10. Kaitlyn
10
KAITLYN
E ither I was wearing the poor child out or Harper was going through a major growth spurt—or possibly both—because she was ready for bed by six. She managed to stay awake for one book but actually turned over and dozed off before I could even ask her about another. I knew I was pushing her, encouraging her to move outside her comfort zone, and she was slowly starting to blossom. The side effect of the combination of stress and excitement was a very sleepy little student at the end of each day.
I was doing my own share of stretching and growing as I rewrote Harper’s plans on the fly. The work was rewarding, and even though I was a subject matter expert I was still learning new things every day. I was loving every bit of my job.
Well, except for the grumpy-gus in charge.
I hadn’t seen him since he stormed off earlier that afternoon, and there’d been no mention of his after-work plans, so I padded down toward the kitchen barefoot in shorts and a tank top to grab dinner before Bernardo left for the day.
“Kaitlyn.”
I jumped and whirled around to find James staring at me from his office doorway, like he’d heard my bare feet from down the hall.
“Yes?” I kept my tone cool.
“Do you have a minute?”
Normally I didn’t watch the clock, but given how he’d been so dismissive of me a few hours prior I considered telling him that I was off duty. But…he looked tired. Stressed. Sleeves rolled up and hair slightly messy as if the day had put him through the wringer.
I reminded myself that even if he was used to it, a visit from CPS questioning his parenting had to be stressful. Not to mention the other demands on him. In spite of myself, I softened.
“I do.”
He walked down the hall toward me. I braced myself, unsure what to expect. Would he be the same cold, dismissive man he’d been earlier, or would I see a different side of him? With James, there was no way to tell.
“Listen, in case you haven’t figured it out. I’m just not…the best at accepting sympathy. Even when I really do appreciate it. But I shouldn’t have brushed you off.”
I wobbled a little at the sincerity in his eyes—all the more because I actually understood where he was coming from. Given my background and training, I was much more comfortable being the shoulder people cried on instead of turning to anyone else for comfort or support. If someone had reached out to me when I was having a low moment and trying to hide it, would I have reacted any better than James? I couldn’t be sure.
“Um…thanks. I appreciate you telling me.”
It felt like a momentous exchange—like we were actually connecting as people, not just as mutual caregivers for Harper. This moment was just about us.
His face shifted and the hint of a smile played around his mouth. “Have you eaten?”
“No, I was actually heading down to grab something now,” I said.
I worried that he was going to pull me into his office for an impromptu strategy session. I was always game to work on Harper’s plans, but the truth was I was starving . My stomach rumbled at the thought of food.
“Let me take you to dinner then. My favorite spot. Vida can keep an eye on Harper. And we’ll stay close in case she wakes up.”
Dinner with James? I tried to play off my shock.
“That would be great but…” I gestured to my grubby tank top and shorts and tried to figure out what I could change into that would be worthy of his favorite restaurant. Did I even own anything dressy enough to qualify? “I’ll need to clean up.”
“Not necessary, you look fine just the way you are.”
I gaped at him. “I am not going out wearing this. Give me ten minutes.”
He grinned. “Fine, but seriously, this place isn’t fancy. Just wear something comfortable.”
“Meet you out front,” I said as I jogged toward the stairs.
Comfortable . I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and a quick scan of the clothes I’d brought didn’t reveal anything fancy, so I opted for a simple yellow sundress. I eyed my platform espadrilles, but something told me to go for flipflops instead. After brushing out my hair and doing the most basic of makeup applications, I headed out to meet him.
I walked out to an empty driveway. Where was his personal chauffer Armand? I’d never seen James drive himself anywhere; he was always sliding in the back of a black Mercedes Maybach. I wasn’t sure if he even knew how to drive.
A few seconds later, I heard the roar of an engine and a sleek white convertible two-seater came to a screeching stop in front of me.
“You look perfect. Hop in.”
I blushed at his compliment. But was it a compliment, or was he merely saying that I looked appropriate for wherever we were going?
“Does that thing have seatbelts?”
“Originally, this baby only had lap belts, but I had it retrofitted for safety.” He patted the steering wheel. “1967 Jag.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, still eyeing it from the safety of the front steps.
“I thought you were hungry, why aren’t you getting in? Is it my driving?” He revved the engine a few times.
“Maybe.”
He laughed. “I promise I’ll take it easy on you. Let’s go.”
I climbed into the thing reluctantly, buckled the seatbelt, and gripped the handle on the door.
“Off we go.”
James hit the gas and started flying down the long driveway, and the wind rushed around us, causing my light sundress to fly up, exposing my pink panties. I saw his head whip toward me then away just as quickly as I tucked the hem beneath my thighs.
Within a few minutes we were in an unimpressive part of Model City. I craned my neck as we passed row after row of strip malls, looking for an unexpected five-star restaurant among the chains. James finally pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned Kmart.
“Umm…” I said, glancing around.
“Over there.”
He pointed to the back corner of the lot where a makeshift fiesta had sprung up with half a dozen food trucks, picnic tables, and lights strung between them.
“ This is your favorite spot?” I asked, not even bothering to hide my shock.
He laughed at me as he pulled into a parking spot. “Abuela’s Tacos. None better. Trust me, I’ve traveled the world and I keep coming back to these.”
