Chapter 6
Sutton
“Good morning, Officer Sunny!” Ms. Thompson chirps brightly, appearing in my doorway.
I blink and wet my lips, tasting the salty remnants of dust.
Her black hair is piled atop her head in a messy bun. A navy-blue sweatshirt encases her body, appearing to be three sizes too large, and for the briefest moment, I’m swarmed with the need to know who that sweatshirt belongs to.
I blink again.
She’s wearing black stretchy leggings, white socks pulled halfway up her shins, and a pair of the cleanest white sneakers I’ve ever seen.
She looks entirely unprofessional.
That makes two of us.
I watch her take in the scene with one sweeping glance. All of it. The still-smoking pan and me. She pauses momentarily on the towel slung low around my hips. Her undivided attention sends heat crawling up my neck.
“Don’t laugh,” I mutter, pinning her with a furious look. I scratch my left pec.
I chase criminals for a living. Throw myself headfirst into danger. Yet the simple presence of this woman in my kitchen on a Monday morning is enough to knock my feet out from under me.
“I am so sorry,” she says quickly, her face turning pink as her lips turn up into a grin. “It’s just… are you… shimmering?”
I stare at her and slap overhead at the smoke alarm again, finally silencing the damn thing.
I cough gently to clear my throat. “This is not a typical morning for any of us.”
“I’m not here to judge.” She holds her palms out toward me. Her face is open and surprisingly unbothered.
“I have it handled.”
Her head cocks to the side. “Did you get into a fight with the craft store?”
“I spilled my glitter on the floor,” Nellie adds helpfully. “He tried to vacuum it up.”
She trails her gaze over my sparkling chest. “Interesting,” Ms. Thompson says carefully and smiles down at my daughter, dragging my attention there too.
“Nellie, you’re not supposed to open the door to strangers.”
“But Daddy, we needed a grown-up.”
“I’m a grown-up,” I remind her.
The grimace on her face tells me she thinks I’m full of shit. “It’s okay to ask for help.”
“I taught you that.” I narrow my eyes.
“You should remember your own advice,” Nellie says seriously.
I glance at my watch. Five to seven. “You’re five minutes early.”
“You know the saying. If you’re on time, you’re late.
If you’re early, you’re on time. Or something like that.
” Ms. Thompson steps farther into the room and deposits a travel mug, purse, insulated lunch bag, and her tiny cactus onto my kitchen table.
“I know you need to get to work, so I thought I’d give you a few minutes extra for instructions. Seems my instincts were right.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I just need a moment to clean up. Then we can go over instructions.”
“Take your time.”
A quick rinse in the shower to remove the glitter, followed by slipping into my uniform, and I’m back to the kitchen in eight minutes flat.
The bacon has been discarded. Nellie sits happily at the kitchen table, dunking her triangle toast into her runny eggs. A pan of fresh scrambled eggs sits on the stove with a small stack of buttered toast beside it.
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast. I wasn’t sure how you take your eggs, but scrambled are better for your heart. Less grease needed for cooking.”
“I assure you I’m in perfect health.” I drop a slice of toast on a plate and pile a scoop of the eggs on top.
“I’m sure you are, Officer Sunny. I’m used to cooking breakfast for my eighty-year-old neighbor, so I’m conditioned to make heart-healthy decisions.”
“Aren’t all eggs full of cholesterol?” I mumble around a bite.
She waves her hand at me and wipes both of them with a fresh kitchen towel. “As Archie says, all good engines need oil to run.”
My brows furrow. “Those statements contradict one another.”
Her smile is wistful. “That’s Archie for ya.”
I cross the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee, only half an hour later than I’d normally have my first cup.
“Want a cup?” I hold up the carafe.
She points at her travel mug. “I’m all set for now.”
I return the pot beneath the drip. The mouthful of bitter liquid settles me some, and I relax my hips against the counter at my back.
“Seems like you’ve already figured out where some things are.
I don’t expect much cleaning, but helping with the cooking and dishes would be appreciated.
Nellie goes to school by 9:15. You can walk her there until you get your car situation sorted.
Take Merit with you.” I level her with a look that I hope conveys she needs to get it sorted stat.
