Chapter 12
TWELVE
Kaylie pushed awaythe last threads of sleep that clung to her. Fuzzy visions of Anthony lifting a straw to her mouth tugged at her emotions, but she pushed them away. Surely, it was a dream because there was no way that was real.
Except, she wasn’t in her own bed. A cocoon of blankets pooled around her waist as she sat up, one hand on the back of the couch. Her hand flew to her head, which twinged with a dull ache.
Why was she at Anthony’s house?
“Lia?” her voice croaked, barely a whisper and burning like daggers in the back of her throat. Ow.
Then it came to her. She’d been so tired, hurting all over, and desperate for sleep. She’d turned on the television for Lia and laid down, hoping a twenty-minute nap would help. But that had been… She glanced at the clock above the mantle and her breath caught. Seventeen hours ago?
“LIA!” she tried to yell, pushing past the pain in her throat, but there was almost nothing to the word when it emerged.
She stood, fighting a moment of nausea and bracing herself on the arm of the sofa. She had to find her daughter. Nothing else mattered. Then the sound of giggles drifted through the wide opening to the living room she was in. Not the one she’d laid down in, but maybe she didn’t remember moving?
She followed the sound, barely feeling her feet on the soft rug. She grabbed the wall for extra support. Still so tired.
The giggles grew louder, and she turned the corner to the kitchen, her heart skipping in relief to find Cecelia there, standing on a chair next to Anthony. Kaylie sagged against the corner, her heart returning to a normal speed.
Safe. They were safe.
Cecelia was safe.
A smile tugged at her lips, despite the exhaustion. It must be the flu. Aches and pains and fever, and the splitting sinus headache all pointed to the same conclusion. And she’d have to make do with the expired Tylenol in the bathroom at home, because she knew from the last time she’d bought medicine for Lia that the good stuff was way out of her budget.
Muscles pushed against the sleeves of the white T-shirt as Anthony moved, and gray sweatpants rode low on his hips. He was helping her daughter pour something into a pan on the stove. Pancakes? That would certainly explain the white dusting of powder that seemed to cover both of them and every surface. It would take her an extra hour to clean it all up, but she couldn’t seem to mind.
“The secret to fluffy pancakes is not to touch them until all the bubbles pop on top.” Anthony’s voice was soft, but still matter-of-fact and mostly emotionless.
“I’m going to eat five of them,” Lia declared proudly.
The corner of Tank’s lip twitched, drawing Kaylie’s eyes there. He didn’t smile, but her heart nearly cried at the sweetness of the exchange between them. Anthony handed the spatula to Lia and helped her gingerly tuck it under the pancake. They flipped it together, and then he held his empty hand up to Lia for a high-five.
His eyes lifted to Kaylie’s position, a slight furrow of his brow the only hint of emotion on his face. Then his eyes moved from her own, sliding down and to the left just slightly. Kaylie glanced down to see what he was looking at. Her loose long-sleeved top had slid off one shoulder, leaving the skin exposed and revealing the skinny strap of her tank top. A flush of heat filled her face, and she tugged the top back over her shoulder.
“We should go,” she blurted out. He deserved more than that. An apology for the intrusion. A thousand thank yous for taking care of Lia when she was incapable. But that would mean facing the shame and embarrassment that was bubbling under the surface. Or worse, the growing attraction and desire she had for her employer. It was completely inappropriate.
And it could never go anywhere. So they needed to leave, and any more words than those would have to wait.
“Mommy! We made pancakes!” Lia’s bubbly enthusiasm was a stark contrast to the unreadable expression on Anthony’s face. Was he angry at her? Or was this more of his misleading mad face.
“I see that,” she said to her daughter. “You’re so big, helping with the stove and everything.”
Cecelia puffed up proudly. Then her voice fell. “Are you feeling better, Mommy? Mr. Anthony said you were sick.”
“I’m okay now, sweetie. Go grab your things so we can get out of Mr. Anthony’s hair.”
“No.” The gruff command came from Anthony.
