8 - Gideon
Loyalty First
~
Gideon
Brie called me paranoid and suspicious. She wasn’t wrong. When she got here, I treated her the same way I did anyone who came near Lexi and Tobias. Like a danger waiting to manifest.
If I were completely honest, that all changed after I saw her handle Lexi’s first tantrum.
They were monumental, to say the least. She was a sweet kid, but she was also used to getting everything she wanted when she wanted it.
Brie had said no, and I expected the roof to cave in.
The woman who could turn that into a symphony of giggles?
That was a woman I looked at with interest and curiosity. Not suspicion.
Lexi got her way again. I helped again. It wasn’t purely altruistic; I loved seeing the little girl happy. But this was for both of us.
Brie chased Lexi down the stairs after they had scrubbed their hands clean; she had a nail brush and everything. I didn’t admit we never scrubbed that thoroughly, not even after a hard day laboring outside.
Brie put her hair up; she looked beautiful that way. Her neck was elegant and long… Another thing I’d never admit to. I liked looking at her.
“Okay, boss! What are the rules?” Brie asked, rolling up her sleeves.
Lexi’s uncombed hair was also up in a bird’s nest of a bun. She rolled her sleeves up to match Brie and put her hands on her hips. All business.
“Ah, the rules,” I smiled. “One protein, two veg, and one carb.”
I thought I was being generous. It was a treat and at least one vegetable more than we usually cooked anyway, but from the crease on the bridge of Brie’s nose, she didn’t think so.
“And cake?” Lexi asked.
“No cake,” I said, raising my hands. “If we have cake tonight, then we can’t have Sunday morning pancakes.”
Brie nodded her head and started pulling cans from the pantry. “We’re up for any challenge. Right, Lexi?”
“Right!”
It had only taken a few days, not even a full week, for Lexi to become Brie’s little lieutenant.
As long as she thought she was helping Brie, she would even sit at the dining table doing math, learning all kinds of things I must have also learned at that age, but mostly forgot, like labeling the parts of a grasshopper.
Watching her learn how to make canned stew was new.
“You know the meat in the can is already cooked, right?” I asked, taking down the stewing pot for Brie anyway. “You just need to warm it up before we eat.”
Brie cocked her head. “And who told you that lie?”
“Lie? It says so right on the can.” I wanted to show her the label on the can in her hand. In all innocence. But that was when our fingers touched. A light graze, if anything. She was soft and warm. Just like I’d imagined.
Not that I spent too much time imagining much about the new nanny.
I flinched, pulling my hand back as I stepped away from her as if she had electrocuted me. Curiosity I could maintain; anything more, any kind of connection was out of bounds.
“I used to go camping with my dad, and on rainy nights when we couldn’t get a fire going or use the butane, we’d eat it straight out of the can,” I said. “And see? Not only did I survive. I grew big and strong.” I flexed my arm for effect.
“I’ll take full advantage and put those muscles to work,” Brie said, sliding a mortar and pestle across the kitchen table.
She had chosen dry herbs, dried garlic, and other aromatics I didn’t even know we had, then handed them to me to grind. Once I got going, she and Lexi set up the pots and whisking station.
“You know, I’ve never been camping,” Brie said thoughtfully. “This is the closest I’ve been to it.”
She didn’t have to tell me. That much was clear. She wore sneakers and pumps instead of boots. The way her face contorted into the cutest grimace at the mention of hunting and game meat. Her clumsiness when it came to using tools of any kind.
“My dad was big on camping. We’d go whenever he had time off work. It was rare because he worked so much,” I explained.
Brie looked at me sympathetically, the same kind of look she gave Lexi when the kid tried a sum over and over but kept getting it wrong.
There was something about her. The more I looked at her, the more I saw it.
A gentle femininity that was also fiercely protective.
That protective quality didn’t just extend to Lexi.
It included Tobias, and now I felt like it included me too.
It was strange. No one ever looked at me and thought I needed protection or gentleness.
But she had seen it, the part of me that was just like anyone else.
I instinctively retreated. Naturally.
“I’m going to pack up the garage. Gunner and Tobias are probably going to be back late. I’d rather skip the hassle,” I lied.
I had packed up the garage before we came in to start dinner, and Brie had watched me do it. But being alone in the house with just her and Lexi was starting to give me a taste of something I knew I could never have.
Brie watched people the same way I did. And although she was less obvious about it, I could feel her reading me like a book printed in large, bold letters.
“You don’t have much of a life outside of Lexi and Tobias, do you?” she asked with her back turned.
The pots were steaming up, and the kitchen smelled less like rations and more like a home-cooked meal.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said, giving Lexi a squeeze on my way out.
I could have had it many other ways, but my father had drilled loyalty into me as soon as I noticed he wasn’t home as much as other dads.
He didn’t turn up to school events, didn’t spend weekends doing yard work, because it was more important to stay loyal to the people he served.
People whose lives and work would change the world.
It was his job to make sure no one got in the way of that work, just as it was his father’s before him. Now it was mine.
I stood outside and let the cool air wash over me.
Winter was coming in fast, and I could tell it was going to be a rough one.
