Chapter 16
Alice
A light breeze blows through the open window above the kitchen sink. Summer is right around the corner, bringing with it the smell of fresh spring flowers in bloom. A nearby neighbor cuts their grass, and Merit barks excitedly in the backyard at a squirrel teasing her from a tall branch.
The orange sun hangs low, though it still won’t set for a few hours. I decided to try my hand at this grill-top thing for dinner. It can’t be that hard. I’ve watched enough videos to get the gist, and with Nellie as my sous chef, I’m confident I can’t fuck it up too bad.
“What first?” she asks, twirling around the tie of her pink apron like it’s a lasso. The cute accessory features a bowl of fruit in the center, and a pink fringe decorates the hem.
“I think we put the vegetables over here.” I tap the left side of the griddle with the spatula.
Nellie carefully flips over the heavy silver bowl filled with an assortment of broccoli, onions, peas, carrots, and red peppers.
“Good. Over here, we add the chicken. I’ll do that. It’s raw, and I don’t want you to get sick.” I toss the diced chicken with oil and seasonings, moving it around to give it room to cook.
Nellie wrinkles her button nose. “Looks slimy.”
“Sometimes food looks a little weird before it’s cooked. I promise it’ll taste good.”
“I don’t know.” Her hesitation elongates the words.
“I’ve been your nanny for almost a month. Have I made anything gross for you yet?”
She shrugs. “I guess not.”
“Trust me, kiddo. You’re going to want seconds. Now I need to wash my hands, so you stay away from the heat until I get back, okay?”
Only once I have her full agreement do I walk inside.
I wash my hands and watch her from the window.
She throws a ball for Merit and practices her dance moves while she waits for the dog to bring the ball back.
She’s so full of life and laughter, I find myself wistful for a simpler time.
Not that my younger years were simple. Living with type 1 meant even the easiest outings had the cloud of diabetes hanging over them.
Before I rush outside, I need to give myself insulin for dinner.
Rice is one of those tricky foods I struggle to get quite right, but I wanted to make something easy for Nellie to prepare.
I’ll take the challenge if it means she gets to succeed.
I set my units to ten in an extended bolus with 60 percent now and 40 percent being delivered later.
I hope that’s enough to deter the later glucose spike. At least until after I get back home.
There’s a stack of plates and silverware I forgot on my first trip out waiting on the counter. Picking them up, I head back outside and deposit them beside my phone on the picnic table.
Nellie skips over upon my return. “What do we do now?”
“Now we put the rice on to toast it. Go ahead.”
Her movements grow more confident the longer she helps. I hand her the soy sauce and she pours on a moderate amount. Dinner might be a tad salty, but she looks proud as she replaces the cap and sets it back on the table.
“Now we mix.”
“Can I try?”
“Of course you can. This is all yours, kiddo. I’m just supervising.”
The promotion to head chef produces a beaming smile.
Her tongue pokes out the side of her lips as she carefully stirs the rice and veggies together. I hold the sides of her waist, not wanting her to fall onto the hot griddle. It might be overkill, but her overprotective dad has me going the extra step to keep her safe.
“Now make a hole in the middle of the whole thing. Yep, like a volcano. Just like that.”
The screen door opens to the house, and I jump, pulling Nellie back into my chest. My heart thunders wildly against my ribs.
“Jesus, Sutton. You scared me.”
He wears his dark reflective shades, hiding his eyes. “What’s going on out here?” His tone is unreadable. It’s always on this side of grumpy and authoritative, but without his eyes, I can’t decipher his mood.
“I’m making dinner. It’s almost ready,” Nellie announces.
Sutton takes an exaggerated sniff. “Smells delicious, Buttercup. You did all that yourself?”
She squints her eyes at him for questioning her skills. “Miss Alice cut up the chicken and put it on the grill, but I did most the rest.”
My breathing returns to normal, and I loosen my grip. “We have to crack in the eggs now. I’ll show you how and you can do the rest.”
Her eyes remain steady on my hands as I show her how to crack an egg and separate the shell without making a mess.
Sutton stays quiet, watching us as she takes her turn.
“Yes! Just like that.” I shake her shoulders in celebration.
“I got some on my hands.” She holds out her hand, glistening with egg white residue.
“Go ahead and wash them. I’ll stir this up, and it’ll be done.”
“I did it? I made dinner?” She turns to her father. “Are you going to eat it?”
His deep chuckle rumbles around my stomach. “Of course I am. I’m starving.”
“Don’t start without me!” Nellie swerves around her dad and into the kitchen, the door slamming behind her.
I finish stirring the chicken into everything else. Sutton reaches around me to kill the heat. Despite being this close to the griddle, his body behind mine turns the temperature up to sweltering.
“You taught my girl how to cook.” His voice rumbles low in my ear.
I swallow against a sticky throat. “We needed something to do. She finished her homework early.”
His chest moves behind my back with a large inhale. Not close enough to touch, but enough that the movement reveals how little the gap is between us. “Smells good,” he murmurs and steps back.
I smother my natural inclination to flirt and rile him up. Something shifted between us since the dance. Maybe he regrets being too open. Too vulnerable. Or maybe he’s just settling into whatever this is and has finally resigned himself to this new normal.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the picnic table pulls my attention away from the fried rice I’m scooping from the griddle. Nellie bursts through the screen door, her apron sticking to her knees.
