Chapter 1 #2
“That sounds yummy. What kind of ice cream do you like?”
“Butterscotch.” He smiled.
“I’ll have to try that flavor.”
Henry nodded and I stood to find Mr. Wickham gazing thoughtfully at me. He wasn’t helping with the pulse racing thing.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Evelyn wagged her brows before exiting.
“Please have a seat.” I waved to the chairs in front of my desk, trying to maintain my composure.
Mr. Wickham took a seat, but Henry had other ideas; he followed me to mine.
“Henry, come sit next to me,” Mr. Wickham kindly directed.
Henry grinned mischievously while shaking his head no. He held his arms out to me. One look at his big brown eyes with lashes to die for, and I could hardly refuse. “Do you mind?” I asked Mr. Wickham.
“Not at all. My nephew is . . .” he swallowed. “Is a precocious tyke.”
I didn’t think that’s what he was going to say, but no matter. I picked the little guy up along with his bear and set him on my lap and wondered why he had his nephew with him. Bringing a toddler to a bank wasn’t usually a wise choice.
“He’s adorable.”
“He gets that from me.” Mr. Wickham deadpanned.
I started to respond with my normal sarcasm toward the opposite sex, but I stopped myself. “What can I help you with today?”
Mr. Wickham leaned forward as if he were trying to get a better look at me. “I’m going to be in the States for a while and my financial advisor recommended I open an account here to make things easier.”
“We have a few options. Let me get you a brochure and we can go over those and see what best fits your needs.”
Henry didn’t want to be forgotten. “I’m three.” He held up three fingers.
I wanted to kiss those cute fingers but thought that was even more unprofessional than holding him on my lap. “You are a very big boy for three.”
He puffed out his chest.
I reached into the desk drawer for the brochure.
“What brings you to the States?” I tried not to stare at the handsome man.
I couldn’t get over how much he looked like Taron Taylor.
He was even British, which was strange. I had to say, though, that I was relieved he wasn’t my favorite author.
I had promised my girlfriends if I ever met him, I’d try to get to know him.
I’d known the odds were in my favor of that never happening, so I’d agreed to appease them.
They worried I was going to die an old maid.
The odds were highly in favor of that, considering I hadn’t been on a date since my ex-husband left me and our daughter twelve years ago.
“I have some personal and business matters to attend to.” He kept it vague on purpose, given his stiff body language.
It didn’t offend me that he didn’t divulge anything personal. I could relate. I slid a brochure of our different account types across the desk. “Here are—”
“My mummy and daddy are gone,” Henry wailed unexpectedly.
My head shot up and caught Mr. Wickham’s defeated eyes.
He sighed and hung his head. Meanwhile, I tried to comfort poor Henry, who began to cry into my bosom.
I wrapped my arms around him, hoping his parents were on vacation or something, but Mr. Wickham’s demeanor said otherwise, and it broke my heart.
“My sister and her husband were in a car accident,” Mr. Wickham spoke low, refusing to finish the rest. I could guess. “Come here, Henry.” Mr. Wickham stood to retrieve his grieving nephew.
“No!” Henry refused, snuggling further into me.
Mr. Wickham looked at a loss of what to do. “I’m new at this.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind keeping him, if it’s all right with you.”
He sat back down, relieved. “I was only supposed to be the fun uncle.”
“I’m very sorry for your and Henry’s loss.” I stroked Henry’s dark curls.
“Thank you, love.” He suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “Do you mind if we move along? I have several appointments to attend to.”
“Not at all.” I kept one arm around Henry, who was shuddering against me. Poor baby. I used my free hand to point at the brochure. “If you could tell me a bit about your goals and profession, I can make a solid suggestion on the right account for you.”
He rested his hands on his legs and leaned forward. “Would you believe I’m an international bestselling author?”
I gasped.
“Are you all right, love?”
“Yes,” I squeaked. “You wouldn’t happen to use a pen name, would you?”
His left brow raised debonairly. “As a matter of fact, I do. Taron Taylor.”
The bated breath I had been holding came out in a rush. “Oh.”
His lips curled up. “Have you heard of me?”
I nodded and, unfortunately, I could feel my cheeks burn.
“A fan,” he said, ever so pleased. “I love fans.”
“I never said I was a fan,” came rushing out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn’t want to be rude to him. It was a conditioned response to men. A defense mechanism, if you will.
He didn’t believe a word or seem to take offense. “Which book is your favorite?” He flashed me a disarming smile.
