Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
MIA
“Ithought I smelled coffee,” Willow says, lifting her arms above her head to stretch.
Her tank top creeps up her torso and she doesn’t bother to fix it as she slides into the seat next to my dad at the counter.
Willow pins her gaze on me, tilting her head to the side. “Where are you going this early?”
My father lifts his gaze from his laptop, eyes also gluing to my face as I duck my head, pouring myself and Willow a cup of coffee. I glance at him and then at Willow as I stir in the creamer.
“I’m going to go watch Caleb’s daughter while he’s at practice."
My father doesn’t say anything and Willow raises an eyebrow. “Caleb. He’s the hot, older one, right? You said he plays middle or something.”
My father snorts. “Center,” he corrects her, his voice low as he shakes his head. “How did this come about?”
I explain the situation to both of them, telling them what happened last night and how I ended up watching Tella. “His old nanny retired, so he needs someone to help watch his daughter until he finds a permanent one.”
“You’re not coming to Sugar Hill with me then, are you?”
I swallow roughly, shaking my head at her. “I don’t think so.”
“What happened to getting a job?” my father interjects.
“Technically, it is a job.”
“She doesn’t want to work in marketing, Dean,” Willow adds at the same exact moment, the words flowing from her mouth before she realizes what she’s saying. Her eyes flash to mine, widening as she holds her breath. “Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as she blows out a breath.
My father’s eyebrows tug together. “What?”
My stomach plummets. I planned on having this conversation with him at some point . . . just not right now.
“Um, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that,” I admit, shifting my weight and ignoring my coffee that’s cooling on the counter in front of me.
“I’m not sure marketing is what I want to do, but I’m thinking about exploring some other career opportunities that would hire me with a marketing degree. ”
He stares at me for a moment, gaze fixed and unwavering.
He abruptly stands up, moving away from his seat as he closes his laptop.
“You’re an adult, Mia. You can make your own decisions.
” He pauses, sighing deeply. “This is news and a little unexpected. I’m not mad.
I support whatever you ultimately decide to do, although I do think it’s important to find a good paying job. ”
I swallow hard over the lump lodged in my throat. “I know.”
“Caleb Ford has had a rough go at things, after losing his wife and juggling his career and daughter.” My father takes another sip of his coffee before he walks over to the sink and dumps it out.
“I’m sure your help is greatly needed. I just don’t want you to throw away a degree you worked so hard for to be someone’s babysitter. ”
“It’s just a temporary thing.”
My father purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. “Okay. I have to head out, so I’m sure I will see you later.” He glances at Willow quickly before looking back at me. “Love you. Bye, Willow.”
Willow bats her eyelashes at him, even though he’s turning in the opposite direction, heading toward the door that leads into the garage. “Bye, Mr Landry,” she calls out, her tone changing as she says his name.
I stare at her, raising my eyebrows. “Willow.”
“Sorry,” she giggles, shaking her head. “My boredom is getting to me.”
My eyebrows relax, dropping lower as I narrow my eyes. “I swear to God, if you make a move on my dad, I might go jump off the nearest, tallest building.”
Willow waves her hand at me, lifting her mug with her other hand to take a sip. She hides her smirk behind the ceramic cup. “You’re dramatic,” she rolls her eyes, setting her coffee back down. “Daddy Dean looks good in those glasses, but he’s unfortunately not my type at all.”
My eyes widen, again. “Daddy Dean? What the hell is this?”
Willow breaks out into laughter, her head falling backward, then turns to smile at me. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” She pushes her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder before placing her hand on her chest. “You’re so easy to get a rise out of.”
“I’m going to be late,” I mutter, letting out a sigh as I shake my head at my best friend. I know she’s joking, but I also know her taste in men. I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t even want to think about this.”
“So, don’t,” Willow says with a shrug. “I promise I will never do that. You know who I still think about?” She pauses and immediately waves it off. “Nevermind, it doesn’t even matter.”
I cock my head to the side. “No, who?”
Willow climbs off the stool and walks over to me. Her hands find my shoulders and she spins me around. “It’s not important. You’d better go before you’re late.” She gives me a gentle push. “Have a good first day, honey.”
