Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“I’m sorry about my friends.” I helped get Henry situated in his booster seat. He insisted on sitting next to me in the booth.
“Not to worry, love. It’s good you have excellent mates. And I do love to meet fans.”
My attention switched from Henry to Miles, who was gloating.
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “I love Silent Stones,” I conceded. “It might even be my favorite book.” It absolutely was, but I felt like I should leave some room for doubt.
His beautiful aqua eyes danced in the dim lighting. “Why was that so hard for you to admit?”
The complete answer was complicated and would only be shared with someone I knew I could trust. Mr. Wickham, as kind as he seemed, didn’t qualify.
“Um . . .” I picked up a crayon and began coloring with Henry on the children’s menu.
“I didn’t want you to think I was only interested in this position because I was some crazed fan. ” I offered part of the truth.
He chuckled. “I have known many crazed fans, and you don’t qualify. I thank you for that.”
I looked up from my stellar coloring job—my blue bear was going to be a masterpiece. “Are crazy fans a problem for you?” I hadn’t thought about that aspect.
“Back home in London, once in a while a daft fan will get it in her head that she fancies me, and she’ll do something ridiculous like kiss me unexpectedly or hand me her knickers.”
My brows shot up. I bet they weren’t granny panties. “What do you do when that happens?”
“It depends on how good the kiss is and how sexy the knickers are.”
I manifested my disappointment by sighing audibly. Though I should have expected his response.
Miles hung his head. “That was an ill-fated joke, I see.”
I bit my lip, sorry I had jumped to a conclusion. “I’m—”
Henry interrupted by holding up his picture. “Look what I made.”
I was happy for the distraction. I took Henry’s picture and admired how he had scribbled over the forest scene. “You did such a good job.”
Henry beamed with pride.
I ruffled his curly locks.
“Aspen,” the most alluring voice spoke my name.
My eyes lifted, meeting Miles’s.
Miles wore a thoughtful gaze. “I’m not sure what sort of man you are used to, but I promise you, while under my employment you will be respected, and I will make sure no harm comes to you or your daughter from any of my fans.
If it makes you feel any better, hardly anyone recognizes me in America. ” He sounded relieved by that fact.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The smile returned to his face. “I hope this means you will accept my offer.”
“I have some questions first.”
His laughter reverberated between us. “I figured you might.”
Our server showed up before I could ask any.
I had already worked out the pizza situation for Henry before we sat down, so only Miles and I had to order.
Miles ordered a veggie wrap, which didn’t surprise me.
His physique was lean, and the glow of his skin said he took good care of himself.
I, on the other hand, needed some comfort food, so I went with the grownup grilled cheese on homemade sourdough bread and tomato soup.
Henry made sure to get more of my attention by handing me a crayon. “You color.”
I was happy to be bossed around by a three-year-old. I took the yellow crayon and filled in the sun while Henry continued his reign of terror with the black crayon.
“You’re good with him,” Miles commented.
“Are you trying to persuade me?”
“Very much so.” He tapped on the table. “Why don’t you ask your questions.”
My coloring became more like a few strokes here and there while I faced my potential employer. I took a breath and began my interrogation. “Well . . . first off, why were you given custody of . . .?” I pointed to the adorable boy now chugging apple juice from a sippy cup.
“Ah, you read up on me.”
I nodded, unashamed.
“That’s good. We should be honest and upfront with each other considering the amount of time we could be spending together in the very near future. Tell me what you’ve read, and I will tell you the real story.”
I had come across some interesting tabloid type articles about his family and the fight over Henry, so I wasn’t sure what was true or not.
Honestly, some of it was straight out of Shelby’s soap opera life.
Family feuds and vast amounts of wealth.
“I read something about a custody battle and your father, Baron Greaves, intervening.” Miles was part of Britain’s aristocracy, though I couldn’t figure out why he and his father had different last names. “Does that make you Lord Wickham?”