It was enough to almost make me blurt out how much I loved Silent Stones, but I stopped myself. “I think our platinum premium account would suit you,” I suggested instead of answering.
He laughed this deep, rich laugh. “Aspen, was it? I like you.”
I tucked my long, brown hair behind my ear. “Um, the account has a competitive APY, no fees, online and mobile banking—” I started to ramble, amusing him more.
“Sounds brilliant.”
“I’ll need your passport, individual tax identification number, and—”
His phone rang, interrupting me. He held up his finger.
“One moment please. I must take this.” He answered and walked out but kept me and his nephew in his line of sight.
He kept smiling at me and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe this was happening.
I had the exact same thoughts, but wondered why he felt that way. And why did he think we had met?
Henry had cried himself to sleep against me.
I stroked his baby-soft brow. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
I had to keep myself from tearing up. When I looked back up, Mr. Wickham or Taylor or whoever he was, was now pacing, running his hands through his gorgeous hair. I mean, his hair. It was just hair.
“What the bloody hell am I going to do now? I don’t have time for this.
” His voice, while raised, was discreet given he wasn’t in private.
I still couldn’t believe he was here, and that I was holding his sweet nephew.
I shifted him on my lap, trying to get more comfortable.
It was amazing how much heavier they felt as they slept.
I missed these days, though Chloe and I did snuggle on the couch when we watched our favorite shows and stuffed our faces with popcorn.
Mr. Wickham paced and paced some more, talking more quietly.
“Stella, I can’t just pick someone off the street.
” He glanced at me and his nephew before abruptly stopping.
His lips curled and his eyes brightened.
“Let me call you back. I think I have an idea.” He hung up without another word and shoved his phone into his pocket.
He walked back in, his lips pressed together, assessing me even more than he had previously.
“Ms. Parker, do you like your job here?”
“Um . . .” That was an unexpected and uncomfortable question given the morning I’d had.
“Hesitation,” he said, pleased. He shut the office door and leaned against it.
I couldn’t help but stare at him. The picture on his book cover didn’t do him justice.
Which was ridiculous. Because my second thought was that this was inappropriate.
Closed doors had become something of a taboo.
You’d be surprised at some of the salacious stories that had circulated around the bank.
I bit my lip. “Mr. Wickham—”
He pushed off the door. “Please call me Miles.” He took his seat back, grinning between me and his nephew, who, by the tender look he gave him, he was obviously fond of. “You see, Aspen, I’m in a bit of a bind. I came here because of my sister’s last wishes and to work on my novel.”
I wanted to say it was about time—I needed that book—but instead I attentively listened.
“She loved Carrington Cove,” he said wistfully.
“I grew up there. It’s a beautiful place.” My parents still lived there. Chloe and I lived in Edenvale because it was cheaper and closer to work.
He clapped his hands together. “Splendid. I think a bit of kismet is at play here.”
“I’m not following you.”
He gave me a charming grin. “I’m in need of someone who can be both a nanny to my nephew and a personal assistant to me.”
I laughed, startling Henry, who I quickly soothed back to sleep. “You’re kidding, right?” I looked around for a recording device. “Did my new boss put you up to this?”
“I assure you, I’m not having a laugh at your expense. I’m in earnest, and somewhat desperate.”
I blinked an inordinate amount of times. “No. No. I’m not a nanny.” And I certainly couldn’t be his personal assistant.
He stared down at his sleeping nephew. “You seem to have a magic touch when it comes to wee ones.”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that, but I have a daughter.”
“How old?” he asked.
“Twelve.”
His brows raised. I knew what he was thinking. You look too young to have a child that age. He was right, but I would never regret it even if it meant having the most worthless ex-husband in existence. Chloe was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
He cleared his throat. “Excellent,” he stammered as if he was unsure what to say to that. “You have plenty of experience then. Exactly what Henry and I need.”
“Listen, Miles, you don’t know me. I have a degree in business management, not child development.”
“I would do a background check on you, of course. And I need a savvy business mind.”
“I don’t think I’m the right person. Maybe I could ask around for you.” I looked down at sweet Henry and my mother’s heart wanted nothing more than to see that he had the right person to take care of him.
Miles slapped his hand on the desk. “Whatever you are making here, I’ll double it.”
My head popped up. Our eyes locked.
“What do you say now, Ms. Parker?”
Oh. Wow. I leaned back, stunned. “Can I think about it?”