She raised her eyebrows at him. She didn’t care what he’d done for her or her daughter, he couldn’t boss them around.
“You’re still sick, Kaylie. Stay.”
She wanted to say yes. She wanted to pour a cup of tea, cuddle up on the couch in the family room, and watch them make pancakes and listen to Lia’s giggles. She wanted to let this kind, solid man take care of her.
But the last time she’d done that, she’d ended up running for her life and the life of her unborn baby.
So instead, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. We need to go.”
“At least let her eat first,” he said, flashing her a stern look.
“Lia?” Kaylie waited until her daughter was paying full attention to her. “Go get your things and wait for me by the front door.”
“But, Mommy, I—”
“This is not up for debate,” Kaylie said, pushing past the resistance and giving her daughter a you-better-obey-right-now look.
Anthony lifted the pancake off the skillet, added it gingerly to a nearby stack, and poured more batter into the pan. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t letting it show.
“Thank you for taking care of her,” Kaylie forced out. “This… shouldn’t have happened.”
His deep-brown eyes found hers. “You’re stubborn.”
Kaylie nodded, a wry smile on her lips. “I’ve heard that before.”
He took a step toward her, spatula still in hand. “Let me help.”
There was a softness to his voice. Just barely, but it was there–a vulnerability she didn’t expect.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a breath. “We can’t.”
His eyes flickered, something under the surface she couldn’t read. Then he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Fine. I’ll drive you.”
“No. You won’t.”
“Kaylie…” he growled.
“We’re fine,” she insisted.
He walked to the stove and shut off the burner with a flick of his wrist. He was angry this time, she could tell that much. Most people probably thought he was angry all the time, but she knew better. Even now, though, maybe it wasn’t anger. Frustration? Disappointment?
Kaylie turned away from him, determined to hold herself together long enough to make it home and collapse back into her own bed. Lia would be disappointed, but Kaylie knew it had to be like this. They couldn’t rely on anyone but each other.
After Kaylie had found her shoes and helped a sulky Lia gather her things, Anthony met them at the door. He was holding Cecelia’s elephant stuffy in one hand, the pink furry animal looking comically small in his giant grasp. In the other, he had a plastic container full of pancakes. They were still warm, judging by the fog on the inside of the clear plastic. A small white paper bag rested on top of the takeout container.
“For the road,” he said stiffly.
“Thank you,” Kaylie said, her voice barely a whisper. This man… There was something under the surface, so much she wanted to uncover. He’d never been anything but kind and gentle with them. But getting tangled up would only lead to problems for both of them. She could never forget why she’d run in the first place. And she couldn’t risk getting someone else wrapped up in the mess she’d made with her bad decisions earlier in life.
Those decisions had brought her Cecelia, though. So she couldn’t regret them, not entirely.
“I’ll come by tomorrow to clean. I owe you that much.”
Tank shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. Call me if you need something.” His eyes were unyielding as he watched her, waiting for a response.
She wouldn’t call him, she knew that. Surely, he knew it too. But under the intensity of his stare, she nodded. “Okay.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he handed her the things. Then he used one finger to pull back the sheer curtain that covered the small window beside the door and looked out. “Your ride’s here.”
Kaylie inhaled sharply. “Mr. Olson,” she admonished.
“His name is Dave, and I trust him with my life. If you won’t let me take you… then let him.”
“She needs a car seat,” Kaylie protested.
“He’s got one.”
The protests died on her lips. It was no use arguing. And the truth was she didn’t know if she’d make the walk to the bus and then to the trailer in her current state. Everything hurt.
She looked up at Anthony’s face again. “Okay,” she agreed again. This was becoming an impossible pattern–giving in to her desire to let him care for them. It had to stop.
But after she and Lia were settled in the backseat of my-friends-call-me-Hollywood Dave’s SUV, Kaylie finally peeked inside the white paper bag Anthony had handed her. The dual pack of day and night severe cold and flu medicine sitting inside were the last straw. Warm tears spilled over her eyelashes as another brick of her defenses fell under the gentle assault of loving attention from Anthony Olson.