14. Berg
Chapter fourteen
Berg
I yawn over the rim of my afternoon cup of coffee, sitting in the bed of my truck with Dean as he munches happily on a sub sandwich that smells like spicy mustard and salami. My stomach growls, so I take another sip, hoping the caffeine will keep me going. On top of being hungry, I’m on edge. Leaving Carolina to do all the jobs I normally do is a bizarre feeling. I trust her, but it will take time to turn off the part of my brain that is used to being chronically on. Checking my phone, I smile when I see a picture in my inbox from Caro. The girls are holding onto the tips of their braids, pulling them straight out from their heads like they’ve been electrocuted. I immediately save the photo and send it to my sister. She’s always complaining that she doesn’t get enough photos of her nieces. She’s ten years older than me, and her twin sons are grown.
“You know how to braid hair?”
“Do you mind?” I tilt my screen away from Dean’s line of sight. “No, I don’t,” I mumble.
He crumples the foil from his sandwich. “It’s not that hard.”
“You know how? Why?”
The idea that Dean, the bachelor who lives on a boat, could braid my kids' hair, and I can’t, irritates me. If the girls like having their hair done, why haven’t I made it a priority to learn?
“Used to practise on rope when I was learning boating knots as a kid.”
I nod, remembering an August day last summer when Dean took us out on his boat. The girls had jumped right into the bay when they got hot and squealed in horror the second their toes touched the icy water. They’d doggy paddled back to the boat as fast as they could where Dean and I hauled them back aboard, laughing as they shivered.
I stick my phone back in my pocket and turn to Dean. “We gotta take the girls out again this summer.”
“On the boat?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about last year when–”
Dean interrupts me. “Who the hell is that?” He straightens up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Huh?” I scan the job site, seeing only the usual people milling about.
And then I spot her. Caro’s wearing tight jeans and a plain black t-shirt that scoops low across her chest, her curls loose and spilling over her shoulders. She’s got a red plaid button up over her shirt that makes her hair seem even brighter. And slung over one arm is my lunch kit which looks comically large on her shoulder. The lunch kit I was reaching for on the table behind her this morning. She hasn’t seen me, but I know if Dean has noticed her, that about eleven other men will have as well. And the idea of their eyes gliding all over her has me jumping off the tailgate and banging down my coffee mug with a thud.
“Shooting your shot, MacMillan? Atta boy,” Dean says, like he’s surprised.
“Pipe down. That’s Chris’s little sister,”
“Doesn’t look that little.”
I shoot him a look. “Really?”
“What?”
“I’m a girl dad, Dean. Don’t be a creep. And worry about your own love life.”
He holds up a hand in innocence. “I’ll go find Chris.”
“No!” I say with too much force, reaching out to grab Dean’s arm as he stands.
I clear my throat and try to sound casual, even though I’m feeling anything but. Having Caro nanny for me shouldn’t be a secret, but I’ll ask her if she wants to tell him herself.
“She’s got my lunch. I must have left it on the porch or something.”
Dean clicks his tongue, then chuckles. “She did the braids, eh?”
“Maybe,” I reply, my eyes still trained on her.
A smile stretches across his face. “Very interesting. ”
“Not really. Stay here.”
I leave him behind, making my way through the job site to intercept Caro before she wanders much further without safety gear. Isaac will have a fit if he sees her walking through here without a hard hat. And Chris, I think, would be even more weirded out at the sight of his younger sister hand delivering me my lunch kit. He’ll only need to take one look at me to know that I’ve seen her naked. Heat floods my cheeks at the memory of our goodbye this morning. Or that I took full advantage of the proximity of her lips this morning and kissed her.
I’ve got to get her out of here.
“Oh! I found you,” Caro smiles, taking longer strides to reach me.
I tense as she approaches a tangle of cords. “Watch…” she steps smoothly over an orange extension cord, “your step.”
I take the bag from her, accidentally brushing my knuckles against hers. She fidgets with the buttons on her flannel.
“You can’t come on the site without PPE,” I tell her, figuring that’s the best way to get her back into her car.
“That’s okay. I’m not really planning to stick around. Just wanted to bring you that.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, steering her around by her shoulder. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”
“Berg,” she says my name with a laugh. “You don’t need to escort me off the premises.”
“I’m not.”
I peer over my shoulder for any sight of Chris .
“Really? Cause that’s sort of exactly what it seems like. Is this a no girls allowed worksite?”
“Of course not,” I splutter. “We have women that work with us. Lynn. Lynn does a lot of our electrical work.”
“I believe you, Berg. I’m only joking around. Is my brother here?” She leans to see around me. “I should at least say hello.”
Absolutely not.
“Oh, he’s around somewhere. Busy, though.”
“Alright.” Her eyes narrow with scepticism.
“Drop off go okay?”
I know it did, before the braid photo she sent a quick message letting me know that they’d had no issues getting to school on time.
“Yep, smooth like butter.”
“Good, good.”
I can’t stop looking at her lips. I need to get it together. Crushing on the nanny? I’m a suburban, middle-aged cliché.
“Hi, Dean. Dean Whitaker.”
I glare at my friend’s outstretched hand and the grin that’s a little too roguish for my liking.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay over there?”
Caro shakes Dean’s hand.
“Nice to meet you. But, apparently I need to get out of here because I’m violating about eleven rules by not having a hard hat.”
“Oh, Berg totally has an extra in the back of his–”
I smack his stupidly lean stomach .
I’ll kill him. The man lives on a boat, after all. I’m sure drownings aren’t that suspicious.
I throw my hands up in the air. “Yeah, too bad it won’t fit her.”
They’re adjustable, but I’m banking on her not knowing that.
Caro glances between us, lips curling with bemusement at our antics.
“Okay, well, enjoy your Dunkaroos, big guy.”
She pats my shoulder platonically. I’d rather kiss her goodbye again.
I shake my head. “I didn’t pack Dunkaroos.”
Caro grins, wiggling her shoulders in a little dance. “I did!”
She looks pleased with herself as she climbs into her car and closes the door.
I bend at the waist, resting my hand on the roof, and raise my voice so she can hear me through the glass. “Don’t you know a man's lunch box is private?”
I lift my hand as she pulls away, but not before I see her toss her head back with a laugh. Caro might not seem that phased by this morning, but I am. Kissing her was careless. Here I am worried about Chris, when I should focus on the fact my daughters saw me embracing their new nanny. What sort of message is that sending to them? I’m Caro’s boss, her landlord, and I’m fifteen years older than her.
“Enjoy your Dunkaroos, big guy,” Dean mocks in a girlish voice, clapping a hand over my shoulder .
I shrug him off. “Quit it.”
He only laughs, adjusting his voice to the highest octave he can manage. “Oh, Berg, I wish I could dunk my cookie in your cream.”
“Stop it,” I hiss through clenched teeth as I see Chris come through the front door of his future home.
“If only you weren’t my big brother’s best fr–”
I have Dean under my arm in a headlock a second later, knocking off his hardhat while his laughter booms across the work site. The gravel under his boots slides around as he struggles to break free.
“Knock it off, dipshits!” Isaac shakes his head at us as he climbs out of his truck.
I let Dean go but he gives me a hip check that nearly sends me sprawling.
We break apart, straightening our clothes.
“What are you two idiots fighting about?”
“Nothing.” I shrug.
“Dunkaroos,” Dean says at the same time.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I could get used to having someone sneaking treats into my lunch. And moreso, having someone to kiss goodbye in the morning.