around the corner somewhere, eavesdropping on them.
“Look at me.”
Her tummy tightened. Stopping mid-scrub, she sighed and then obedient looked him in the eye.
“I didn’t know she was coming, or I would have been here. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”
It wasn’t him making her uncomfortable, and knowing she had no right to be upset only made her more so.
She swallowed the feeling, managing a small smile and a nod so he’d know she really was fine and to please go take care of their guest—his guest—his other guest. She was pretty sure she could find enough to do here to stay out of their way.
God, what if Adrianne stayed for dinner?
What if he walked her to the porch and kissed her goodbye, right in front of the window while Stace watched it happen?
Oh, she couldn’t handle that.
“You sure?” Brock asked, studying her closely.
She made herself smile and nod, and shoo at him with both hands.
Her throat was so constricted she couldn’t have talked if she wanted to.
She could barely keep herself breathing slowly and steadily as he headed back to the living room.
The minute he was gone though, the effort to keep cleaning abandoned her and she dropped everything.
Bending over, she buried her face in her folded arms, leaning against the sink and counter while she told herself to knock it off.
Her eyes had no right stinging like this.
She didn’t need to get all watery in the back of her throat because a man she barely knew already had a girlfriend.
Her divorce wasn’t even six months finalized.
Why would she even be thinking of complicating up her life with another guy right now?
Especially not with a guy who didn’t think twice about stripping her out of her clothes and spanking her while she cried and called him Daddy when she was being naughty.
Was she being naughty right now?
The way she felt inside suggested maybe she was.
For sure, her thoughts when they turned to Adrianne weren’t at all friendly or filled with grace.
Especially now when the sound of Adrianne’s too cheerful laugh at whatever Brock had just said drifted back to the kitchen, making Stace feel sick to her knotted stomach.
Okay, she couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t.
Pushing off the counter, she slipped out the side kitchen archway into the hallway and crept as softly as she could to knock on what she hoped was Pops’s door.
“Come in,” his non-existent voice rasped.
She cracked the door far enough to peek inside. Pops was lying on his back, with Lily lying between his arm and chest, her small hand feeling the shiny photographs in the fishing magazine he seemed to be reading to her. “Hi,” Stace whispered.
“That she-buzzard still here?” the old man grumped.
“They’re talking now,” she replied, offering an apologetic smile.
“Hey, I think I’m going to go home for a little.
You know, to give them privacy.” She gestured with a nod to the living room behind them where Adrianne was laughing again, her voice high and tinkling and annoying as hell.
“I made you a pie. Can you take it out in about twenty minutes or so? I don’t want it to burn. ”
“Hell, I don’t want it to burn either, but don’t I remember Brock saying you were staying here until Monday?”
She nodded, her stomach twisting a little harder.
“I’ll be back. I just... I have a lot of unpacking to do and.
.. you know, cleaning up.” She tapped her fingers on the doorjamb, clearing her throat when he just looked at her.
His mouth was flat, his rheumy eyes knowing.
“I’ll be back,” she repeated, hoping he wouldn’t press because she was terrible at lying.
She didn’t want to have to wrack her brain for a better excuse.
She just didn’t want to be here, not when her emotions were confused like this and Adrianne was here, her very presence and the obnoxiousness of her voice driving home the weirdness of staying with Brock and his father, especially when she had her own place.
“All right,” Pops finally decided, but she could tell by his tone that he was neither convinced nor happy about it.
An intruder all the way, she snuck into his room and gathered Lily out of his arms. The baby fussed, whined and reached back for Pops who caught one tiny hand and smothered it with scratchy white bearded kisses.
“You be good for your mama,” he told her gruffly, and Lily smiled.
To Stace, he then said, “You’ll be back, though? ”
She nodded, her smile so fake she could feel the plastic stiffness in her cheeks. “Before dark,” she promised.
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he warned.
The only part of that Stace paid any attention to was the relief that melted through her the minute she snuck her baby out the back door.
She closed the door softly behind her, for a moment just breathing in the crispness of the icy air.
It leeched the warmth from her cheeks, the chill in the breeze piercing through the weave of the cloth of her clothes, pricking like needles along her arms and back.
She’d left her coat on a hook behind the front door because…
Brock and Adrianne—but it didn’t matter.
She only lived next door and it was just until Adrianne was gone.
Besides, while Brock was trying to take care of her out of polite concern, she really could take care of herself.
She just needed to prove that to him, so he could relax about it.
Snow crunching under her feet, she told herself over and over again, just prove it to him, then everything would be fine.
Back to everyone’s preferential normal. She’d be by herself, learning how to be self-sufficient so no one could ever again confuse her of using another’s money, sweat, or labor to make her life comfortable.
Brock wouldn’t have to watch over her anymore, and Adrianne.
.. Well, she could relax too. Pops would get his companion, Adrianne would get her obviously desired one-on-one attention from Brock, and. .. and everyone would be happy.
Everyone deserved to be happy.
All the way home, she blinked to keep the stinging in her eyes from growing any worse, or more blindingly watery than it already was. She sniffled, hating winter. It always made her nose run.