Chapter 12
She’s everywhere.
She’s living in my house. Her sweet scent haunts me everywhere I go. Not even my bedroom is safe, because she started doing my laundry and washing my sheets.
I snapped at her to stop because I was going out of my goddamn mind knowing her hands had touched my clothes and pillowcases. She’s just doing her job, an incredible job at that, but I couldn’t let this beautiful creature wash my dirty underwear or scrub my fucking toilet.
Like a coward, I’ve been spending more time at the store than needed, to regain some semblance of sanity. It’s not working.
I need a break from helping Mrs. Wilkerson find a screw based on the rusted, ancient one she brought from home that fell out of god knows what. I flip the door sign to “Closed For Lunch” and head upstairs.
The second I walk through the apartment door, something distinctly Mia envelops my senses. Is it perfume, or her shampoo? I don’t know but it’s intoxicating.
As much as I pretend to look around the living room, my eyes are pulled to the scrap of paper on the counter.
I started leaving her notes as a way to communicate without startling her, and because my tongue ties in knots around her. I turn into a bumbling fool, and unfortunately, my gut reaction to embarrassment is to be an asshole.
She doesn’t deserve that, so, notes were my solution. She’s asked me more than once why I don’t just text her, and I never have a good answer for her.
Truth being, it’s too…instantaneous. If I texted her, I’d be waiting for her to read it and respond, and then I’d want to respond. It’s too intimate.
What I didn’t expect was for her to write me back. I feel like I’m passing notes with the pretty girl in homeroom.
My mind flips like a catalog through her previous notes.
Tonight, ask Harper to tell you the joke she learned at school. She’s so proud.
I’ll be at the ranch during the
school day. Text me if
you need me.
Harper missed you this morning. She wanted me to tell you she loves you.
Can you leave some cash?
Harper has the book fair
tomorrow after school.
Thank you for filling my car with gas. I could’ve done it, but I appreciate it.
Maybe she’s more comfortable communicating through notes too. Except she communicates just fine the rest of the time. I’m the inept idiot.
Despite how starving I am, I can pretend the refrigerator’s the source of all my problems. I know what I’m going to find when I open the door.
Air fryer 375° for 5-7 min
Every day I’m at work or out of the house, she makes lunch for me and leaves it in the fridge.
Sometimes it’s a simple sandwich. Most days it’s leftovers of her brilliant cooking.
Today, it’s two giant slices of her homemade supreme pizza, and from her past instructions, I know it’ll come out of the air fryer perfectly melted and crispy.
I pop the pizza in, precisely following her directions. She impresses me more as the weeks have passed. The last time she made supreme pizza, I ate it happily, but she must’ve noticed I picked off the mushrooms, because she’s never put them in any dish since.
Harper will eat the supreme, but she prefers pepperoni only. So, Mia makes her a perfectly-sized pepperoni pizza, and a slightly smaller cheese-only pizza for Everly.
The part that bothers me is that she won’t eat until everyone else has tucked into their meal, and she always eats what’s left on the table. She never makes her favorites or even a plate for herself.
I hired Mia out of desperation, in need of a nanny. I ended up employing a full-time nanny, housecleaner, chef, and personal assistant.
There’s no question I don’t pay her enough for everything she does around here, but she insists these are all things she’d be doing if she and Everly lived on their own. Why not be helpful? Is what she says.
My lunch is ready, and I eat it right off the cooking tray over the sink.
I’m not a messy person by nature, but I’ve never kept my home tidier than with Mia here.
I want to make her life easier. I do my damndest to keep Harper’s room picked up, not make a mess in the kitchen or bathrooms, and toss in a load of laundry when I notice the basket is getting full. I don’t mind.
Though if I’d admit it to myself, I’ve been taking care of myself and other people since Dad died—and it feels good to be the one taken care of. Her attention and kindness are addicting; to know I’m important enough for her to think of my likes and anticipate my needs.
Something down the hall catches my eye. Mia’s door isn’t typically open…
I don’t care what’s in her room. Why would I care about that?
I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure she has everything she needs. It’s just a few steps in and out, nothing to feel guilty about.
Her backpack’s nowhere in sight. Did she finally unpack?
I dare to open a few dresser drawers and am pleasantly surprised to see them full of her and Everly’s belongings.
Cool relief washes over me. My anxiety over her leaving has faded over the weeks, but the fear still lingered, until now. Maybe she’s here to stay.
God I hope so. She’s simplified my life so much, I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Something tugs in my chest thinking about Mia disappearing from our lives, and it has nothing to do with her domestic expertise.
My phone rings, and I dart out of her room. Even if it’s her calling, she won’t know I was in her room. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Thank fucking god. For once, James calling is a welcome distraction.
“What?”
“Hello to you too, dick.”
My best friend’s smug voice carries too loudly through the speaker. I don’t say anything. If he wants to talk to me, he’ll get to it.
“Such a ray of sunshine, Clark. Just thought you might want to know your girl’s a natural.”
“Harper? At what? She’s supposed to be at school.”
“She is at school, moron. I’m talking about Mia.”
“What are you on about? She’s not my girl.”
But not for the first time in passing weeks have I wondered what it’d be like to have a nuclear family. To give Harper what I so desperately missed after Dad died.
Not that the picture my mind paints includes Mia. Because it doesn’t. Some of the time.
“Suuuuure. Reid had her tack up her own mount today. Pretty thing did it without complaint, and nearly perfectly. She looked damn good on that horse.”
The growl that rumbles in my chest is alarming. My lizard brain doesn’t like James looking at her that way. I have no business looking at her that way either, but my amygdala begs to differ. Loudly.
Yet another reason I make myself scarce when the kids aren’t home as a buffer.
“Why are you telling me this?” I try to ask as disinterested as possible.
“Just thought you might want to know Connor’s stable manager couldn’t keep his eyes off her.”
Guess I’m not the only one…difference is, I feel like a dirty old man lookin’.
When I got her legal documents, I saw her date of birth, and simple mental math told me I’m eleven years older than her.
The stable manager at Lucky Spurs Ranch came on after Connor moved into his role as farrier full-time. He’s a decent enough looking guy. Much closer to her age, not that I’ve given it any obsessive thought.
I don’t want her fending off unwanted male attention when the ranch is supposed to be a safe space for her. Might have to tag along with her the next time she wants to go riding.
“That all?” My patience is growing thinner the longer I think about another man with my nanny.
“Yep. You coming to Sunday dinner?” he asks.
“Plannin’ on it.”
“You bringing your girls?” My girls…that sounds way too good.
I don’t bother correcting him, he’d get too much satisfaction landing his jibe.
“Yep.”
“Maybe I’ll suggest to Connor that the other employees come to dinner too. You know, team bonding.”
He’s such a shit-starter. Always has been, the punk.
“See what happens,” I grit between clenched teeth.
His laughter doesn’t fade even after I hang up.