Miles let out a derisive laugh. “Darling, they don’t pass down titles to bastard sons.”
Before I could digest that tidbit, Henry slammed his sippy cup on the table. “Bastard!”
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh.
I pressed my lips together to make sure I didn’t smile or laugh.
“If you haven’t figured it out yet, children are like magnifying mirrors, they reflect the best and the worst of us.
Always the worst at the most inopportune times, though.
” I gave him a sympathetic smile. I had been there more times than I wanted to remember.
Like when Chloe told an old boss of mine at a company picnic that I called him a douche bag.
Thankfully, upper management agreed with me and fired him not long after.
“Henry.” Miles gave him a stern look, ready to reprimand him.
“May I give you some advice?” I interrupted Miles.
“Please, I’ll take any you have.”
“Don’t draw attention to it. If you do, he’s bound to repeat it.”
Miles sank back into the booth, looking worn and at a loss. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you. You must question my sister’s sanity leaving me her child, like the rest of my family.”
“You do seem like an unlikely candidate.” I tried to keep my tone lighthearted to spare his feelings that for some reason I cared about even though I didn’t know him.
Though in my mind we’d had many conversations.
The way Miles’s face dropped told me I’d failed, making me feel awful, so I followed up with, “But a mother’s love is fierce; she must have seen something in you that maybe you don’t even see in yourself. ”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“That’s not really how I roll.” It hadn’t been for a long time.
“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met . . . well, except,” he paused, “never mind. Why don’t we get on with the Q&A before I make another blunder with the lad.”
The lad in question gave me a huge cheesy smile while I contemplated who Miles thought I reminded him of.
“Where were we?” Miles drew my attention back to him. “Ah, yes, my scandalous family.”
“I don’t want to pry.” Maybe I didn’t want to pry, but if I was being honest, I wanted to know what made this man tick and where his beautiful words came from.
Miles waved away my reluctance. “This is well-known fodder and I’m not ashamed.
If you did a little more digging, you would find it anyway.
” He played it off as if he didn’t care, but there was a hitch in his timbre that said, although he had resigned himself, he did care a great deal about it.
He leaned forward. “You see, Sophie, Henry’s mother, was my half-sister.
We didn’t know of each other’s existence until we were young adults.
In fact, my father didn’t know about me until I was almost university age. ”
I tilted my head. “Were you given up for adoption?” That would have explained the different last names. Except he had said bastard son, so then I felt inept for asking such a stupid question. But we didn’t really say things like bastard son in the U.S.
Miles threw his head back and laughed. “That’s not near scandalous enough. No, darling, think more along the lines of an affair and a long-kept secret. Otherwise known as me.”
My eyes popped before I could dial back my reaction.
Miles didn’t seem to mind by the twinkle in his eye. “Intriguing, is it not?”
I dropped the crayon I wasn’t really coloring with anyway, most definitely intrigued. “How do you keep a child a secret?”
The smile he wore so easily faded. “The better question is why?”
I found myself clasping my hands and resting them on the table as I leaned toward him, wanting to know exactly why.
Miles moved in closer, his hands gliding across the overly shellacked wooden table, landing a fingertip away from mine.
My hands retreated a few inches back, while his remained steady as did his eyes fixed on me.
Locked in his gaze, for a moment I felt as if we were playing out my daydreams. Something familiar crackled between us.
In his eyes, I could see he felt it too.
I rubbed my lips together, nervous. His gaze went right through me. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, “Are you going to tell me why?” came falling out of my mouth in whispered tones like I was flirting with him. I wanted to kick myself. This wasn’t one of my daydreams.
He nodded slow and deliberate. “First, though, I will tell you how Henry—” Miles threw his nephew, who was continuing his crayon assault on the coloring page, a thoughtful glance that carried with it a touch of loss “—came into my care. As I previously mentioned, Sophie was not made aware of my existence until we were adults.”
“But you knew about her?”