An educated hunch, more than science. I was standing outside thinking about the winter and the survival training my father had cleverly disguised as camping trips when I was younger when Lexi came out.
“Brie wants to know if we’re waiting for Dad and Gunner to have dinner with us.” She had a mischievous glint in her eye. “Because I’m really hungry and if we put it to a vote, we win and they can eat later,” she snickered.
I returned her smile and steered her back inside. “Your father will be home late, way after your bedtime. We’ll keep some aside for him and Gunner.”
We set out the plates and used cutlery other than spoons, and sat down to a dinner of beef ragu, mashed potatoes, candied carrots, and green beans.
Simple, but luxurious compared to the stuff we usually ate at this very same table.
Brie had casually performed magic, and it was just one more reason to be in awe of her.
We ate with Lexi’s rolling commentary about the day, about her books, the deer she saw, and everything she read in the newspaper. Lexi held court, and between looks of amusement and stifled laughter, Brie and I were her captive audience, saying just enough for her to know we were listening.
“About my bedtime,” Lexi started. She scraped the gravy and streaks of mashed potato off her plate with her finger. “I’m not like other six-year-olds. I’m sure you see that now, Brie.” Her face was set in a serious expression, but she couldn’t blink the sleep out of her eyes.
“Of course you’re not,” Brie said gently, matching Lexi’s serious tone but with a slight smile on her face. “You’re much smarter than any other six-year-olds I’ve met, and maybe that’s why you need more sleep.”
She checked her phone and, as expected, it was time for Lexi’s bath and bedtime routine.
Lexi put up a bit of a fight. She tried to argue, but in the end she had to accept that as a nurse, Brie knew that with all the ‘extra brain power’ Lexi had to process, she needed to get to bed on time and rest up before starting a new day.
“I’ll get the kitchen. You’ve outdone yourself again, Brie. This was delicious,” I announced, standing up to collect the dirty plates.
I watched Brie walk up the stairs, the swing in her hips, the way her watch jingled against the single solid bracelet she wore on her left wrist. I recognized her perfume—light jasmine, vanilla, and something hinting at citrus.
I had gotten too close. I had to step back. This would be the last time we spent so much time together.
“Guess who wants to do her bedtime routine all by herself from now on,” Brie said, trotting down the stairs.
“Well, she’s kind of been putting herself to sleep on the couch for years. Bedtime story and all,” I shrugged.
I could feel her walking up behind me to grab a dish towel. She stood next to me and dried the dishes I had just washed. It was a warm, domestic scene I hadn’t imagined myself in. But imagination would only lead to trouble. It had to end.
“Your probation is almost up,” I said, nodding for my own benefit. It meant I wouldn’t be spending so much time with her. It would make things easier. For me, anyway.
“And what does that mean?” Brie asked, turning to look at me.
I didn’t look at her; I just answered while scrubbing the stewing pot. “It means you’ve passed and I’ll be out of your hair, getting back to doing my actual job.”
Her shoulders slumped just a little, but enough for me to notice.
“Just as we were getting to know each other.” Brie hit my arm playfully. “Well, we can still be dinner buddies.”
“Yeah,” I said weakly. “Dinner buddies.”
She moved closer to me, which I thought was accidental. It must have been because suddenly she was standing much too close. So close that her hip brushed up against me as she dried the pot.
I moved over, further from her. I thought I was being stealthy about it; that was my forte, but the more time I spent with Brie, the less capable I felt.
It made her dangerous. Guarding and protecting was all I knew, all I had to offer, but she made me weak.
And for the first time in a long time, she made me consider putting myself first. Just for a second, not even long enough to think of how exactly I would do that.
“You keep scooting away from me,” Brie giggled. “Soon you’ll be washing the dishes from the other side of the woods.”
She was on to me. Stealth may have been one of my best professional qualities, but dishonesty never had been, not with someone I was practically living with. Coming clean was my only option. If she understood, if we were both on the same page, it would be easier.
“Things have been really… different since you came around,” I started awkwardly. I leaned against the counter, leaving room between us. Enough so that I wasn’t touching her, and she wasn’t touching me. She was still close enough to make my pulse race.
“Not just with me, but with all of us.” I was talking in circles, struggling to get to the point, because how did I tell a woman that I couldn’t compete with my boss for her affections without sounding like a schmuck?
“Tobias, he’s the boss. Yours and mine, and he… he doesn’t just act that way with everyone.”
“What way?”
“The way he is with you.” I was flustered. I cracked my knuckles and only stopped when I felt Brie’s warm hand over mine. This conversation was becoming more urgent.
“I don’t think I understand what you’re trying to say,” she said.
“Look, Brie, I know something happened between the two of you the other night. I don’t like things messy and I—” I couldn’t find a way around this one. “My job is to make Tobias’s life simpler, and that means keeping my distance from you.”
Brie looked up at me, but I couldn’t read her face.
“Do you always step aside from the things you want because of Tobias?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
It was never a hard thing to do until she showed up.
“Even people?”
“Yes,” I repeated.
She stepped closer, still staring up at me. If she blinked, I didn’t notice. She reached up and held the back of my head, her fingers in my hair, then kissed me.