I was charmed that he didn’t turn up his nose at such a casual spot. The place had a pulse, with salsa music pumping from the speakers and people eating and laughing. It was exactly where I wanted to be.
After we ordered, he pointed to a picnic table where people were cleaning up to leave.
“Go grab that one and I’ll bring the food over when it’s ready.”
Once settled, I watched him interact with the people who were also waiting. An older woman started chatting with him and he engaged with her easily, like he was just an ordinary guy out for the evening. Little did she know that he was one of Miami’s major power players, and he could’ve flown us to Mexico for tacos if he so desired. I hadn’t realized exactly how wealthy he was—not when we’d first met and I’d slept with him and not even once I’d started working for him. I intentionally didn’t research him much because I hadn’t wanted my opinion to cloud my decisions when it came to working with Harper. It was only once my sister pointed it out that I’d done more digging online.
Most of the gossip highlighted the number of different A-list women he’d been seen with, his absolute dislike of giving interviews, and there were references to his expectations of perfection when it came to his clubs, which didn’t surprise me. I’d only been in Bloom that one time but from what I’d been able to see of it, it was impressive.
None of that matched the person I was watching now. This place was far from perfect. Yet James didn’t look down on it or the people patronizing it, either, chatting with them as comfortably and naturally as if they were old friends.
I liked this side of him and would love to see more of it. He seemed…real. Although if you looked closely at him, you’d notice that his oversized watch probably cost as much as a car, and his jeans and dress shirt were cut to fit him by his private tailor. But on the surface, he was just a guy enjoying dinner in a parking lot.
I averted my eyes as he headed for me, loaded down with food and beer. I didn’t want to be caught staring, which was exactly what I’d been doing.
Because he was so freaking hot, and it killed me that I had to pretend like he wasn’t.
“You’re in for a treat,” he said, placing the various bags on the table and sliding in across from me.
He was right. In fact, once we started eating, all conversation stopped as we stuffed ourselves. Half an hour later we were full and happy.
“Oh my God,” I moaned, clutching my stomach. “That was amazing. I’m stuffed!”
“Same,” he laughed. “But it was worth it. Want to head down to the beach and walk it off? It’s a quick drive.”
“Love to,” I said, standing up slowly and trying not to think about the fact that this felt exactly like a date.
It was golden hour on the beach, and the sun threw a perfect pinkish light on James. The man didn’t have a bad angle.
“Beautiful night,” he said.
“It is. Thanks again for dinner.”
“Happy to introduce you to Abuela’s. From now on you’ll compare every taco to the ones you ate tonight. Even Bernardo’s but don’t ever tell him I said that.”
I laughed and we fell silent again. If this really had been a date, I’d be trying to make conversation—working hard to sound charming and fun. But I didn’t need those pretenses with James. I felt relaxed and at ease, despite being very aware of how close he was standing. The two beers I’d had over dinner plus the romantic setting were starting to get to me. And it didn’t help that I could feel James sneaking glances at me, too.
“I told you the dress would be perfect,” he said.
“You were right, as always,” I joked. “I know that’s important to you.”
“Am I that bad?” He glanced at me in chagrin.
I shrugged. “A little. Sometimes. But that’s who you are. You’re James Morris, businessman extraordinaire.”
“Well, for now it’s nice being James Morris, taco enthusiast.” He paused and glanced at me. “This is fun.”
“Yeah, I’m having a good time.” My heart sped up.
The distance between us closed a little as we walked, partly because of me and partly because of him. Anyone watching us would assume we were on a date. As the sun went down, I had to fight the urge to reach for his hand.
“Shit,” James growled. “They found us.”
I stopped and looked around. “What? Who found us?”
“Keep walking, please,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s the paparazzi, over there behind the dune. Must’ve seen my car. I thought I’d parked far enough back.”
I sneaked a glance and saw two men with incredibly long lenses stealing shots of us.
“Does this happen a lot?” I asked.
He frowned. “More often than I’d like, that’s for sure.”
It was like all of the good vibes we’d been building drained away in an instant.
“What should we do?”
I glanced over at him and noticed that he’d put more distance between us. I understood, but it made me a little sad. For him, that he had to live parts of his life under such scrutiny, and for us, that we couldn’t explore what was happening.
I wanted to smack myself. No. Nothing was happening between us. We were an employee and her boss going for dinner after a long day. I couldn’t allow anything else to simmer, despite the way he made me feel every time he looked at me.
James sighed. “We should head back home, I guess. They won’t stop, trust me.”
“We’re going to pass right by them on the way to the car. What should I do?” I crossed my arms self-consciously at the thought of them capturing my every move.
“Do you have sunglasses with you?”
I glanced over at the setting sun, imagining how ridiculous I’d look in sunglasses. But after a lifetime of dealing with the paparazzi, James obviously knew what he was doing.
“I do.” I dug them out of my bag and slipped them on.
“Just don’t look at them as we get closer, keep your head down,” he barked.
His relaxed tone was gone and he was back to the guarded, closed-off voice he’d used on me earlier in the day.
We walked back to his car in silence, me a few steps behind him like the employee I was.
But deep down, as much as I fought against it, I knew something had shifted between us tonight. I just wasn’t sure what—or whether it was a good thing or not.