She nods in understanding, so I continue.
“You can go home after you drop her off. She has dance after school twice a week. Mondays and Wednesdays. I work twelve-hour shifts minimum, overtime excluded, so you can expect to be here two hours in the morning and for the evenings. I have my schedule a month in advance, so I’ll make a copy for you. Any questions?”
“It sounds pretty straightforward.” Her lips curve into a sweet smile. How can someone cause so much trouble yet look so innocent at the same time?
Jesus, I’m staring.
I shake my head.
“Full disclosure, I have a couple of indoor cameras.”
“I would expect you to.”
“You would?”
She’s nodding. “Of course. You’re a police officer. Just to say, if you decide to watch the video of this eventful morning, I’d love to see it.”
She’s teasing me. This woman walked in on me in a towel making a jackass of myself, and she’s fucking teasing me.
“Your only priority here is my daughter’s safety, Ms. Thompson. I hope we’re clear on that.”
“We are. I even completed my CPR and first-aid certification.” She pulls a folded piece of paper from her bag. “I’m all set.”
I scan the paper. Looks like she printed off her digital certificate. Satisfied, I hand it back. “Anything else?”
“Yes. What rules do you have about TV time and coaster usage?”
“Do I look like a guy who uses coasters?”
Her eyes find mine. “I think you’re full of surprises, Sutton.”
I ignore the coaster question. “She’s allowed an hour of TV after dinner unless it’s movie night.”
“Movie nights are Friday,” Nellie adds around a mouthful of toast. She polishes off her final bite. “Unless Daddy has to work, then it’s Saturday.”
Draining my coffee mug, I check my watch. It’s time for me to leave, but I can’t seem to force myself to move.
Ms. Thompson notices my hesitance.
“It’s okay, Sutton. You can go.”
I sweep my gaze from my daughter to Ms. Thompson and back again. “I’ll be checking in.”
“Okay.”
“Often.”
“Please do.”
“Nellie, come say goodbye.”
My daughter hops down from her chair and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. “Bye, Daddy. Love you.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Love you too, Buttercup. Go brush your teeth and be good for Ms. Thompson. I’ll see you tonight.”
She skips off down the stairs, not realizing how hard I’m struggling to let her go.
I’ve been leaving her with family since shortly after her birth. I had to. Her mother, Jolene, and I were never together, and after she died, I needed to support my daughter on my own. Which meant when I had to work, she needed someone to watch her.
But leaving her with family and friends was a hell of a lot easier than leaving her with this stranger.
I straighten and reach into my pocket. “Here’s the spare key. There’s a list of important phone numbers on the counter, along with the alarm code. Add them to your phone immediately. Text me once you drop her off and lock up the house once you bring Merit back from her walk.”
She reaches for the gleaming silver in my palm, and for a moment, our fingers clash. I rapidly withdraw and cross my arms over my chest.
“I will.”
I straighten to my full height. For the first time, I notice how much I tower over her. At six-foot-one, I must be nearly a foot taller.
“You haven’t asked me,” I mutter, looking over her head and running my fingers over my hair, stalling for time.
“Asked you what?”
I hollow my cheeks as I look down. “How much I’m paying you.”
Her audible exhale marks her surprise. “Oh. I, um, I knew we’d eventually get around to discussing it—”
“Twenty-five.”
“I’m sorry?”
“An hour. Five dollars an hour differential after ten p.m.”
“Sutton, that’s way more than I need.”
“Overnight, I’ll tack on an additional one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar flat fee.”
“That’s not necessary. She’d be sleeping. We both would be,” she stammers.
My ego inflates just a little at finally gaining the upper hand.
“I’ll pay you on Friday for your first week, then bi-monthly after that.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. The baggy sleeves have been pushed up to her elbows somewhere between me leaving to shower and now. “Don’t you need to get to work?”
I do. I fucking do.
“You call me if she gets so much as a hangnail.”
“We’re going to be fine. You know that, or else you wouldn’t be halfway out that door.”
I blow out a forceful breath. “Take care of my little girl.”
“You can count on it.”
I don’t know how I do it. But somehow, I walk out that fucking door, leaving my heart in the hands of someone I’m not entirely convinced is capable of protecting it.