Chapter 12
TWELVE
What are you doing, Phillip? Like really. What the hell are you doing?
I know better than this. I know I shouldn’t be here. It’s a total breach of protocol, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about how today was the kids’ first day at their new schools. After the stress of losing their mom, moving into a new home with a brother they hadn’t seen in years, and then the funeral... it just broke my heart.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could try to make it a little easier on them and maybe making a nice dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. My heart wouldn’t stop thundering in my chest the entire time I drove to the house, and when I got here, I wasn’t surprised to find the kids alone.
I know Kellan has to work until five most nights—something I told him is perfectly fine. Cason is almost sixteen. He’s more than capable of keeping an eye on his younger siblings for two hours a day. But I still felt like I needed to do something.
So after work, I went to the store, grabbed a couple of things, and headed here. I fully expected to be turned away, but Braylen answered the door. He was so upset, and it was like he was actually relieved to see me.
After getting him to calm down, he told me about how the kids at his school were mean. Kept asking about where he was from and about his parents. It was probably perfectly normal behavior—just trying to get to know the new student, but Braylen wasn’t ready to talk about his mom.
So then we talked about other things, like if he liked his new teacher. That seemed to make him pretty happy, and then what really shocked me was Raegan. I didn’t think either teenager would come out of their rooms, but she wandered out to get a snack and actually told me that the school has an art club.
She seemed genuinely interested in it but wasn’t sure Kellan would be okay with her walking home by herself two days a week if she stayed after school. Which I’m not really okay with either. I told her maybe we could figure something out.
When Kellan got home, I’d prepared myself for him being extremely angry at me for showing up here, unannounced, after hours. But he also looked so relieved that I knew I couldn’t regret my decision. And then Raegan asked me to stay for dinner, and he answered for me—and my heart just melted into a stupid puddle of goo right then and there.
I’m in so much trouble.
“So it would be Tuesdays and Thursdays.” I come back to the conversation as we all sit at the table and eat the pasta. Even Cason joined us for dinner, though, he hasn’t talked much.
Kellan seems to think that over, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know, Rae. That’s... You walking home after school. It’s going to start getting dark earlier.”
“Well, couldn’t you come pick me up? It would be four-thirty. I mean, you could just leave a little earlier on those days.”
I can sense her anger starting to rise and Kellan’s stress ratcheting up even before he speaks. “It’s a job, Raegan. I have to keep it so I can keep the roof over our head.”
“The roof that leaks onto our heads, you mean,” Cason not so helpfully supplies.
Kellan glares at him, his cheeks heating as he turns to me. “I’m going to get that fixed. A guy I know said he could help me out.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I say calmly and then turn to Raegan. “Maybe I can help out.”
“Really?” Her eyes light up, lined in dark black but so very blue. She looks so young and vulnerable right now with her excitement, and yup, that’s pretty much decided. I can do that too.
“No,” Kellan says, and I worry that I’ve overstepped, but when I look at him, I see he appears concerned, not angry. “We can’t ask you to do that, and besides, don’t you work until five too?”
I shrug. “Not always. Sometimes I work way over, but I can schedule around it for Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Does that mean you’re going to cook for us on those days?” Braylen asks, eyes all alight, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“He’s not our cook,” Kellan says, all pouty and cute. “And I can cook, damn it.”
Everyone kind of laughs at the poor guy then, and all I want to do is give him a reassuring hug. But no touching. I have to stick to some rules. “We’ll figure it out,” I say with a quick wink at Kellan, who offers me the slyest, sexiest smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
After dinner, the kids all clear out, and I’m standing side by side with Kellan at the sink, trying my damnedest not to breathe in the intoxicating scent wafting my way. They should bottle that shit. No joke. All oil and dirt and sweat. Man.
Jesus. I really need to go home and take a cold shower or something. I have never been this gaga over a guy in my life—and believe me, I’ve acted foolish when it’s come to guys before.
But there’s something so different about Kellan—and so familiar. I know I can’t fall for him. That it would be a catastrophe if I did. First of all, pretty sure he’s straight. Never fall for a straight guy. And second of all, he’s a client. Never, ever fall for a client.
“You look tired,” I blurt out because of course, it’s not enough to be smelling him, I’m staring at the gorgeous man too.
His lips turn up in a slight smile as he turns to look at me. “Thanks?”
Great job, Phillip. Be more insulting . “I just mean...” Christ. What do I mean? “Have you been practicing self-care?”
His dark eyebrows quirk, and he’s looking at me like I’m insane. Can’t blame him there. “Self-care? What? Like jerking off?”
“W-what?” I sputter, my eyes going wide, and my cheeks going hot. I let out a quick puff of air. “No! Not... that’s not what I meant.” Is it hot in here? I think it’s really, really hot in here.