“I’m back! Let’s eat.” She careens to a stop near the plates, chin tucked into her chest. “I’ll get it, Miss Alice.”
“That’s okay, sweetie—”
“Hello?” She answers with an innocent greeting.
Time simultaneously slows to a crawl and moves at max speed.
Every muscle in my body tenses in deliberation.
Wait it out or make a scene. One that might not be necessary.
One that might protect Nellie from whoever is on that phone call.
Before I can so much as twitch, she sets my phone back down. “Nobody was there.”
Moving normally requires extra effort. I set down our dinner on the table and pick up my phone with shaking hands. Sutton steps beside me, watching me swipe and remove the missed calls.
I shove the device in my back pocket. “Please ask next time, Nellie, okay? It’s probably best you don’t answer someone else’s phone.”
She slides onto her seat. “Sorry, Miss Alice. I was just trying to help.”
I brush it off with a laugh. “I know you were, kiddo. No worries.”
Sutton doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t move for several seconds before he straddles the bench beside his daughter.
“Who was that?” he asks. Those damn shades mask his eyes, but they can’t disguise the unhappiness in his voice.
I stare at them anyway and suck my teeth. “Probably spam or a forgotten bill from Arizona.”
He holds Nellie’s plate so she can portion her dinner. “Why not block it?”
“I probably should. I don’t think I’ve ever blocked any number before.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I answer unknown numbers anyway.”
Sutton turns the serving spoon my way, saving himself for last. “You should block them.”
I dump a healthy scoop on my plate and hand it back. “Is that an official suggestion, Officer Sunny?”
A muscle jumps behind his stubbled jaw. “Of course not.”
If not a safety suggestion, then why does he appear so irritated?
Heat prickles the back of my neck. The sun behind me doesn’t help.
“Are you going to try some chicken?” Nellie interjects, her messy plate indicating just how much she’s been enjoying her meal while Sutton and I are locked in this silent battle.
Sutton scoops a forkful, popping it into his mouth without hesitation. I follow with a much less indulgent scoop. The salty flavor explodes on my tongue, just managing to avoid being obnoxious.
“This is a winner, Buttercup,” Sutton announces, immediately digging in for another bite. “Can you make this every day?”
“You’d get sick if you ate it every day,” Nellie says, though there’s a fresh gleam in her pretty blue eyes.
“Nah, this is healthy shit. That only applies to sugary foods.” Sutton nudges her shoulder with his.
“You really like it?” She puts another forkful in her mouth.
“Definitely a 10 out of 10. I’m adding you to the dinner rotation.”
Nellie squints. “That sounds too much like a chore. I don’t think I want to do that.”
“That’s because it is.”
“Miss Alice,” she whines. “You didn’t tell me that I’d have to start doing a chore!”
My smile is tight. “What’s your favorite food?”
“I don’t know. Spaghetti?”
“How about we learn spaghetti next. Would you like that?”
She rises and picks up her plate. Pieces of rice fall down the front of her apron. “Only if you teach me to make garlic bread too. For real. Not the frozen kind.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
The slamming screen door announces her departure.
“I guess I’m on cleanup. My chef left.” Pushing my palms against the tabletop, I stand and collect my dirty dish.
“That can’t happen again.” Sutton rises too, forcing me to tip my chin back to meet his eyes. Once again, I curse myself for being five-foot-two. Or maybe I should curse him for being six-foot-one and giving me a crick in the neck.
“It wasn’t intentional, but I’m sure it won’t happen again.” I need to gather the rest of the dirty dishes. I make a move to pass, but Sutton stops me by wrapping his fingers around the edge of my plate. His gentle tug keeps me rooted.
“I mean it. I don’t know who was on that phone call. You might not care if she talks to your old landlord or your ex-boyfriend, but I sure as fuck do.”
“Whoa, hey. Take a step back, Sutton.” My tone is sharp. “You aren’t going to talk to me like that.”
“I want to make sure I’m clear.”
I jerk the plate back out of his hands. “You are. Crystal,” I bite out. The griddle rattles when I set the plate down a little too hard. The spatula I used to cook dinner bounces off into the grass. “Shit.”
Feeling Sutton’s gaze on my back only ratchets up my irritation.
I’m acting irrational, but I can’t stop.
His blame, coupled with the apprehension of this asshole that keeps calling me, reaches a boiling point. Sutton’s accusation sent a shiver of unease through me. A warning that I need to get out of here.
I’ve never been good at dealing with my emotions. Anger usually leads to tears, and the last thing I want is to fucking cry in front of Sutton Stone.
“You know what?” I spin around and shove the plate back into his hands. The dish slips and presses into his stomach. “I’m going home. You clean up. I’m your nanny, Sutton. Not your fucking maid.”
His jaw drops, but I don’t stick around to hear his rebuttal.
Once inside, I grab my crossbody, cooler, and my shoes. It’s not until I’m already in my car that I realize I left Bert on the counter.
But I just have to hope Sutton doesn’t kill my cactus, because I can’t go back in there.
Not right now.