Chapter 4 #2
It’s possible he has put his foot down and changed his mind about letting me be his nanny.
I couldn’t entirely fault him. A full night’s sleep can do wonders for clarity, and hiring the woman you arrested that afternoon is a little bit crazy.
Even if the reason for the arrest is a glorified misunderstanding.
It’s not like I committed a felony. Though I can’t say the same for those I share blood with, I like to think I’m still a good person.
I swing open the storm door just as Francine waves goodbye.
“I’ll stop by again once you’re more settled.”
“It was nice meeting you!” I call after her with a wave. I turn to Sutton, who’s watching the exchange with dipped brows and a frown on his lips. “Would you like to come in?”
He nods and catches the edge of the screen door in his large hand.
I note the absence of any sharp barbs. Of any words at all. Interesting, considering he had plenty to say yesterday.
His footsteps trail me inside, followed by the slam of the screen door.
“I’m going to have to get that pneumatic thingy replaced if it keeps banging like that.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
I continue unruffled. “Table or couch?” The question sounds more suggestive than I intended.
He plants his feet and crosses his arms over his broad chest, a pillar of unmovable force blocking my exit. “I’ll stand.”
“Fine by me. Make yourself at home,” I say as I retrieve the pan I placed into the refrigerator.
The weight of Sutton’s stare follows me across the room.
My search for silverware is brief. I locate a fork in the third drawer I yank open.
The pan clatters against the table, and I slide into one of the unoccupied chairs. “Want some?”
“No.”
I shrug and sink my fork into the middle, cutting the perimeter of a two-inch square. “So how can I help you, Officer?”
“It’s not Officer today.”
I peruse him slowly. The worn denim clings to his muscular thighs in all the right places, riding low on his trim hips. The navy cotton tee stretched across his wide chest looks soft.
“I can see that.” I pop a forkful of brownie into my mouth. My eyes widen, and an unhindered moan falls out. “Oh my god, you have to try this.”
“I’m not here for games, Ms. Thompson. I’m here to talk about your position.”
Back to Ms. Thompson? Sutton certainly spent time reinforcing those ironclad walls.
I lick a bead of chocolate frosting from the corner of my mouth. Sutton’s eyes flick surreptitiously, but not quick enough that I don’t catch the glance.
“If you’re here to fire me, just get on with it so I can find another position.”
“I’m not here to fire you.”
“Then what is it that you couldn’t say yesterday?”
“I like information. I need…” He scratches the side of his cheek and rolls his neck. “I just need more from you than I got yesterday.”
Sitting straighter in the wooden chair, I lower my fork back into the pan and dust the crumbs from my fingertips over the table. “Okay, what do you need to know? You can ask me anything.”
He blows out a breath. “For one, that’s the most serious you’ve sounded since I met you.”
“I know I can be a giant goof, but I promise you, Sutton, when it comes to your daughter, I’m as serious and safe as someone can be.”
“Good. That’s good.” His shoulders relax a fraction.
“I didn’t get around to it yet,” I emphasize, “but I had a list of questions ready to ask you too. I’m taking this seriously.”
“Like what?”
“Like does your daughter have any allergies I should be aware of?”
“Nope. What do you do if you find one I wasn’t aware of?”
“That depends. Is she just rashy or anaphylactic?”
I swear his face blanches. “You call me, and you call 911.”
“You aren’t very good with hypotheticals.”
“Not when it’s about my daughter,” he replies curtly.
“You can leave me a list of all the important phone numbers.”
“I planned on it.”
“Does she take any medications I should know about?”
“No.”
“Does your dog?”
He blinks as if he didn’t consider I’d also be caring for his dog.
“No.”
“Anything else you want to get out of the way before Monday?”
“What happens if you have a problem with your blood sugar?”
How does he know about that?
It hits me a moment later. The flippant remark I made about my insulin pump while he was giving me the ole pat down on the side of the dusty highway.
“That’s not going to be a problem.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can when I’ve been dealing with it since I was seven.”
“I’ve come upon more than one diabetic in bad shape who forgot to take their insulin or had to ration it. Accidents happen.”
“Sure, they do. I’m as likely to have an emergency as anybody else. Do you ask any babysitters over the age of fifty-five if their blood pressure is well controlled and their likelihood of having a stroke?”
Sutton digs his front teeth into his lower lip. “Course not,” he grinds out.
This is more than hostility flying between two people who started off on the wrong foot. His rigid posture is a dead giveaway for a protective dad not used to giving up control to someone outside his circle. I almost feel bad for him that his family pressured him into this.
Almost.
Luckily for him, I’m the exact opposite. I can go with the flow, even if that flow is a whitewater rapid threatening to drown me.
“Let me see your phone.” I dig mine out and set it on the table in front of me.
“What for?” His eyes never leave mine as he deliberately drags his out of his back pocket.
“I’m giving you some peace of mind.”
He moves beside me and sets the device next to mine, and surprisingly keeps quiet as I navigate to the app store.
My body is acutely aware of him beside me. Of his attention directed over my shoulder as he watches. Of the warmth of his body nearly touching the side of mine.
At the prompt, he reaches over my shoulder and enters his password into the app store, and I stop breathing.
What is happening to me? I blink slowly. I must not be accustomed to the humidity in the air.
I swallow over the lump in my throat. “This is the companion app for my continuous glucose monitor.” I adjust a few settings and hand him back his phone. My neck nearly snaps with how far I have to tip it back to find his eyes.
His expression is unreadable.
“You’ll get notifications when I’m urgently low or high. Feel free to do with that information as you will.”
I power down my phone screen and shove it back into my pocket.
“You don’t have to do that.” Sutton stares at his cell as if he’s not sure what I did to it.
“It’s fine.” I wave him off and bring my fork to the sink. “It really doesn’t bother me. If it makes you more comfortable with me watching your daughter, then I’m happy to do it.”
Sutton’s shoulders sag slightly, and he pockets his phone. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I should get going. I was on my way to the grocery store before I decided to stop over.”
“How did you know where I’m staying?”
He fixes me with what is becoming his signature look. “Spencer is my brother.”
“The guy bringing over the sublease for me to sign?”
“That’s the one.”
“Figures,” I mutter.
“What’s that?”
“I’m glad we were able to clear a few things up.”
Sutton walks to the door. He clicks the handle and activates the springs, then turns his chin over his shoulder. “Monday. Be there by seven o’clock.”
I throw up a mock salute. “See you then, Sutton.”
He holds my gaze for a beat, then departs.
I slouch back into the wooden chair, fighting to ignore the tiny flutter in my chest and the stronger one between my thighs.
An unlisted number appears on my watch screen before I can investigate the feeling any further. I decline the call and get up, determined to unpack a few of these boxes before I need to walk to the community center.
I’ll show him.
I’m about to be the best damn nanny Sutton Stone has ever encountered.