I look at her over my shoulder. “I’m not your child.”
“Not yet!” She smirks and winks before her laughter fills the space again. I let out another exasperated sigh, turning away from her as I head out to my car. Willow Alder is my very best friend and a goddamn menace.
I double check the address on my dash as I pull up along the curb in front of a big white house with black trim and white pillars. I don’t know what I was expecting his house to look like, but I didn’t think he’d need one this big for just him and his daughter.
I shift my car into park, kill the engine, and grab my bag from the front seat before getting out.
The cool breeze drifts past, pushing a few stray hairs in front of my face as I step onto the sidewalk.
The lawn is perfectly manicured and there are a few different potted plants on the porch, along with two wooden rocking chairs.
Just as I reach the front door, it’s yanked open, revealing Caleb standing on the other side. My eyes meet his, noticing the black-rimmed glasses sitting on his face. His gray eyes almost look like molten steel.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice gruff as he reaches up to scratch at the stubble along his chiseled jaw line.
“I’m not used to seeing you with glasses,” I blurt out, feeling heat creep up my neck. “I’m sorry, that was rude. What I meant to say was good morning.”
Can I be any more embarrassing?
Caleb chuckles, then in a low voice, he says, “I normally wear contacts and honestly rarely wear these unless I absolutely need to.” He lifts his hand higher, the bottom hem of his sweatshirt lifting as he runs his hand through his wavy locks.
“I have to go pick up my new ones on my way to practice.”
My head bobs and I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder. “They look good.”
“Thanks,” he says after a beat passes between us. “Please, come in,” he offers after clearing his throat. He steps out of the way, holding the massive black door open for me. I step into his space, and am struck by how clean and pristine the foyer is as I kick off my shoes.
“I woke T up about an hour ago, but she isn’t exactly a morning person,” he explains as he steps deeper into the house.
I follow after him, my eyes scanning the walls in the foyer as we head to the kitchen.
There are professional photos of Estella and Caleb hanging on display.
“She wanted to play with her dolls before eating breakfast.”
A chill seeps through my socks from the wood floor as we step into the open concept kitchen. I stop by the island in the center, my hands caressing the edge of the marble countertop as Caleb walks over to the stove. “I used to hate mornings.”
“No?” Caleb questions me, turning around with an eyebrow raised as he sets a plate of pancakes in the center of the island. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
His comment catches me off guard. My head tilts to the side. “Why’s that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says in a rush, his tone dismissive as he shrugs his shoulders. “You just have a morning personality.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I don’t question him on it any further. The way he ducks his head and skirts around the kitchen makes his discomfort noticeable.
Caleb and I aren’t strangers. We’ve spoken numerous times and have been around each other enough to know one another, but an assessment like that feels a little deeper than all the short lived conversations we’ve had.
“I made breakfast, so please feel free to help yourself,” Caleb offers, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
“There are also snacks in the pantry and food in the fridge. Just make yourself at home.” He pauses, the corners of his lips twitching.
“I wrote down what Tella’s day typically looks like, although I should be home in a few hours. ”
He grabs a notepad from the side of the fridge and walks over, handing it to me. My fingers accidentally brush his as I grab the pad of paper. My breath catches in my throat, and his hand lingers for a passing second before he removes it.
Heat creeps up my neck once more and I immediately distract myself by looking at the helpful list he’s created. He has everything listed on three sheets of paper, covering any question I might possibly have about taking care of Tella.
“Come on,” he says softly from the kitchen door. He motions for me to follow him. “I’ll show you around, then I need to head out.”
Caleb gives me the official tour of his massive home and by the time we head up the stairs to the second floor, I’m fairly certain I could get lost here. As we head down the hallway, he points out the bathroom at the end before we reach Tella’s room.
The door is ajar, but he still lightly knocks on the door instead of pushing it open. “Hey, T,” Caleb says as he pokes his head through the gap. “Are you ready to come eat breakfast? Miss Mia is here.”
There’s commotion in her room, the sound of toys hitting the floor before Caleb steps out of the way. Tella comes barreling through the door, coming to a halt in front of me. Her hair is pulled back in a messy braid and her jammies are pink with white polka dots.