CHAPTER 89
maverick
We talked about you at school today,” Aria said, changing the subject for the millionth time. Okay, not the millionth time, but she was so all over the place that it was hard to keep up. But I didn’t mind. It was nice to have a little company as I worked to replace steps in the barn’s staircase.
“Are you and Carson talking shit about me again?” I teased.
I only swore around her because Harley gave me the okay to do so.
His theory was that she’d be exposed to swearing anyway.
If he made it taboo, she’d swear just to push the boundaries.
Instead, he taught her that they were just words.
Some words were good, some were bad. And something about you didn’t need to swear to hurt a person’s feelings. I liked it.
Granted, this girl was more likely to punch someone than try to hurt their feelings with words. And I found that shit funny. Throwing glitter and punching things were her go-to moves.
“No, silly!” She giggled. “He was telling me that you’re going to dress up as Sully from Monsters, Inc. for Halloween this year.”
“Ahh.” I chuckled. “The infamous onesie.”
For Carson’s first Halloween, Roxy wanted to go all out like the rest of her family did.
Except her brothers, who had kids, also had partners, and all did their own thing.
She’d felt weird trying to do something just her and Carson, so I volunteered, which was how I ended up with a stupidly fuzzy Sully onesie.
The thing was actually damn comfortable.
I wore it every year, even if I didn’t match their theme or join them.
I also wore it around the office and left the door open so kids could come in and get candy. Devon always ended up in a Mike Wazowski costume and hung out with me all day. At this point, there was no way I could say I did any of this for Carson.
“Are you wearing it this year?” Aria asked. “I want to see it!”
“Well, I wear it every year. What are you dressing up as?”
“I’m going to be a witch, and Daddy’s going to be my cat,” she said.
“Oh, is he?”
“I told him that he’d be a cute cat!”
Damn straight he’d make a cute cat. Granted, I was biased because I thought he’d make a cute anything. But I kept that comment to myself.
Honestly, they were thoughts I needed to get rid of.
Thinking Harley was cute would get me nowhere.
The slip-up of calling him princess had gone undiscussed between us.
I didn’t know how to explain that it just came out of me naturally.
And if he didn’t want to talk about it, there was no reason that I had to bring it up.
“Buying you a farm was a bad idea,” Harley announced when he found us. “You can’t keep running away, you know that, right?”
“But I am home!” she whined, protesting the idea immediately. I held my laughter because I knew it wouldn’t help Harley, but the girl wasn’t wrong, either.
“I know,” he began, “but you still can’t run out of the house without telling me.”
“What happened to the locks I installed?” I asked as I paused what I was doing to glance at him.
“Go ahead and tell him,” Harley told her.
“You put the locks too low, so I got a stool and unlocked the door,” Aria informed me very matter-of-factly.
“You’re a resourceful little thing, aren’t you?” I muttered.
“You have no idea,” he said under his breath. “All right, come on, little love, we need to go back inside.”
“But I want to hang out with Mr. Fox!” Aria whined immediately.
“Aria, Mr. Fox has work to do.”
“Please?” That lower lip pout of hers was dangerous. It made me feel bad. And how the hell was he so damn resistant to it?
“She can hang out with me if she wants,” I offered before I thought the idea through. From the look on his face, he wasn’t sure. “Seriously, I’m fine with it. I’ll put her to work.”
I had to get better at resisting this girl if I was going to spend more time with her.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” I assured him. “I watch Carson all the time.”
“There’s a difference between introverted and extroverted kids,” he commented. “It’s called audacity.”
“Please, Daddy?” Aria practically begged, and Harley sighed.
“Okay, but you need to listen to Mr. Fox—”
“For the love of God, please stop calling me Mr. Fox,” I interjected. “Just call me Maverick or Mav or hey you… anything that isn’t Mr. Fox.”
“You need to listen to Maverick while you’re out here, okay?” Harley finished. “If he tells you to do something, you do it. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”
“I’ll be the best helper!” she exclaimed happily. This was either a great idea or a terrible one. Only time would tell.
“You sure you don’t mind?” he asked once more, his voice quieter. I could see he was struggling with it, but it made sense. As far as I could tell, the only person he had to rely on was the nanny. He sure as hell didn’t have any family to count on.
“Yeah, I’ve got her,” I reassured him. “I’ll bring her back later.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly, and his conflicted feelings were etched all over his pretty face. I tried offering him a smile, but it only got me so far as he pressed his lips together tightly. “Just let me know if you need any help.”
“I won’t—I mean I won’t need help,” I told him.
“Okay.” It took everything that man had to walk out of the barn. A part of me hoped it was because he was worried about Aria, not because he didn’t trust me with his kid.
The minute he was gone, I was hit with the full force of Aria’s expectant gaze.
“Can I have the drill?”
“Maybe we should start with you just holding these.” I dropped a couple of screws in her little hands. “Don’t lose those on me. The whole door will fall off if you do.”
“The whole door?” she repeated with a loud laugh. “The whole door won’t fall off!”
“The whole damn door!” I said, my voice rising a notch. “It’ll fall right off, and the next thing you know, you’ll have a pack of raccoons living in your barn.”
Her eyes lit up at that last part. Oh, fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Promise?” She barely had the word out before she bolted, darting for the other side of the barn—complete with my screws in hand. I scrambled to hurry after her. Catching her around the waist with one arm, I hauled her off the ground while she laughed hysterically.
I dropped her on her feet in front of the hinge I was replacing. Crouching, I handed over the drill and took the screws from her. She continued to giggle as she pressed the trigger a few times.
“All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” I began as I held up a single screw.
Despite the way she practically vibrated with excitement, she listened close enough to repeat everything back to me. While I wasn’t sure that handing a six-year-old a drill was my smartest idea, Aria did make the best damn assistant I’d ever had. But maybe I was a little biased.