He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the topic, and I guess, why should he? He’s a healthy twenty-four-year-old man—of course jerking off isn’t that strange of a topic for him. He’s not flustered and feeling an uncomfortable tightening in his jeans like I am either, I’m sure. I think he was dead serious, asking if that’s what I meant. Has he never heard of self-care before?
“Sorry. I think Tatum got in my head a little.” He just shrugs, looking confused and goes back to washing the dishes. “What did you mean?”
He hands me the dish he just washed, and I rinse it before putting it on the drying rack. “No, I mean I suppose that’s self-care.” I’m blushing. Good lord. I’m twenty-six and blushing over masturbation. “I don’t know, like reading? Going on walks. Bubble baths.”
He snorts at that and hands me the last plate before draining the water in the sink. “Bubble baths?” I rinse the plate and put it up before he dries his hands with a towel and hands it to me.
“Yes,” I say, somewhat defensively. “Men can take bubble baths, you know?”
He grins at me. Yup. My heart cannot take this man smiling at me. Not that I don’t want to see him smile, but it’s too intoxicating. It makes my heart do stupid things. He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed. “I’m sure they can, but I don’t remember the last time I had a bath. Not sure I ever have. All I remember are shitty showers with no hot water and trying to get clean and out as fast as I could.”
My heart pangs for a whole different reason now, feeling the shame coming off him, admitting that to me. I decide not to dwell on it. “Well, you have an amazing, deep clawfoot tub in that bathroom of yours. You should use it.”
He studies me carefully, and I can’t help but squirm a little under his perusal. “Not sure I’m the bubble bath type.”
I can’t help letting my eyes run over his strong, tall body. He’s long and lean but also pretty damn built at the same time. His arm muscles flex where he has them folded over his chest, his t-shirt stretched tight.
Phew. I was right. It is getting super hot in here, and it’s all I can do not to fan myself in front of him like a weirdo. “Baths are relaxing. I totally recommend it. Get you some Himalayan salts and maybe even some bubbles. Run it warm, and just sink into the suds.”
He’s watching me far too closely now, and my cheeks heat. And I know I’ve gone beet red. I wave him off. “Okay fine. What about a date?”
“With you?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me closely, and I nearly collapse onto the floor, so shocked by his question.
I sputter again, nearly swallowing my tongue. “W-what? You’re not... You aren’t.”
“Gay?” he supplies, and I nod my head exuberantly. My head bobbing like crazy.
“That.” Even though if I thought he was gay, I wouldn’t be asking him to date me. Nope. Cannot cross that line. I wouldn’t do that.
He’s still studying me very closely. “Are you? Gay, I mean.” He asks it far too effortlessly, like maybe he’s thought about it, but this is not a road we should go down. And by chance he’s not as straight as I thought, I cannot know that. I just can’t. My brain will stop working completely if he’s actually gay and tells me that.
“Yes,” I say quickly because it’s not something I’ll hide. “But it doesn’t matter. We can’t go out on a date.” I say it firmly, even though it kind of kills me to do it. Not that he was actually asking me that anyway. This conversation really got away from me. “I meant you going out on a date. With someone else. Not with me. Another person. Not that I wouldn’t want to go out with you, but I’m your social worker and...” Keep rambling, Phillip. Jesus. Thankfully, I manage to shut my mouth.
He smiles again and shakes his head at me. He either thinks I’m crazy or adorable, and I’m leaning toward the first one. “Oh.” His grin widens a little, and he shakes his head. “I don’t have time for dates, and I’ve never even been on one when I had time for it.”
“Why not?” I ask, my stupid mouth not working with my brain at all.
He just shrugs his big shoulders at that. “I saw how well dating and shit worked out for my mom. I hookup, or I used to sometimes. Mostly at parties... but when I got sober, I really only had the option of using apps.”
I want to ask him what kind of apps. Find out if these hookups are with lucky women or men, but thankfully, I stop myself. I cannot know if he’s interested in men or women or both. I don’t want to know. “I could watch the kids, if you need to... use an app,” I say coyly.
He gives me a shy smile and pushes off the counter he was leaning against. “You’re doing enough. I think asking you to watch the kids while I get laid is probably really crossing the line.”
I try not to think about him getting laid. What he’s like in bed. If he’s used to hookups and dating, is it usually just quick or does he manage to take his time? “Like we haven’t already done that.”
His smile is devastating. “Maybe I’ll try baths.”
“Oh really?”
He shrugs. “Gotta find ways to take care of myself, right?”
That—should not make me happy—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t.
In fact, Kellan taking care of himself in a way that doesn’t involve other humans on an app—that makes me downright giddy.